And a Merry Christmas to All!

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.

Forty Degrees tonight...Inside!

0701/1740 50/60 Cloudy NW15/30 60%H.
DOGS 11467 8865 1399 2966. Libor 24. Vix 17.

Greetings from the Hill.

Cold and getting colder,
hunkering down for the forties,
"Inside the house tonight,
no central heating or plugins,
just blanket on blanket,"
laughs the madone
done 'it' before.

The strawberries are fucked in Florida.

The painter in the garden
warming up on the grill...
chicken breasts and baked potatoes,
green beans and yams
with cafe con leche...
tough life on the hill.

"Hey, oldman, your ride is waiting,"
mocking Peter's Wraithe,
the Queen's colours.

The young lady treating the oldfart.

A night on the town with a dream.

Almost forty years ago when Howie
moved the building from the library
down Duval Street trucked by Red,
trimming the poincianas on the way,
putting daylight on Fleming Street...
when things were different.

"Hey, Mad Jack...I thought you were dead,"
laughs the owner still out of jail.

The sweet one held his arm,
walking him to Capt. Tony's
and thirty years of memories,
Joe oogling the lady love...
"And I thought you were dead,"
offering drinks on the house.

"I read your blog about Barry and Ben,"
admitting his death a myth.

The Rolls Royce followed up the street.

Carter was President when Shar
ran the 'Bull' bar, another love,
three decades ago...
the oldman's legs were wobbly,
memories were just as thin,
a sensitive touch guiding him
to a leather back seat...
and home on the hill.

Back to Big Mac.

Reading Joe Bageant in Mexico.

Watching the Weather Channel.

Making up stories about the Fed and Ted,
basis points and Libor,
the City of London and Main Street,
Rothschild's and Rockefeller's
ownership through the CFR
of Media Mainstream,
"Fox and talking cocks,
dumbify the consumer cows,
Rubert and Wendy, stooges for the Illuminati,
computer clouding from Comcast,
Google with the X37B
and the idiot Obama dunces."

"Buy silver and fuck JPMC and Dimon."

"Not very fucking likely in the nation of meek."

"Boehner sheds a tear for Ron Paul...
Domestic Monetary Policy Chairman
with a retarded son, Rand, ruining all,
stupider than Bush, dumber than Palin,
some clever conspiracy by whom?"

Wonders a voice in the hallway.

Bill sucking Gross and Larry fucking Fink.

Hedge funds have sequestered the cash,
acquired the worthless bonds
and shorted the equities...
BlackRock Bank of America
has the new signs ready.

The British are back...
never trust a limey!

Barclay Bank is Jewish.

Hillary's son in law is one of 'them'.

Obama is a gutless wonder.

George Soros is not that smart,
maybe he has access to a 2.6 petaflopper,
a quadrillion a second, NVidia Tesla,
courtesy of Wendy Dong,
to calculate gas reserves in Iran.

Bernanke and the twelve boobs
with their twenty five slugs
corrupt the nation.

Above the Horn.

Within the Reef.

On the Hill.

How High is the Ceiling of Debt?

0654/1738 60/70 Blue Skies NE10/20 80%H.
DOGS 11318 8715 1389 2615.Libor 24. Vix 21.

Greetings from the Hill.

A chilly day in paradise,
long pants and socks,
cats on the sunny railing
and windows closed...
the oldman trying to find the time
to get the imagination in rhyme.

Watching House and ignoring CNBC,
"Not even the senile Maestro
playing mindfuck with the morons,"
laughs the madone bringing coffee.

"You lift 600 pounds at noon
then drink six pounds in the afternoon,"
frowning about daily habits,
but saying with a smile.

The painter had made 'it' through the month.

Three sold,six finished and four in progress,
rent paid, fridge and pantry filled,
colored TV in the gazebo
with baby coons as guests.

"Hey...I like 'it' here!"

A seeker of that mysterious wonder of gift
that allows the eye and hand to reproduce
with paint and canvas and a trusty easal,
something pleasing to the eye,
a vision curious to the mind.
that moment captured in time...
usually a week
standing on the street,
the stawker at night watching
the night people...
sucking beer
smoking pot
dreaming of pussy.

"Hey, I am what I am,"
laughing and playing a 'Popeye' song
on his harmonica,
an actual one man band
with bass, keyboard and guitar.

The ultimate studio man.

"That's damn white of you, Bigotman,
color TV and adornondak chairs,
gas grill in a succulent garden
classics and internet
with four windows
and a rocker on the balcony...
maybe he'll paint portraits at home,"
snarled the snot on the balcony,
feeding Viola  a saucer of morning milk.

Jake arrived to pay his loan
and boast about romancing a topless dancer.

The oldman turned on the classics
and switched to CNBC.

Sunny and seventy degrees.

One imagines how long the bullshit goes on,
lying Assholes shorting currency bets
protected by derivative bets
guaranteed by counterparties...
not even investments,
gambling on a trend
how soon will 'it'' end...
the default of sovereign governments
and the Euro with
a new world currency...
an Amro with an Afro.

Five Primary Dealers,
twelve central banks
and a crooked congress.
responsible for the mess.

"Maybe something sneaky is going on,
the books are being fudged,
the off balance sheet
is a profit treat,"
laughs the Kid
leaving a rhyme.

Key West is my town,
trouble my gown,
sex without frown...
all one family
in paradise.

"Mad Jack..Mad Jack..,"
gushes the love of his mind,
"I am so sorry I lost Tony's bike,"
apologizing for stupidity
and gullibility.

Dumb and not young
anymore.

Gold was1416 and oil looked at ninety.

Silver was being manipulated
by Uncle George
for another blue bicycle.

"Obama, where is Osama?"

"We have to grow the economy."

With cheeseburgers in paradise.

The painter leaves
to paint the empty streets.

Above the Horn.

Within the Reef.

Safe on the Hill...
the christmas tree lights on.

IPO's, Defaults and Derivatives.

0647/1738 70/82 Blue Skies NE 10/15 70%H.
DOGS 11203 8151 1353 2751. Libor 23. Vix 18.

Greetings from the Hill.

Another lovely week in paradise,
far away from economic scams
of the master's of deceit
inventing and engineering
new methods to extricate
the masses wealth,
soon to eliminate all cash
replaced by a world debt card
in the age of 'Digitoma'...

another new word.

"Visatoma in a coma!"
laughs the madone.

Imagine the costs of making cards,
patriotic colors with flags,
of each state bank,
a drivers permit as well and voting too,
no balance....no drive no vote.

"All state banks and no Assholes,
eliminate the whores of the Fed,
agents of central banks...
those Masters of the Market
in wholesale swindle who gamble
everyday  the nation's wealth
at rigged tables in a Crooked Casino,
the House never loses
taking fees and commissions first,"
growls the madone
always amazed at trapped saps.

Fred was pissed, the Iceman in Paradise,
wasting money in tourist traps
visiting his good friend Steve...
Norway had a balance of payments
and vast oil reserves,
free health care and education,
english their second language...
american TV with english captions.

Homer Simpson in spanish.

"Imagine being subsidized for a year
to bring up the baby!",
marveled the madone
over a nation that cared
about it's citizens.

Norway's pension fund was soon to be
the richest in the world...
a nation of five million
and no derivatives,
perhaps an honest government.

Oil, shipping and energy
with lots of fish.

"And the Cuban Refugee Orchestra."

Wall Street offers another chance
with the GM IPO to resusitate
the terminal giant,
22 Billion in financial engineering
for electric cars and corn fuels
and Ally Banking...
the dead end alley.

Bill Gross is pissed with the policy
that Senile Al claims a 'mistake',
his former prodigy out of favor
with the coupon clippers.

Barry boy lost in space,
"Yeah, that void between his ears,
fighting a losing race against DEBT
and the DERIVATIVE BET,"
snorts the oldman
ready for a sunday pint
in a blue law morning town.

"What the fuck can Jerry Brown do?"

The state is a hopeless mess,
ignored by the media and government,
vultures gambling on default
with never to be regulated bets,
the pension plan a ponzi scheme
on the dark side of redemptions,
not even legalized pot
for the defeatist lot.

"This place sucks,"
laments Tony,
wanting a ticket home to paradise.

Coumo playing the nasty cop
before taking the mantel of his dad,
inheriting the corruption of Albany,
the swindling of Wall Street,
the mendacity of Bloomberg.

"Hey, dumbfucks, what about that tax,
a little transfer tax on trading,
the 'Warehouse' clears all,
follow the pixels
right into the OTC,"

But not very likely,
unless the world's fastest computer
was bought from the chinese,
goodbye Google, hello Doogle!

"Those yellow people at US universities
comprise twenty percent of classes,
just like Toronto and speak the tongue
 as fluent as 'City of London' bankers,
driving LaRouche nuts",
offers Lovelane Jack
monitoring the irrigation
of the garden.

Bill was downstairs at his computer
worrying over orders and balances,
struggling to survive
and keep his business alive,
"There is no domestic businesss,
orders are all overseas,
the emerging markets",
exporting from a website,
a wizard at expediting,
slicker than shit
and cash in advance.

"A dangerous game of kiting
with manufacturer's money,"
mumbled the oldman.

The thing about 'it' is...
a downshift of human personality
to a thing,,, the consumer,
rather than an expression of creative powers,
the sensual experience replaced
the creative insights of the mind,
sex replacing the customary
with the novel,
fantasy with reality,
fiat for gold,
dreams of debt.

"The Devil came to town
and promised Change and Hope,
then led us down the street
without a sign or light,
could 'it' be Avenue K,"
laughed the voice
on the balcony.

Above the Horn.

Inside the Reef.

All within belief.

Google Sucks!

0645/1738 75/81 Blue Skies SE 10 70%H.
DOGS 11023 8244 1339 2547. Libor 23. Vix 23.

Greetings from the Hill.

A lovely day in paradise.
classics in the study,
CNBC in the bedroom,
the oldman pissed
with Google.

The fuckfaces won't reconnect
his gmail account,
"Like trying to find a mortgage
at Wells Fargo or BofA,"
laughs the madone....
"Horses fucking Assholes!"

Rather annoying to recreate an identity,
somewhat like MBS's in the Fed.

Or subprimes in Fanny and Fred.

"Who's in Barney Frank's bed?"

Despondency is shading the skies
of american optimism, that hope
before the pathetic dope
conned the gullible,
reducing voters to apathy
for the last congress,
a president without balls
to stand up in the halls
and kick ass
on the money lenders.

"This stooge needs more rouge!"

The madone had no use for sissies.

Half white, halfwit, and all shit.

The very idea of blaming the head of state
for all the problems brought up to date,
accumulations of greed on Wall Street
and gullibility on Main Street,
a decade of engineered debt
for the consuming cows
producing no milk,
eating grass sitting on their ass,
imported chinese cheese
and burger meat from Brazil,
tomatoes from Mexico,
bread from Canada...

"What the fuck is made in USA...
a contract today
that could default tomorrow,
those derivatives in the wind
of the currency war
knocking at your front door,"
growls the oldman,
pissed with banksters
and the political gangsters
with scumball lawyers.

Of course the oldman was very pissed
with Google, the aggregater of information
that infilitrates all messages pandering
to the commercial market,
selling secrets...
but won't find his password,
won't answer a telephone,
protecting his identity...
from himself.

"The Internet is free for freedom of speech,"
for how long in the Obama song
singing softly with his lies,
lying with those eyes.

"A sorryass situation."

"You are so full of she it
lying in front of the TV shit,"
laughs the oldman from the study
watching Steve in the gazebo
with a gullible woman
on Love Lane.

Live goes on.

The oldman found 'it' hard to believe
that 'the creature' from Jekyll Island
was behind this massive coverup
and no investigation...
could the media be so stupid
or all convincing entertainers
manipulated by stoogehead producers,
puppets of the corporapists,
"Television is only entertainment,"
warned the creator of Star Trek,
when the DOW danced at 600.

To foster full employment
and monitor inflation
seemed a noble ambition
of the Federal Reserve Bank
protecting the masses...
then came diversification
and Bernie Cornfield,
multinationals and Swiss banks,
off the gold standard
then Nixon resigns,
the 'Oil Crisis',
and waiting lines
for gasoline.

Time for another war,
the 'Drug War'.

Drug dealing was easier than working.

Hidden profits and laundered money,
crooked bankers and offshore accounts,
Ollie North brokering bribes,
"Ronnie didn't remember!"
snorted the madone.

Is 'it' any wonder that financial engineering
became America's leading export,
bankers and lawyers mastering fraud
and bribing politicians...
"Bill signs the bill giving free reign
to the banker's toxic rain
to pour on the American dream parade."

Enough of the stuff,
memories are rough.

Above the Horn.

Safe on the Hill.

After Fantasy Fest and The Elections!

0738/1842 59/65 Blue Skies N10/20 50%H.
DOGS 11405 8677 1378 2602. Libor 23. Vix 19.

Greetings from the Hill.

A cold night in paradise,
the oldman was under the covers,
the windows closed
and the cats inside.

A sickness in the house,
everyone hacking and coughing,
from tourist germs.

Outsiders bringing infection.

"The Fest was a Fast,"
laughs the madone
over the speculator's profits.

"Hey, new sidewalks and curbs,
Obama money for the shoveling,
employing local illegals,"
a week of many events,
the Blog lost, Tony leaving,
the painter moved in,
electricity coming soon
to the bedroom,
a racoon on the front porch
eating the catfood at night.

Some things never change.

Listening to the nonesense from CNN
and the absurdity of CNBC,
Spitzer the new Fox idiot,
all a debasement of intellectual curiosity,
reducing thought to the lowest
common denominator...
stupidity.

"QE2 is about to sail,
with a full cargo of fiat
to debase world currency
and inflate the dollar,
wiping out debt,
the three stooges at work,
stockpiling the toxics of MBS
from Freddy and Fanny
and Ginny Mae
before Doomsday,"
sighs the oldman.

The Master of the Fed offers
"And thereby allowing the flow of money
into a riskier and higher yield investment,
encouraging once again the growth
of industries in America...
invention and technology."
a better world for lazy people
and the delegating class.

POMO, MBS, SOMA, FOMC...
GSE maturities into Treasuries,
PIMCO and Greenspan,
thin air assets disappearing in time,
shrinking the portfolio
of the banker's debt.

ZIRP with a big slurp.

The Primary Dealers take the money
and invest in other markets,
offshoring investments with labor,
the traders are traitors,
money waves no flag
on Wall Street.

A new and leaner company base,
pensions and benefits gone,
starting over without debt,
promises forgotten...
"Tough shit, old farts,
no more drugs."


Doesn't look good for Big Pharma.

Or Obama's karma.

"At least Fat Mac is not back."

"Cates seems softheaded."

Lawyers making the laws
that leave the loopholes
for government regulation
by the lobbyists.

Above the Horn,

Beyond the Reef.