CNBC's panel of indistinguishable market-boosters hate Nouriel Roubini and Nassim Taleb. Hate them. It could hardly be more obvious: It's present in their questions, in their tone, on their faces. They call the two men "Dr. Doom and the Black Swan," as if giving them comical nicknames would make their pronouncements less serious and their predictions less accurate. They joke about them being bears, as if this were a year ago and some still thought Roubini's analysis the product of a characterological pessimism rather than an accurate assessment of the situation. They wonder -- aloud! -- if the fact that Bill Gates and Michael Dell attended a lecture given by Taleb and Roubini doesn't suggest that they have peaked and their analysis has lost its force. They call this a "data point," misunderstanding entirely the meaning of the word "data." They hate them for good reason: They fear them. CNBC exists parasitically atop stock market expansion. They feed off excitement about the market. They need to offer actionable information. Towards the end of the interview, they ask Roubini and Taleb for stock tips. Both men demure. "We're going to change the system," says Taleb, "I'm not here to give immediate investment advice." The CNBC anchors explode: They all begin talking at once, begging, demanding. It's as if Roubini and Taleb have broken a rule. And in a way, they have: They've just implied that the raison d'etre of CNBC is farcical. It's a network dedicated to making its viewers money at a moment when few are making any, and when those who lost the most were, well, loyal CNBC viewers. Indeed, CNBC, and most everyone of that stock-peddling ilk, increasingly looks like nothing so much as a get rich quick scheme. The fact that it was a network rather than an infomercial simply made it seem more legitimate.
