The anger of Bernard Madoff’s victims spilled onto Manhattan’s Pearl Street on Thursday, freshly heated by a confession that touched all the requisite legal bases but never touched home. In a plea allocation slightly more than five pages long, the gray-suited, silver-haired villain outlined his preposterous scheme, made all the more absurd by the utter inability of any regulator to unmask what had been unmasked for them. For anyone who would look closely, his financial wizardry was as credible as those old crudely doctored photos that appeared to show a swami levitating.