First, Goldman bought out all the Detroit-area warehouses where bulk aluminum was stored. Then they effectively drove up the worldwide price of the metal by artificially increasing the wait times for aluminum orders more than tenfold. But they couldn't just perpetually stockpile the aluminum and let the prices climb ever higher, because there were regulations in place requiring them to ship a certain amount of it each day. So ship it they did ... to another warehouse. That was also owned by Goldman. From the closet, to the bed, to your stupid sister's room (fortune favors the bold), and back to the floor. Repeat. The price of aluminum went up, Goldman collected rent on it for the entire time they shuffled it among their many warehouses, and you eventually paid more for that can (via increased soda prices) -- win-win-lose!

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"One for you, one for me. Two for you, one, two for me."

While the average cost to the consumer was miniscule -- only about a tenth of a cent per can -- the industry used so much aluminum that Goldman almost certainly built a Scrooge McDuck-style money bin with the profits. We're trying to muster up some outrage -- but honestly, who could stay mad at Goldman, with those dimples, and Sachs, with his puppy dog eyes. The little scamps!

And thus, the zombie title was born.

See, rather than repossessing and selling off the homes of people who could no longer afford payments, mortgage lenders started telling people they were going to repossess their homes, and then muttered "psyche" under their breath with their fingers crossed. So the homeowners would clear out and find other places to live, only to be stalked by debt collectors -- in some cases even threatened with jail time -- for not paying fees or managing the upkeep on properties they thought they no longer owned. The offending banks, on the other hand, not only didn't have to swallow the costs of selling a house at drastically reduced rates, but also got to claim tax benefits and other financial compensation for a foreclosure that never really happened. Then, when lenders refused to take responsibility for the homes they never actually reclaimed, municipalities ended up shelling out taxpayer dollars to keep the abandoned houses from falling into disarray. And by "falling into disarray" we mean "friggin' exploding," which has happened to several of these "foreclosed" houses when the natural gas supply was left on. Zombies and explosions?

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Welcome to the exciting world of pseudo-legal mortgage fraud!

It works on the same principle that allows Native American tribes to erect an enormous casino right in the middle of a state where gambling is illegal. The tribes are immune to many state laws, especially pertaining to finance: It's sort of the consolation prize the white man gave them for coming in second in the genocide marathon. Well, payday lenders figured out that some financially struggling tribes just don't have the knack to run a decent casino (it takes a certain kind of person to schmooze with Tom Jones), so they began enticing the tribes into a new money-making endeavor: Internet payday loans.

Once the payday lender finances a new "tribal lending entity" under the tribe's name, they inherit the tribe's sovereign immunity, and they're free to ream borrowers with interest rates as high as 782 percent. So why don't state or federal officials crack down on these unfair lending practices? Well, some say it's high time to do just that, but it's not quite so cut-and-dry. Remember, the tribes that enter into these deals are not exactly rolling in the dough otherwise, so whichever side a lawmaker chooses, they're screwing someone. So the choice is really between screwing the other-American poor or screwing the Native American poor. And that, uh ... that is a choice that has not historically gone in the favor of the Native Americans.

National Archives
Amazingly, calling it a "treaty" did nothing to improve their outlook.

It's estimated that close to 10 percent of buses have failed safety inspections, then been secretly camouflaged and put back on the road, in some cases even after they've already been involved in deadly accidents. That's not just unsafe mechanically, that's unsafe spiritually. We've seen Ghost Dad, we know all about the close association between restless spirits and public transport, thank you.

That's not the only way unsafe public vehicles get back on the road: The criminally ambitious owner of New York Party Shuttle (because nothing says "party" like cracked vertebrae!) invented whole new ways to flip safety regulations the flying, backhanded double bird. He designated his vehicles as tour buses (which are unregulated), used a third party to sell tickets online, and rebranded his company as a travel agency -- all to keep from having to comply with safety inspectors. Hey, you know what they say: You can't make an omelet without breaking a few eggs.

New York Party Shuttle
And you can't keep a travel agency in business these days without some shady-ass dealings.

You're the egg in that idiom.