Little Lord Paulson: Sarah's no "more qualified than a toaster"

Remember Merritt Paulson? He's the majority owner of the Portland Timbers soccer team and the son of Henry Paulson, a former Secretary of the Treasury from Goldman Sachs and one of the worst corporate looters in American history.

That Merritt Paulson.

Well, His Highness doesn't like me, and so I'm not allowed to see his Twitter account, but it's got enough people buzzing today that an alert reader sent me this gem, which Paulson apparently posted yesterday afternoon:

The "toaster" crack is obviously directed at mayoral challenger Sarah Iannarone, who is often criticized a being too inexperienced for the mayor's job.

Now, the demographic of Timbers fans and the demographic of Iannarone voters are probably very similar. Indeed, the Timbers Army van has showed up at several big protests, even winning the honor of having its tires slashed by Portland's brutal police a couple of times. The Sarah people and the nightly protest people are tight. And so you wonder whether Little Lord Paulson isn't alienating his customers here.

You also wonder whether the protesters might pay LLP a visit some evening, the way they do F. Ted Wheeler. When last this blog inquired into the matter, he had a lovely mansion in Dunthorpe, but it looks like that was sold a couple of years ago. I don't know where he is now, but a protest at his place would be some must-see Twitter.

On a related note, can you imagine how much money "Major League" Soccer is losing with the pandemic? It's not like it was a big money-maker to begin with, and now with no ticket revenue, you have to suspect the house of cards could fall. As readers of the first version of this blog know, if the Timbers are in trouble, so is the Portland city government. Lord Paulson's deal with City Hall, which in theory owns the soccer stadium, is as sweet as can be for him.


  1. What do you bet Henry Paulson is busting Merritt's balls about this Timbers season?
    "Son, when you got me into this venture you said that TV rights were uncertain but selling tickets to the matches locally would not be a problem."
    "Father, surely you don't blame me for not anticipating a pandemic."
    "Why yes. That's exactly what I'm doing. It's a businessman's job to anticipate every eventuality."
    "That's just cruel. I must go see Mother now."
    "Oh stop being such a whiny little dipshit. It's like when Goldman Sachs did those deals with Greece."
    "Please, I've heard this story so many time before."
    "They didn't anticipate a pandemic either but we dropped the whole country to its knees. Damn near took down Europe."
    " Look, Dad. I know you're a greedy, twisted cruel bastard. So what? And I never asked for much. Just to own a few sports teams and live like a king."
    "Well, I think this season with the Timbers has shown you that these things come with some responsibility."
    "Oh, bite me, Dad."
    "Fuck you. I'll show you who has the 700 million and who doesn't. Where's my money you ungrateful little prick?"
    A fistfight ensues until the mother rushes in, "Boys, boys. We'll be late to the Wheeler's campaign party."
    "Oh screw him too. I'm thinking of having him replaced. That little bastard is just as feckless as Merritt here. My buddies in China would show him how to handle an uprising."
    "Yes, Dad, you've been kissing Chinese government ass so long, they think you're in their cabinet."
    "That's it. I'm limiting your allowance this month plus your supply of Grey Poupon."
    "Fine. Then I'm throwing all my influence against this Sarah woman."
    "What influence? Remember, Daddy didn't buy you an NFL team. It's only soccer."


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