So Jamie Dimon has pushed Ina Drew, his chief investment officer, to walk the plank.

Dimon called her bad bet that cost the bank more than $2 billion “stupid.”

But he himself, just a month ago, called the problem “a tempest in a teapot.”

So why doesn’t he hold himself accountable, and push himself down the plank?

And why doesn’t his board demand his resignation?

JPMorgan Chase, the giant of the giants, the biggest of the too-big-to-fail banks, was messing around placing bets on corporate debts, using the kind of fancy derivatives and credit-default swaps that sent the whole banking system over the edge back in 2008.

The irony is that Jamie Dimon, CEO of JPMorgan Chase, managed to steer his bank over that waterfall without incurring huge losses, though it did grab money from the Fed to stay comfortably afloat.

With supreme arrogance, Dimon then lobbied Washington about there be no reason for Congress or the regulators to ban some derivatives trading and hedging.

"This is a very unfortunate and inopportune time to have had this kind of mistake,” Dimon said.

No kidding. You look like a fool, and your bank’s blunder proved the validity of the Volcker rule, which amazingly has still not gone fully into effect, in large part because of Dimon’s lobbying, which diluted the law in the first place and now has delayed its implementation.

Congress and the Executive Branch need to tighten up the Volcker rule so this reckless gambling finally stops.

If you liked this story by Matthew Rothschild, the editor of The Progressive magazine, check out his story “Ending the Age of Austerity in Europe."

Follow Matthew Rothschild @mattrothschild on Twitter

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It's finally setting in: Trump is Trump and he’s not going to change because of winning the nomination.

The new head of the Environmental Protection has a history of suing the agency for trying to do its job.

By Wendell Berry

Manifesto: The Mad Farmer Liberation Front

Love the quick profit, the annual raise,
vacation with pay. Want more 
of everything ready made. Be afraid 
to know your neighbors and to die.
And you will have a window in your head.
Not even your future will be a mystery 
any more. Your mind will be punched in a card 
and shut away in a little drawer.
When they want you to buy something 
they will call you. When they want you
to die for profit they will let you know. 
So, friends, every day do something
that won’t compute. Love the Lord. 
Love the world. Work for nothing. 
Take all that you have and be poor.
Love someone who does not deserve it. 
Denounce the government and embrace 
the flag. Hope to live in that free 
republic for which it stands. 
Give your approval to all you cannot
understand. Praise ignorance, for what man 
has not encountered he has not destroyed.
Ask the questions that have no answers. 
Invest in the millennium. Plant sequoias.
Say that your main crop is the forest
that you did not plant,
that you will not live to harvest.

Say that the leaves are harvested 
when they have rotted into the mold.
Call that profit. Prophesy such returns.
Put your faith in the two inches of humus 
that will build under the trees
every thousand years.
Listen to carrion—put your ear
close, and hear the faint chattering
of the songs that are to come. 
Expect the end of the world. Laugh. 
Laughter is immeasurable. Be joyful
though you have considered all the facts. 
So long as women do not go cheap 
for power, please women more than men.
Ask yourself: Will this satisfy 
a woman satisfied to bear a child?
Will this disturb the sleep 
of a woman near to giving birth? 
Go with your love to the fields.
Lie easy in the shade. Rest your head 
in her lap. Swear allegiance 
to what is nighest your thoughts.
As soon as the generals and the politicos 
can predict the motions of your mind, 
lose it. Leave it as a sign 
to mark the false trail, the way 
you didn’t go. Be like the fox 
who makes more tracks than necessary, 
some in the wrong direction.
Practice resurrection.

Wendell Berry is a poet, farmer, and environmentalist in Kentucky. This poem, first published in 1973, is reprinted by permission of the author and appears in his “New Collected Poems” (Counterpoint).

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