Since WWII, a new ritualistic corporate religion has taken over the hearts, minds, and wallets of the corporate and Wall Street godfathers. This new paganism isn't based on the one true old God of American capitalism past, "Virtue Through Honorable Profit", but on the many cult practices which demand continuing sacrifice to the many new demigods in the new pantheon of the New World Economic Order. It is to this end that I present an abbreviated listing and explanation of these pseudo-capitalistic new economic paganistic practices, as practiced by the New World Economic Order Pagan Priests.

If the near-term situation is going to be...	...then the ritual called for is:
Because of a series of new stock options voted on by The Board to compensate the new CEO they brought in, the next quarter's per share earnings will be reduced from $.25 per share to $.23 per share for the one-time charge, under 'Street estimates, probably causing a momentary dive in stock prices, resulting in a possible shareholder lawsuit.	Find the one virgin left in the entire company, a recent BYU grad in the Salt Lake City office, offer her for sacrifice on MoneyLine With Lou Dobb's altar, then close the entire Midwest Division, firing all 5,000 employees without warning, just to prop up expectations of the following quarter's earnings.
A Far East competitor has beaten your R&D division to the punch by getting a patent on a similar product that your folks have been working on for the past 5 years, one that The Board has staked the future of the company on.	You call in a priest to do a ritual that involves laying on of hands to a goat's forehead while invoking every vile and profane complaint about the competition, before turning the goat loose in the parking lot so it can wander over and be hit by a car in rush hour traffic out on The Beltway, afterwards that same day firing the 19 year-and-364-day~one day-short-of-final-vestment head of your R&D department, because his department didn't get the widget patented before the competition.
The Board decides that it's time for their bidecameral Executive Planning Session slash retreat in Tahiti over the Holiday season.	Cast their immediate future with runestones made from the teeth of employees that were foolish enough to enroll on the now-abandoned overpriced and underserviced company-wide dental plan, and seeing little if any negative consequences in the reading of the stones from their actions forthcoming, fire every fifteenth employee whose last name is a surname of an ethnic group they dont like, i.e., "Stein", "Wang", "Mohammed", "Lopez", etc., to pay for the retreat.
After building the Software Division a new headquarters building, so that every programmer could have an office with an eavesdropping-proof window under the assumption that even geeks need sunshine to keep from feeling like total voluntary prisoners, after six months total division productivity still doesn't rise at all.	Gutslice a chicken open on the Altar Of Geekdom at the Shrine Of Bill Gates, read the entrails as they spill onto the Gucci loafers of your division's high geek priest, then fire the entire division (they can all easily find jobs in this economy, and most are overpaid and underworked after being with the co. for over ten years anyway), lease the building for double your actual amortization and maintenance costs to a new start-up firm, then move all the workload to a jobshop in India, where a programmer thinks a daily wage of $5.00 is a Godsend from their pagan peers in the States.
The CEO Priest of a competitor closes down an entire division of theirs that's been consistently profitable for the past 80-some years, and moves all the production to Mexico, just to boost the next quarter's earnings and cause a contract tripwire to engage where he can cash out some huge stock options.	You go on a vision quest to the peak of Denali, climbing in subzero weather for four days straight without food or sleep or water or even a warm coat, before being rescued by the a worried-sick VP flying in on the company executive Bell Jetranger helo, at which point you make a decision to close a similar division within your company's hierarchy, except that you'll best your peer at the other co. by moving all the production to Antarctica, the fact that Antarctica has no permanent population base to draw potential workers from, the NSF scientists there, and the Global Worldpark Treaty on Antarctica be damned.
Your company's R&D Department accidentally develops a genetically engineered biotoxin that could wipe out all human beings on the face of the Earth within six weeks of its accidental release.	Using a pair of treelimb lobbing shears, you cut off the little finger at the second knuckle of the genius scientist on your payroll who developed it, then using the Rorschach of blood patterns and puddles and pools that squirt forth from the amputated finger, read from it that you need to immediately hire a high-priced Washington lobbyist, so they can let it slip to the Director Of CIA that you have such a sweetly evil biotoxin in your possession, guaranteeing that you'll be on the shortlist of the next batch of Government RFP's that until now your company could never quite make the cut on.
For the past thirteen consecutive quarters, total employee productivity company-wide continues to decline by a steady rate of 1% per quarter.	The priests within the company's HMO buy a batch of dried sex organs taken from "harvested" baby wombats from an associate firm in China, which they require all hourly employees to partake of twice a day, until the declining trend in employee productivity reverses itself.
Your company's patent on its main source of income for the past-some-years, an innovative anti-depressant drug, expired last week, and generic competitors are already flooding the market with copies.	Climbing up to the roof of company headquarters, the company's New Pagan Priests behead a small helpless rodent while simultaneously setting a rehabbed formerly crippled eagle free, and achieving their sought-for vision from the rituals, decide to, at the following midnight, have all employees within the company go sugar the gas tanks of all the vehicles in the competition's fleet .
The CEO's corporate limo reaches the five-year and 50,000 mile mark, but due to austerity measures imposed by The Board, can't go out and purchase a new one, without finding savings or money from somewhere else.	Drawing a name from a bag of all employee names written individually on slips of paper and placed in the tanned stomach sack made from a past sacrificial cow, chooses one employee to have a secret viatical life insurance policy placed on them, and have them soon scheduled for sacrifice by the co.'s High Priest. No, not firing, not just job termination, actual termination, the viatical policy proceeds going guess where.
The CEO is rapidly approaching the company-wide mandatory retirement age of 65.	With all The Board Members dressed in their ritualistic white robes, the new, chosen replacement for the old and aged CEO thrusts the long-possessed and majical athame directly into the heart of the "retiring" CEO, the Priests reading the future of the company via the blood patterns that form on the floor and walls as the old CEO's lifeblood drains from his body, before someone realizes the maintenance department should have at least covered the $50,000 100-year-old room-sized Persian carpet underneath their feet and the massive hand-carved oak conference desk/corporate altar with clear sheetplastic, to keep from ruining the carpet and having to have the soles of their wingtips cleaned.