Barf and Pens: A Photojournalistic Attempt at Assigning Human Attributes to Nonhuman Markets by Allegorizing Trading-Floor Employees

The first thing to go for Bob was the lips.










Agents experienced a nauseating warping of the space-time continuum when the Dow dipped below 8,000 and took their names away.










"I never should've ordered that trailer for my Eskimo mistress."









Nausea gave way to headaches as agents continued to suffer at the hands of unoriginal photographers with expensive cameras.











"Why are my hands so small! Think what I could have done with bigger hands!"















"You know why this happened, don't you, Peter? Because you wore blue on a Tuesday! You know you always wear the yellow on a Tuesday, and I wear the blue! This is why the Mets never make it to the Big Dance!"














Having lost the retirement savings of everyone he knows, Agent 1224 double-checks on his brain.














"Ramen! I'm never going to be able to eat anything but ramen!"
















944's deepest regret was that he hadn't splurged on way nicer pens.














Because of the Dow, no one noticed when someone pushed his left index finger right into the skull of Jimmy Fallon.