Recently, some film critics have noted a resurgence in "feel good films," the sort of fun, mindless entertainment that one watches when things are starting to get difficult in the real world.

Citing the inexplicable popularity of Beverly Hills Chihuahua, some suggest that the stalled economy has left moviegoers yearning for the kinds of films that will enable them to forget about the difficulties of everyday life.

Admittedly, there is a fair bit of evidence to back up this idea. The top ten movies over the past month or so have skewed heavily escapist, with goofy comedies, sex farces, children's films, and violent fantasy flicks all doing quite well. In fact, even the few movies set in the "real" world were either civics lessons that peaked around the time of the elections (Oliver Stone's W) or period pieces, like The Secret Life of Bees and Changeling. As far as contemporary America was concerned, it basically has served as the background for unrealistically redemptive, feel-good comedies (Soul Men, Role Models, Sex Drive) or romances (Zack and Miri Make a Porno, Nights in Rodanthe).

Were you convinced that the antics surrounding American International Group (AIG) couldn't get any worse? After all, there was that big $85 billion bailout... which somehow almost doubled within a matter of weeks. Then there were the stories of spa trips and luxury resorts. Taxpayers are rightfully dismayed at the thought of bailing out a company with their money, only to see funds squandered.

(Yes, I understand that the trips were by people in a subsidiary that is a different one than the one that needed to be bailed out... But it's all AIG and when one part of the company spends money, the whole company is spending money.)

But there's another side to the AIG story that hasn't been talked about as much. AIG employees are being harassed and threatened by angry consumers. Stock market celebrity Jim Cramer of Mad Money television fame told his viewers to harass AIG employees in public. Seriously? Most of the employees of AIG aren't to blame for the company's mess. Upper management is. The employees don't deserve to be harassed just for doing their jobs or being a part of a sketchy company.

Following the taxpayer-funded bailout of American International Group (AIG) tales of spa trips, canceled spa trips, hunting extravaganzas, and executive bonuses have been irritating consumers nationwide.

Whether you consider the "bailout" to be merely a loan to get AIG through hard times or corporate welfare (or something in between), the fact is that taxpayers are helping save the company.

It's no surprise, then, that ordinary folks like you and me are awfully interested in how AIG is spending its money. After all, when we go through rough financial times, we usually cut back on all the extras. Good news came Wednesday that the former CEO Martin Sullivan will not receive $19 million in severance payments (for now, anyway) and a $600 million pot of bonus money won't be distributed.

These two items might be chump change in light of the almost $123 billion in credit lines the government has made available to AIG, but even holding back on this spending (which amounts to less than 1% of the total the government has offered up) sends an important message: If you want taxpayer help, you better be willing to cut any and all corners necessary to be a responsible recipient of the money.

Over the past few weeks, as the stock market has had bigger mood swings than Judy Garland popping pills on Christmas day while riding a roller coaster during an earthquake, the news has almost entirely focused either on the travails of average Americans or on the morally repugnant machinations of Wall Street geniuses. This narrow perspective, however, ignores the larger impact of the real estate bubble and the subprime meltdown. As trillions of dollars have seemingly evaporated from the world, it's worth considering who actually owned the money that has disappeared.

One group that lost big was the Irish Republican Army. After the IRA signed a ceasefire in 1997, it followed the advice of its financial advisors, investing its war chest into the U.S. property market. It subsequently moved its funds into high-dividend deposit accounts in the U.S. According to some reports, the recent Wall Street meltdown may have cost the former terrorist group as much as $274 million.

Like many American investors, the IRA is currently "in a state of panic" over the loss of its investments. On the other hand, unlike most Americans, the IRA also has a history of armed revolt and a demonstrated willingness to handle its grudges at gunpoint. Right now, I'm really glad that I don't work for AIG!

Bruce Watson is a freelance writer, blogger, and all-around cheapskate. Right now, he's wondering if Peru's "Shining Path" or Germany's "Baader Meinhof" was heavily invested in the market.

As if one trip to a luxury spa resort wasn't enough for American International Group (AIG) following its taxpayer-funded bailout, the company had plans to do it all over again.

50 AIG managers were scheduled to do a deluxe retreat at the Ritz-Carlton resort in Half Moon Bay. The company said it was going to host 150 top-producing agents for educational purposes.

The cost of this "educational opportunity?" Ritz Carlton rooms go for $300 to $1,200 a night, plus high costs for meals, drinks, and entertainment. If the earlier trip is any indication, this whole extravaganza could cost the company around $500,000.

Outrage from taxpayers has led management to cancel this outing, and lawmakers are relieved. Some defended the trips as standard fare for high-level producers for insurance companies. The independent agents win these trips by selling a lot of insurance products. Yet it seems excessive in light of the taxpayer assistance required by AIG.

With taxpayers on the hook for billions of dollars of loans made to AIG to help keep them in business, the company needs to find another way to give incentives to the sales force. Standard industry practice or not, these trips don't go over well during a time when belts are being tightened by the little guys. The cancellation of the trip is good news for now. Let's see what AIG comes up with next.

Tracy L. Coenen, CPA, MBA, CFE performs fraud examinations and financial investigations for her company Sequence Inc. Forensic Accounting, and is the author of Essentials of Corporate Fraud.

If we ever needed an argument against using taxpayer money to bail out private companies who made bad decisions and are teetering on the brink of extinction, this is it.

Less than one week after the U.S. government forked out $85 billion related to the American International Group (AIG) mess, the AIG executives took a little jaunt to a California spa and spent $440,000 on their stay.

The executives stayed at the exclusive St. Regis Resort in Monarch Beach, and plunked down $139,000 for rooms, $147,000 for banquets, $23,380 spa services, plus other expenses for alcohol and entertainment. A normal two-night stay at the St. Regis with a "health and wellness" package costs $1,200. Quite the bargain, especially for a company begging for taxpayer handouts.

I love the idea of a 100 year crash. It makes the market seem mysterious and inexorable, a force of nature that is completely uncontrollable.

Hearkening to the image of the 100 year flood or the 17 year locust, the 100 year crash seems to make sense. After all, seasons go in cycles, oceans rise and recede, and it seems natural to assume that our economy's cycles of expansion and recession would hit the occasional neap tide, resulting in massive growth or massive reduction. Best of all, the 100 year crash gives us the idea that financial crises are nobody's fault: they are part of an eternal process, like the movement of Apollo's chariot across the heavens or the seasonal chill caused by Persephone's return to Hades.

It isn't all that hard to figure out how the idea of the 100 year crash came about. Right now, we are a few weeks away from the 101st anniversary of the 1907 stock market crash; a couple of weeks after that, we will have the 79th anniversary of Black Sunday, the crash that signaled the start of the Great Depression.