0707/1744 60/70 Blue Skies NE15/20 90%H.
DOGS 11588 9156 1379 2940. Libor 24. Vix 18.
Greetings from the Hill.
Another beautiful day in paradise,
Tony back at home,
Jeffery busy downstairs,
Steve on his cellphone,
the oldman blogging...
"Doesn't get better than that,"
laughs the madone.
Tending the balcony cuban oregano,
giving a plant to Sandy,
one of Steve's students,
who arrived in 1980, the Carter Wave.
The house was alive...
the home comfortable.
Tony's special chili simmering
in the galley above Love Lane.
Classics in the study,
Tits and fools on CNBC,
Tony cooking and Steve lecturing,
the oldman sipping a pint.
The closing bell for another day
of fraudsters, thieves, and banksters,
a pathetic coverup for corruption
with dissemination to the dummies.
"Hey, Steve, calling your broker,"
laughs Rigo offering best wishes.
He arrived in 1965.
The oldman knew him since he was twelve.
Key West is the best.
"All right, oldman, gotta go,
just want to see you're alive, buuuttt,"
as the dream arrives in the hallway,
always the flirt.
"Hello, hello, hello,"
grinning with curiosity,
offering the lady a chair
and accepting another pint.
Life goes on.
The oldman was pissed again,
CNBC made him mad...
trillions were the common denominator,
toxic securities the equation
with the Fed as shadow banker,
for the global debt and world bankers,
the dollar as currency reserve
has 'it's' last Christmas...
Uncle Sam ain't Santa Claus.
"We have lost both relative economic strength
and more important, we have lost a coherent
successful government model
to be emulated by the rest of the world...
instead we are faced with broken financial markets,
underperformance of our economy
and a fractious political climate...
the question is whether
the exceptional role of the dollar
can be maintained."
Paul Volcker.
The question is has China been manipulated
or is doing the manipulating,
the end of dollar hegemony
when there is no Slurp to the Zirp,
no more blood in 401K's
and trading marrow for toll roads.
Cash flows to CINTRA and MIG
engineered by Goldman Sachs,
the traitors who trade away
the flag for money,
while young men die
in an Idiot's War.
Another pussy president
who never served his country
or defended his nation,
Yellow George was the last.
He parachuted out of his plane,
leaving his copilot to land,
and that grin forever.
A sorry ass bunch of leaders
who follow the money
but can't find corruption
under the desk.
Imagine if lying was taxed,
a little untruth or horribly uncouth,
a small transfer tax on trades
made every day on other peoples stock,
monitored through clearing houses
by computers out dated
and terminals by Bloomberg,
grifters and balance account lifters
determined to implement pixels
to replace fiat...
debit cards for all
and the Obama flat tax
on purchases...
food stamps from JPMC,
30% loans from CITI
and 10% mortgages
from Freddie and Fannie,
guaranteed by the IRS...
Until Death do we Pay!
"What the fuck happened to the plan,
surely 'it' wasn't a scam
modeled after a Fed model
with flat tits and no ass...
looking like Greenspan's wife,
bubbles on bubbles
until an economy in rubbles,
planned destruction for globalists
for a one world credit card...
and a clearing house
in Washington,"
snorts the oldman
enjoying the chili
in the dark of the night.
The rules of the game were still the same,
stiff the sucker and fleece the rube,
always a circus
and no free ride.
One day no one comes.
Above the Horn.
Inside the Reef.
Merry Christmas.
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