I'm not a betting woman, so I'm not making any predictions on the outcome of the Joe Nacchio insider-trading trial. But there is one sure thing you can count on: Whatever happens to the former Qwest CEO, it won't be any consolation to the investors - many of them Qwest employees - who lost their savings when the stock tanked shortly after Nacchio cashed in his options.

Recent history has shown us that even corporate baddies who get busted don't fall too far. I worked at one company whose top dog was found guilty of multiple fraud charges a couple of years ago. While he works on his appeal, he remains comfortably at home, with his lawyers and lifestyle unwillingly underwritten by the company he bilked. Such spectacles challenge the average Joe's faith in the system. That's why retribution is the only way to rid investors of their angst. Preferably, retribution with high entertainment value. Public humiliation is the answer.

After all, public shaming is a proud American tradition. Our stiff-necked colonial ancestors put criminals in stocks in the public square. Maybe we can't pillory people for real anymore, but here are a couple of appealing alternatives for future business bad guys.

• Force corporate con artists to return their ill-gotten gains, and make it a festive event. I'm thinking of the Polish wedding tradition known as "the money dance," in which spectators pin money onto the bride's gown.

How about a reverse money dance? The CEO who destroyed his company and made out like a bandit would have lots of large-denomination bills stapled to his nicest suit. Then he'd be sent into the employee cafeteria to perform an interpretive dance while the poor saps who entrusted him with their livelihoods strip him of the cash.

• Put executive chain gangs to work on public works projects. The orange jumpsuits would be pretty embarrassing, and we could enhance the effect by printing each prisoner's name and company in big letters on the back. This would be a lot more effective than a "perp walk" (the media event in which big shots are handcuffed and run through a gauntlet of news photographers) because the guys would be on display for much longer, and the average citizen wouldn't need press credentials to go gawk at them.

Plus, can you imagine the hilarity that would ensue when masters of the universe were chained together and forced to move in unison? They're definitely not team players.

• Require bad guys to appear in mortifying YouTube videos. Criminally greedy executives could be dressed in spandex, dusted with glitter, and ordered to perform Barry Manilow tunes before an audience of shareholders and employees equipped with custard pies and rotten tomatoes. The beauty of this concept is that it's eternal. The video would live forever on the Internet, resurfacing whenever the disgraced crook tried to reclaim his place at the top of the heap by starting a new company or publishing a book. It wouldn't put a dime back in anybody's pocket, but you can't put a price on revenge.

Erica Heath is a 20-year veteran of the corporate wars. Her e-mail address is ericaheath@aol.com.