0733/1936 72/80 Blue skies NE10/20 75%H.
DOGS 11763 100.1 1403 34.6 Libor 24 Vix 20.
Greetings from the Hill.
Another day in paradise,
classics and CNBC...
back at 'Big Mac',
smoking a fat roach
and sipping a Millers' girl,
ten days left.
Waiting for the Asshole to lie!
"Hey", roars the painter,
"Donald Trump doesn't believe
where Obama was born".
Updating the Presidential Race.
Off to paint another 'wooden vernacular'
for two grand...
"I love Key West",
singing up the street
on his tricycle.
"Do you need any beer",
laughs the gardener,
maintaining inventory.
The oldman was enjoying afternoon siestas.
"Did I wake you up...
say, do you think Kaddafi is a queer?",
giggled the carpenter rolling a joint
for a shower, shave and shit
before freemealing
with an older woman
in the home of her own...
a man living in his van
without amenities.
The painter working for two hundred a day...
Life was hard in the sub tropics.
"Learn to dribble the best...
then master the jump shot,
there are taller heads than you,"
leaving him at private school
to travel under deep cover
into the soul of Asia,
fluent in five languages,
when in Hawaii
they read the NBA rulebook
on a sunny beach smoking pot...
"Mom....I have a dream...."
But she wasn't there to see
him win the game
with his jumpshot....
and the state championship too.
She worked for Mr. Geithner
and the Ford Foundation.
A smarty ass young man finds trouble
flirting with the ideas of change
promulgated by gay professors,
the most perverse demanding all
from the pretty white weiny
'that grow big' with dreams.
Momma moved to New York,
the dreamer boy went to Columbia
and hung out in Harlem as a spy,
nobody imagined considering
Malcolm X was Momma's man.
"Who woudda imagined den?"
The Muslim Brotherhood so close.
A National ID Card....May 11, 2011.
One in five is unemployed...
One in four works for government...
One in three is diseased.
One of two is crazy.
The last one must be mad!
The Age of Entitlement is Gone.
Could the situation have been engineered
by the wizards making models,
romantic dreams of greedy schemes
based on the Bible of course,
the insurance man's guide...
then guaranteed by a banker's bet
"Just in case the market gets a dose,"
cackles a hedge fund operator
mailing out germs.
Mister Moody Lawrence sold his house
to two middle aged sissies
with a burgundy Audi convertible
ten feet away.
"700 Hundred Grand and lost money,"
growls the madone.
"Should have been two million at least!"
"Where's he gonna live now...still owes the bank."
"That old woman won't have him now."
Talk about Five Brothers in the darkness
imagined the oldman in front of the Mac,
could 'it' be an organized effort to globalize
the bureaucracy of a nation through a union
of member depositors in a debt Trust,
manipulated by the Pixelators.
"Somebody has to make the flags
and design the T shirt...
make all those hats,"
drooled the Duval Street merchant,
the old black man juiced tobacco
on the sidewalk...
the punk inherited the store,
he eased onto his Schwinn cruiser
to glide up the hill
by that house.
"I'd like to have the Hedge Funds
that have a hundred billion bucks
of Lybian and Eygptian stolen assets,"
bullassed the economic professor
at the junior college...
looking for young boys in the morning.
"Hey...Mister Economics...
How can an old man get some...
of that Zero Interest...,"
laughing with the old farts.
Staying connected required
solar and wind power
"On a high roof."
Getting along
requires respect.
"Moan, Groan and be Alone!"
"You know he really snores loud
and masturbates against the wall,"
sniffing at the indecentry of description,
communal life was coming to an end...
winter ends and the rains begin,
from chills to flowers
in another forest,
another dream to think about
in the garden of Maybe
where if you want you can.
"Hofuckingho,"
roared the painter,
home for lunch...
working on the street.
Classics from Havana,
chimes on the balcony,
'House' in the corner north,
the oldman feeling good
and trying to be funny...
such a happy gift.
"Okay...I'm off with Jeffery
and I'm gonna get cat food,"
always thinking of the pets.
Some are kind
others aren't.
The oldman wondered about painting.
"Maybe the thirty three windows again,"
sneered the madone,
the visionary.
The house needed affection and attention.
Something is rotten in Washington
and corrupt on Wall Street,
CNN, CNBC, FOX and USA,
who do you believe on Main Street,
"Where was Obama with his Momma?"
An operative with the CIA.
Imagine a President who speaks Farsi!
"Well Barry dreamed of basketball...
but he wasn't that tall and he would fall,
weak legs and all...."
and she never liked
his black wife.
Momma was there to the End.
Obama was never, just like his dad,
dead drunk in a ditch before fifty,
only brain dead in the White House,
disappointing the believers,
benefacting the Debt Receivers,
instigating anarchy among the black
while none of the above...
"Where did this fucker come from...
and I want to know about his
'Travels with Momma,"
rages The Donald.
Life goes on...
Above the Reef.
All within belief.
