Welcome to the Bank of Brad

I've decided to start a bank.

I made this decision after noticing that the feds appear to be shoveling piles of money at any bank that strolls by in a short skirt with bad assets. Even businesses that you would not traditionally consider to be banks such as American Express and GMAC are applying to become banks or bank-holding companies. All so they can qualify for their shovel full of cash.

At this rate, it's only a matter of time until we see the First National Bank of Waffle House.

"Would you like free checking with your French toast?"

This is why I've decided to start my own bank. The Bank of Brad or BOB for short. It practically writes it's own marketing campaign.

"Don't invest with the rest. Go with who you know. Trust your money with BOB."

Catchy, isn't it? I even have a logo.

I may need to find a model for "BOB" who's a little more trustworthy looking.

Of course, the point of all this hard work - you know that slogan and logo took like 15 minutes to create -- is not to actually get any depositors.

Heck, if I had depositors that would mean I would have to have tellers and ATMs and maybe even a building that looked bank-like. And I'd probably need a website and certainly a more extensive marketing plan than my current logo and slogan.

Frankly, that is way more time and energy than I want to invest. To be honest, I don't want to have any customers. Customers require customer service, and that is not my forte.

Now, it does seem that the possession of "toxic assets" may be a requirement for some of this fed cash. The simple definition of a "toxic asset" is risky high yield investment that has gone south.

Basically, the banks made large bets, and the dealer hit blackjack. They gambled. They lost. Now they want help from the feds.

Kind of sounds like loaner remorse to me.

While I've never had loaner remorse, I certainly have had buyers remorse.

Haven't we all? We've all bought something that in hindsight was not such a good idea.

Before I was married, I bought a little row house in south St. Louis and put about $7000 into it. Then I moved to Cape. It took 2 years to sell and sold for what I originally paid for it before the improvements. Can you say location, location, location? Bye-bye seven grand.

It was definitely a toxic asset to me and by marriage, my wife.

But that was then and this is now. Perhaps the fact I use to have a "toxic asset" will be enough to qualify me, uh I mean BOB -- the financial institution that I control -- for a nice big handout from the feds.

After all, I have a logo and a slogan. I'll even bring my own shovel.