0647/0538 75/85 Blue Skies 10/20 80%H.
DOGS 1150 9800 1700 3250 Libor 14. VIX 32.
Greetings from the Hill.
Another perfect day in paradise,
blue skies and beautiful...
a breeze in the Keys.
The oldman was still recuperating
from the last fall on the sidewalk
in front of the bank,
hundred dollar bills blowing in the wind.
"So much for rent money,"
grumbled the madone,
somewhat disappointed.
Trying to keep ahead of the cost of living.
"Hey, oldman...I know you like potato salad,"
leaving a couple of table spoons
of $6.00 a pound Faustos ripoff.
Coughing, hawking and farting from the 'flu'
contracted from partying a grand away with fools,
braying assholes and obsequious mules.
'following the money'.
Tough to be a star.
"Hey, what about Jon Corzine?",
mocks the madone watering the oregano.
The closing bell and sofuckingwhat,
watching CNBC silly cunts flirt
and bald headed fools lie to convince
the dumb stupid consumers
to save on 'Black Friday'...
or the smartfucks to buy
on 'Cybor Monday' online.
Comcast marketing and Fedex shipping,
diet dinners and Omaha steaks,
the DisneyWorld weather channel
and USA all day...
JPMChase is on your foodstamp card
and Goldman Sachs issues your SSI...
goodfuckingbye!
What to do...what to do?
Markets are tax free betting Casinos,
price disccovery and liquidity aggregation
or trade transparency...bullfuckingshit!
"Tax the Pirates!"
The Limeys have a VAT tax...20% to the public
to bail out 'The City of London'
the government pursuing an FTT
to follow the shadow financial engineering
of the Derivatives Market...
Horror of Horrors,
Cambridge, Goldman and the Queen.
An economic stake no longer than a nanosecond,
a trading objective more durable
than front running real investors
with HFT gaming.
"Did that little ugly worm, Bloomberg, do 'it' all
with his sneaky little terminals monitored
by Homeland Security and the Federal Reserve,
dreaming of being the first Jewish President?",
wonders Alger, visiting late.
Who can tell when the well is dry?
Making transactions valid and enforceable...
totally impossible without A Rule of Law
in the Obama Administration,
the Joker and Holder,
MERS avoiding transaction taxes
allowing originators to circumvent true title
for securitization in the 'dark pools'
of underwater mortgages.
Bank of America certainly is advertising on TV.
Clearing Houses record all transactions,
bonds, eguities, options and derivatives,
over the counter and under the counter,
VISA and the pixal counters...
cloud computing...money in the air.
Who conned the Greeks with CDS,
who fleeced the Spics with MBS,
and who shorted European Bonds
and got fired, waiving his salary...
a patsy for Paulson!
"He's doing the best he can,"
rationlizes every Asshole
who voted for the Fraud.
Growing the Economy with more DEBT everyday.
"Where's Obama?", wonders Mitt.
"Giving speeches to the pathetic victims of Dumb Wars,"
growls the madone, feeding the cats.
The oldman was tired of CNBC horseshit.
Time for 2 and a Half Men reruns.
Above the Horn.
Inside the Reef.
Home on the Hill.
Tuesday, November 22, 2011
Sunday, October 2, 2011
The Madness is just beginning!
0719 1913 79/88 Light Clouds NE 10/15 75%H.
DOGS 10913 7875 1624 2993. Libor 15. Vix 36.
Greetings from the Hill.
Another beautiful day in paradise,
the oldman testing out the crippled bones,
six weeks away from the blog...
"And 'it's' still the same old shit,
Obama grins and lies, Congress sighs,
Dimon and Blankfein conspire and con
while every day jobs are gone..."
growls the madone.
Baseball playoffs and cool nights,
a summer without hurricanes...
"Hey, oldfuck, summer in the Keys
lasts until Thanksgiving,"
sweeping the floors opening doors,
letting the breeze flow,
sunday housekeeping, gardening and garbage,
keeping the oldman occupied.
One wonders if the masses wonder anymore,
the gentrification of the media by Comcast,
barking tits on CNBC and FOX,
entertainment the drooling commercials
between bossy cunt heroines
playing cops, agents and lawyers...
"Hey, no wonder whitey has given up,
he only wanted TV and a couch!"
Every week the income falls as debt increases,
the Joker 'growing the economy' with Obamashit,
creating the illusion of a great future
for those who have climbed the mountain
and seen the promised land
with three 'D' glasses...
"When did this concept of entitlement consume
all classes of the masses white and black,
living on foodstamps and unemployment,
too gutless to fight back...
resigned to failure too tired to argue,
sunset dreams now morning nightmares
of empty pockets without chumpchange,
fools who couldn't save a dime
or pay a bill on time,"
wearied the oldman as the church bells rang
and GOD was late for work.
Thirty years of living off debt,
one might say an attitude begun with Ronnie,
enrichment programs and wealth enhancement,
the beginnings of euphemisms for financial scams,
"The model works fine at two percent growth,
four percent unemployment,
one percent foreclosure,"
persuaded the wisemen of the Federal Reserve,
advising of course the primary agents of crime,
while serving the insurance industry.
"Well, there must have been an agenda by some group,
certainly a concept of globalization could not
have been marketed without product or brand,
the international financing and laws
arranged by politicians and jurists,"
puffed Alger visiting with his artwork,
more magic from his new computer.
The oldman was on a new machine as well,
a custom job by Jeffrey for the bedroom,
Big Mac alone in the Presidents room
with the classics and Lightning.
Change was not an alternative...
but the options of choice.
Obama is a fraud of his own propaganda.
"He believes his own lies," laughing and leaving.
Sunday in Hollywood, lunch and dinner
with the President and the Jokesters,
ten grand a plate and no photo...
another seven grand for a mug shot,
raising billions for four more years
of decimation and destruction,
the activist organizer of CHAOS
educated by black commies in Chicago,
"Who the fuck would have thought,"
in the minds of supporters now not.
The afternoon opera from Havana in both rooms,
cats fed and contented, a cooling breeze
in the fabulous florida keys...
Tony's chilli simmering in the galley
above Love Lane Alley,
"Ain't life fucking great!"
"Not everyone lives on fifty dollars a week",
roared the upstairs painter on his way
to an exhibit of his work
at the 'Smoking Tuna'...
The downstairs painter was relaxing
with his rich visiting sister
at the elitist hotel...
then dining at 'Royal Palm Island'.
The oldman hadn't even got a rant on.
"Benefits are not entitlements",growl the Aarps,
distressed with freeloading funding
to sustain the national shortfall
while diminishing their investments
in a future no longer golden.
A Canadian bond returns 7.5% interest,
a US TBond zipshit...
"But 'it' is the world reserve currency!"
"Trust your broker and ask him about
Cede and Company!"
Rick Scott is drug testing the Florida freeloaders.
Bank of America looks good at six bucks.
Above the Horn.
Beyond the Reef.
Home on the Hill.
DOGS 10913 7875 1624 2993. Libor 15. Vix 36.
Greetings from the Hill.
Another beautiful day in paradise,
the oldman testing out the crippled bones,
six weeks away from the blog...
"And 'it's' still the same old shit,
Obama grins and lies, Congress sighs,
Dimon and Blankfein conspire and con
while every day jobs are gone..."
growls the madone.
Baseball playoffs and cool nights,
a summer without hurricanes...
"Hey, oldfuck, summer in the Keys
lasts until Thanksgiving,"
sweeping the floors opening doors,
letting the breeze flow,
sunday housekeeping, gardening and garbage,
keeping the oldman occupied.
One wonders if the masses wonder anymore,
the gentrification of the media by Comcast,
barking tits on CNBC and FOX,
entertainment the drooling commercials
between bossy cunt heroines
playing cops, agents and lawyers...
"Hey, no wonder whitey has given up,
he only wanted TV and a couch!"
Every week the income falls as debt increases,
the Joker 'growing the economy' with Obamashit,
creating the illusion of a great future
for those who have climbed the mountain
and seen the promised land
with three 'D' glasses...
"When did this concept of entitlement consume
all classes of the masses white and black,
living on foodstamps and unemployment,
too gutless to fight back...
resigned to failure too tired to argue,
sunset dreams now morning nightmares
of empty pockets without chumpchange,
fools who couldn't save a dime
or pay a bill on time,"
wearied the oldman as the church bells rang
and GOD was late for work.
Thirty years of living off debt,
one might say an attitude begun with Ronnie,
enrichment programs and wealth enhancement,
the beginnings of euphemisms for financial scams,
"The model works fine at two percent growth,
four percent unemployment,
one percent foreclosure,"
persuaded the wisemen of the Federal Reserve,
advising of course the primary agents of crime,
while serving the insurance industry.
"Well, there must have been an agenda by some group,
certainly a concept of globalization could not
have been marketed without product or brand,
the international financing and laws
arranged by politicians and jurists,"
puffed Alger visiting with his artwork,
more magic from his new computer.
The oldman was on a new machine as well,
a custom job by Jeffrey for the bedroom,
Big Mac alone in the Presidents room
with the classics and Lightning.
Change was not an alternative...
but the options of choice.
Obama is a fraud of his own propaganda.
"He believes his own lies," laughing and leaving.
Sunday in Hollywood, lunch and dinner
with the President and the Jokesters,
ten grand a plate and no photo...
another seven grand for a mug shot,
raising billions for four more years
of decimation and destruction,
the activist organizer of CHAOS
educated by black commies in Chicago,
"Who the fuck would have thought,"
in the minds of supporters now not.
The afternoon opera from Havana in both rooms,
cats fed and contented, a cooling breeze
in the fabulous florida keys...
Tony's chilli simmering in the galley
above Love Lane Alley,
"Ain't life fucking great!"
"Not everyone lives on fifty dollars a week",
roared the upstairs painter on his way
to an exhibit of his work
at the 'Smoking Tuna'...
The downstairs painter was relaxing
with his rich visiting sister
at the elitist hotel...
then dining at 'Royal Palm Island'.
The oldman hadn't even got a rant on.
"Benefits are not entitlements",growl the Aarps,
distressed with freeloading funding
to sustain the national shortfall
while diminishing their investments
in a future no longer golden.
A Canadian bond returns 7.5% interest,
a US TBond zipshit...
"But 'it' is the world reserve currency!"
"Trust your broker and ask him about
Cede and Company!"
Rick Scott is drug testing the Florida freeloaders.
Bank of America looks good at six bucks.
Above the Horn.
Beyond the Reef.
Home on the Hill.
Monday, August 15, 2011
Turmoil, Volatility and Back!
0700/2000 82/92 Blue Skies SW10/15 75%H.
DOGS 11482 8787 1766 3971.Libor 15. Vix 32.
Greetings from the Hill.
Another beautiful day in paradise,
the oldman crippled again ....
recovering from a broken neck,
blackened eye, broken nose,
multiple bruises and abrasions
defending the home
from the unwanted.
Pain that will not go away.
"Kind of like the lingering incompetence
of the Joker and his Gang of Assholes,"
growls the madone disgusted with the Clown
who plays at being someone he isn't,
an actor no longer convincing his audience
with his words of 'the great nation's growth',
markets falling with each speech,
incompetence eroding any 'hope' or 'change,
eyes darting and lying, never direct...
"Collapsing to the TV audience
and pandering to the Facebook Fools",
adds the oldman.
Typing was very painful...the collarbone fractured.
Two weeks away from the Blog watching
the Fiasco in Washington of intimidation again,
threatening the masses over Debt Management,
no mention of a 2011 budget not passed,
no amount of the new Debt Ceiling...
"Just Obama Bullshit!"
London burning and looting in disgust,
riots beginning throughout Europe
as governments attempt austerity measures
directed to the working classes
and entitlement programs.
La Pierre returned and back on the streets
working on his Nightscapes,
capturing the little people of the dark
and the scenes of Key West night life.
"Where the fuck do these people come from,
two hundred a night for a bed,
two hundred a day for food and booze,
plus stupid souvenirs,"
scratching his ass...
three grand a week,
what he was making for a painting.
Some people learned to succeed in a recession,
finding the right market in the right place,
"Location, Location, Location!"
Of course, on the continent things were strange,
the suspected plot to collapse the Euro
by bankrupting banks seemed on course,
engineered by whom was of question...
the usual suspects were doing the usual things,
designing the financial products
that protected nations through risk management,
"Hofuckingho....sounds like old Mayer Rothschild
scamming the french and english",
laughed the oldman amused at the play
to force governments to make concessions
to the creators of DEBT.
The Agents of Chaos.
And how ironic that the Nato Nations
are bleeding out in the Little War,
that the Joker calls not 'a war',
suckering the american fools into
financing democracy and capitalism
and freedom for all...
"Yeah, freedom to pipe oil
for the Chosen Ones like Exxon,
BP, Shell, refineries and tankers,
even one named for Condy Rice,
bitch of bitches", growled the madone
who hated the oil whore.
So much done in the name of protection,
keeping a nation independent not dependent
on another nation's product...
simply acquire that nation
or maintain a military base
and manage the infrastructure.
"Great idea...got Ten Trillion Dollars,
Iraq, Afghanistan now Libya...
dumb stupid warmongers of the Pentagon,
braindead Think Tanks, CIA, CFR,
gnomes with drones,
nerds with listening devices in turds",
ranted the oldman in eight o'clock pain.
"Who the fuck does this son
of a white mother from Kansas
and a very black father from Kenya
think he really is....
a Muslim in disguise
or a psychopath who always lies!"
The conscious and intelligent manipulation
of the organized habits and opinions
of the masses is an important element
in democratic society....
Those who manipulate this unseen mechanism
of society constitute an invisible government
which is the true ruling power
of our country...
we are governed, our minds molded,
our tastes formed, our ideas suggested,
largely by men we have never heard of.
Edward Bernays...1928...'Propaganda'.
Nephew of Sigmund Freud.
The Ultimate Revolution with which
we are now faced is probably this...
a process in which a whole series of techniques
enabling the ruling oligarchy to get people
to actually love their servitude.
Aldous Huxley....1962.
Fifty years later and who remembers those days,
when the first hits of acid appeared,
Camelot ended with asassinations,
war went on and on and on,
the circus show for public consumption began...
"Invent two lies and keep the public busy
debating which of them is TRUE!"
Inculcating Ignorance.
A long time coming.
"Well, 'it' just got faster with FACEBOOK,
the Idiots Guide for communication,
pathetic losers needing recognition
in sentences without phrases!"
Dunces donating their privacy
to government and business
to be led on the leash
of brainwashing,
taking selection out of choice...
"Hot fucking damn,
a Republican or Democrat!"
Ron Paul and Donald Trump.
Thunder and lightning,
a breeze from the west,
perhaps some rain.
Above the Horn.
Inside the Reef.
Home on the Hill.
DOGS 11482 8787 1766 3971.Libor 15. Vix 32.
Greetings from the Hill.
Another beautiful day in paradise,
the oldman crippled again ....
recovering from a broken neck,
blackened eye, broken nose,
multiple bruises and abrasions
defending the home
from the unwanted.
Pain that will not go away.
"Kind of like the lingering incompetence
of the Joker and his Gang of Assholes,"
growls the madone disgusted with the Clown
who plays at being someone he isn't,
an actor no longer convincing his audience
with his words of 'the great nation's growth',
markets falling with each speech,
incompetence eroding any 'hope' or 'change,
eyes darting and lying, never direct...
"Collapsing to the TV audience
and pandering to the Facebook Fools",
adds the oldman.
Typing was very painful...the collarbone fractured.
Two weeks away from the Blog watching
the Fiasco in Washington of intimidation again,
threatening the masses over Debt Management,
no mention of a 2011 budget not passed,
no amount of the new Debt Ceiling...
"Just Obama Bullshit!"
London burning and looting in disgust,
riots beginning throughout Europe
as governments attempt austerity measures
directed to the working classes
and entitlement programs.
La Pierre returned and back on the streets
working on his Nightscapes,
capturing the little people of the dark
and the scenes of Key West night life.
"Where the fuck do these people come from,
two hundred a night for a bed,
two hundred a day for food and booze,
plus stupid souvenirs,"
scratching his ass...
three grand a week,
what he was making for a painting.
Some people learned to succeed in a recession,
finding the right market in the right place,
"Location, Location, Location!"
Of course, on the continent things were strange,
the suspected plot to collapse the Euro
by bankrupting banks seemed on course,
engineered by whom was of question...
the usual suspects were doing the usual things,
designing the financial products
that protected nations through risk management,
"Hofuckingho....sounds like old Mayer Rothschild
scamming the french and english",
laughed the oldman amused at the play
to force governments to make concessions
to the creators of DEBT.
The Agents of Chaos.
And how ironic that the Nato Nations
are bleeding out in the Little War,
that the Joker calls not 'a war',
suckering the american fools into
financing democracy and capitalism
and freedom for all...
"Yeah, freedom to pipe oil
for the Chosen Ones like Exxon,
BP, Shell, refineries and tankers,
even one named for Condy Rice,
bitch of bitches", growled the madone
who hated the oil whore.
So much done in the name of protection,
keeping a nation independent not dependent
on another nation's product...
simply acquire that nation
or maintain a military base
and manage the infrastructure.
"Great idea...got Ten Trillion Dollars,
Iraq, Afghanistan now Libya...
dumb stupid warmongers of the Pentagon,
braindead Think Tanks, CIA, CFR,
gnomes with drones,
nerds with listening devices in turds",
ranted the oldman in eight o'clock pain.
"Who the fuck does this son
of a white mother from Kansas
and a very black father from Kenya
think he really is....
a Muslim in disguise
or a psychopath who always lies!"
The conscious and intelligent manipulation
of the organized habits and opinions
of the masses is an important element
in democratic society....
Those who manipulate this unseen mechanism
of society constitute an invisible government
which is the true ruling power
of our country...
we are governed, our minds molded,
our tastes formed, our ideas suggested,
largely by men we have never heard of.
Edward Bernays...1928...'Propaganda'.
Nephew of Sigmund Freud.
The Ultimate Revolution with which
we are now faced is probably this...
a process in which a whole series of techniques
enabling the ruling oligarchy to get people
to actually love their servitude.
Aldous Huxley....1962.
Fifty years later and who remembers those days,
when the first hits of acid appeared,
Camelot ended with asassinations,
war went on and on and on,
the circus show for public consumption began...
"Invent two lies and keep the public busy
debating which of them is TRUE!"
Inculcating Ignorance.
A long time coming.
"Well, 'it' just got faster with FACEBOOK,
the Idiots Guide for communication,
pathetic losers needing recognition
in sentences without phrases!"
Dunces donating their privacy
to government and business
to be led on the leash
of brainwashing,
taking selection out of choice...
"Hot fucking damn,
a Republican or Democrat!"
Ron Paul and Donald Trump.
Thunder and lightning,
a breeze from the west,
perhaps some rain.
Above the Horn.
Inside the Reef.
Home on the Hill.
Monday, July 25, 2011
"The Roof is caving in on 'The Debt Ceiling'....!"
0651/2020 84/91 Blue Skies SE/10 70%H.
DOGS 12632 9998 1616 40.43. Libor 12. Vix 20.
Greetings from the Hill.
Warm, very warm, getting hot...
ninety one degrees at noon inside,
classics and a fan in the corner
blowing hot air..."Like Obama!"
"Hey, he speaks for the 'people',
Congress votes on the 'Debt Ceiling'
and whether to go to 'war'..."
mocks the madone.
The Man from the Pentagon, the new one,
talking shit to the troops pretending
he is not another limp wristed school teacher...
"The reason you 'guys' are here is because
we got attacked and...3000 innocent civilians
got killed by Al Qaeda...blah fucking blah.."
pledging 70,000 troops until 2014 enjoying
the benefits of uniformed life
while paid foreign mercenaries
do their duty.
The Butthead Wop talks like Obama
and the silly cunts playing at news,
"Guys, guys, guys and cutie dolls
talking in media tongue that hopes
to reach mass market stupidity,
reducing communication
to the lowest common denominator,
exactly like education,"
growls the oldman
with another toothache.
"Are you ready to see the outside world?",
laughs the painter ready to voyage
to the world of air conditioned shopping
and the reality of inflation,
bargains and pricing as deceitful
as banksters from Wall Street...
"Double the price and offer one free!"
Living on fifty dollars a week one watched
the bargains and used coupons to save,
building a hurricane inventory.
"Of course, beer was off balance sheet!"
The oldman had forgot his cane again,
seeming to negotiate the aisles quite well
following full tits and a nice ass...
despite the diets a few existed
"In your fantasy, oldman.."
laughed the gawker, dreaming too.
Certain items have skyrocketed
exploiting the sot brained pet lovers...
"Piss fuckingoff...seventeen dollars
for a bag of catfood two pounds less,"
startling the woman he was oogling.
A commodities game with chicken and beef,
premium cuts at luxury prices,
the commoner can have hamburger and hot dogs
with potato salad for three dollars a pound.
"How many pounds to fill a poor man's gut?"
Fill 'it' with water first...salty water!
A sun shower and steamy parking lot...
"Ain't Paradise Great!"
The oldman was too old to worry of the future,
concerns for the needy and the greedy,
the pursuers and persuaders
pretending a tomorrow.
"Life is a trunk full of groceries
and a home to drive to..."
comfortable in the A/C.
The same irritating voices between commercials
"Well thanks Guys for being STUPID,"
the bitch infers to bald headed ties,
hello hello to the casting department,
the oldman loved to hate CNBC.
This was to be 'The Day' of Reckoning,
the Joker had cried Wolf too often,
his mask was melting...Batman was near.
"Where did 'The Money' go, in a cave...
or simply disappear as an accounting entry,
Trillions and Trillions mismanaged
by minions directed to the 'Authorized Agents',
the fiat keepers of the impoverished weepers,
dumbfucking believers of God and Trust,"
growls the oldman pissed with LIES,
Clinton left a DEBT after eight years,
he fudged the books, stole from SSI...
increased the DEBT by 1.6 Trillion,
IDIOT George went to WAR and kissed ass
to the banksters and corporapists,
leaving Fuckface a 10.6 Trillion Dollar Debt,
this Peace Prize Pretender has warred
this nation into financial impasse...
4 Trillion dollars in DEBT in TWO YEARS,
my, my, and where are his advisers now,
"Rats on another sinking ship!"
"He is only one man doing the best he can."
"If that ain't some can of womanizing worm pate."
"A good joke makes one laugh
at the truth of the Line
delivered by a LIAR!"
A Two Block Walkabout and the classics
are getting true love attention...
long term homeowners
putting fish in the swimming pool,
million dollar dreams at half price.
living well within one's means.
Hiring master carpenters
for a year or so.
A different approach to growth.
A sensible approach to change.
Approaching a new landing.
Really, get a grip when you're getting 'it' in the ass!
'OBUNGHOLE AIRLINES!"
So the shit goes on for another week,
the leaders of the 'TROUBLED LEAGUE'
conferred in China discussing balance of payments
and a joint central bank and clearing house,
DEBIT cards cleared through VISA
keeps living within one's means
and DEBT at thirty per cent.
Today the guiding minds of city government
mull over a thirty million dollar budget,
the city manager favors dredging the harbor,
the Mayor wants a new City Hall,
the commissioners urge a 'state of the art dump',
the locals have gone 'north'...
"Maybe, after the Hurricane...wait and see...when school is back."
"What a view from the HOB penthouse creating a standard
for the future when 300 students who pass through
twelve years of wasted time seek greatness,
20,000 dollars a year per dummy...
keeps them out of the house!"
"What if the team is good
and the coach is a loser...
voted in by the audience
before leading."
Something has to CHANGE!
"Who the fuck are these sweet talkers,
queens talking like men,
playing money smart,"
growled the oldman watching Channel 77.
Above the Horn.
Inside the Reef.
Alone at Home.
DOGS 12632 9998 1616 40.43. Libor 12. Vix 20.
Greetings from the Hill.
Warm, very warm, getting hot...
ninety one degrees at noon inside,
classics and a fan in the corner
blowing hot air..."Like Obama!"
"Hey, he speaks for the 'people',
Congress votes on the 'Debt Ceiling'
and whether to go to 'war'..."
mocks the madone.
The Man from the Pentagon, the new one,
talking shit to the troops pretending
he is not another limp wristed school teacher...
"The reason you 'guys' are here is because
we got attacked and...3000 innocent civilians
got killed by Al Qaeda...blah fucking blah.."
pledging 70,000 troops until 2014 enjoying
the benefits of uniformed life
while paid foreign mercenaries
do their duty.
The Butthead Wop talks like Obama
and the silly cunts playing at news,
"Guys, guys, guys and cutie dolls
talking in media tongue that hopes
to reach mass market stupidity,
reducing communication
to the lowest common denominator,
exactly like education,"
growls the oldman
with another toothache.
"Are you ready to see the outside world?",
laughs the painter ready to voyage
to the world of air conditioned shopping
and the reality of inflation,
bargains and pricing as deceitful
as banksters from Wall Street...
"Double the price and offer one free!"
Living on fifty dollars a week one watched
the bargains and used coupons to save,
building a hurricane inventory.
"Of course, beer was off balance sheet!"
The oldman had forgot his cane again,
seeming to negotiate the aisles quite well
following full tits and a nice ass...
despite the diets a few existed
"In your fantasy, oldman.."
laughed the gawker, dreaming too.
Certain items have skyrocketed
exploiting the sot brained pet lovers...
"Piss fuckingoff...seventeen dollars
for a bag of catfood two pounds less,"
startling the woman he was oogling.
A commodities game with chicken and beef,
premium cuts at luxury prices,
the commoner can have hamburger and hot dogs
with potato salad for three dollars a pound.
"How many pounds to fill a poor man's gut?"
Fill 'it' with water first...salty water!
A sun shower and steamy parking lot...
"Ain't Paradise Great!"
The oldman was too old to worry of the future,
concerns for the needy and the greedy,
the pursuers and persuaders
pretending a tomorrow.
"Life is a trunk full of groceries
and a home to drive to..."
comfortable in the A/C.
The same irritating voices between commercials
"Well thanks Guys for being STUPID,"
the bitch infers to bald headed ties,
hello hello to the casting department,
the oldman loved to hate CNBC.
This was to be 'The Day' of Reckoning,
the Joker had cried Wolf too often,
his mask was melting...Batman was near.
"Where did 'The Money' go, in a cave...
or simply disappear as an accounting entry,
Trillions and Trillions mismanaged
by minions directed to the 'Authorized Agents',
the fiat keepers of the impoverished weepers,
dumbfucking believers of God and Trust,"
growls the oldman pissed with LIES,
Clinton left a DEBT after eight years,
he fudged the books, stole from SSI...
increased the DEBT by 1.6 Trillion,
IDIOT George went to WAR and kissed ass
to the banksters and corporapists,
leaving Fuckface a 10.6 Trillion Dollar Debt,
this Peace Prize Pretender has warred
this nation into financial impasse...
4 Trillion dollars in DEBT in TWO YEARS,
my, my, and where are his advisers now,
"Rats on another sinking ship!"
"He is only one man doing the best he can."
"If that ain't some can of womanizing worm pate."
"A good joke makes one laugh
at the truth of the Line
delivered by a LIAR!"
A Two Block Walkabout and the classics
are getting true love attention...
long term homeowners
putting fish in the swimming pool,
million dollar dreams at half price.
living well within one's means.
Hiring master carpenters
for a year or so.
A different approach to growth.
A sensible approach to change.
Approaching a new landing.
Really, get a grip when you're getting 'it' in the ass!
'OBUNGHOLE AIRLINES!"
So the shit goes on for another week,
the leaders of the 'TROUBLED LEAGUE'
conferred in China discussing balance of payments
and a joint central bank and clearing house,
DEBIT cards cleared through VISA
keeps living within one's means
and DEBT at thirty per cent.
Today the guiding minds of city government
mull over a thirty million dollar budget,
the city manager favors dredging the harbor,
the Mayor wants a new City Hall,
the commissioners urge a 'state of the art dump',
the locals have gone 'north'...
"Maybe, after the Hurricane...wait and see...when school is back."
"What a view from the HOB penthouse creating a standard
for the future when 300 students who pass through
twelve years of wasted time seek greatness,
20,000 dollars a year per dummy...
keeps them out of the house!"
"What if the team is good
and the coach is a loser...
voted in by the audience
before leading."
Something has to CHANGE!
"Who the fuck are these sweet talkers,
queens talking like men,
playing money smart,"
growled the oldman watching Channel 77.
Above the Horn.
Inside the Reef.
Alone at Home.
Monday, July 18, 2011
Little White House Memories!
0649/2017 82/90 Blue Skies and Thunder SE 10/15 80%H.
DOGS 12385 9602 1606 40.20. Libor 13. Vix 20.
Greetings from the Hill.
Dark dark black ominous clouds,
thundering on all sides of the island,
the oldman without a camera
on his return from Faustos
with four pounds of beer...
he drank forty pounds last week
but gained only five,
"And that from the 'Chili Delight',"
laughed the madone getting fatter.
A departure from gross out photos
and the indiscretions of lust and power,
wondering perhaps if the past has links
to the road traveled or considered,
great leaders finding something special
on this small island paradise
that allows the essence of the inner soul
to genuflect upon matters beyond the self
and relate to the higher orders
of duty, country and God.
Transcending the puerile ambitions
of power, prominence and prestige
to pursue benevolence and kindness
with the hard eye of TRUTH.
"Hofuckingho...Not with this JOKER,"
snorted no fan.
Sometimes the heart acts against convention,
the blossom of love blooming
from a strange stem needing to grow
in a garden where all is accepted...
where nothing is unusual,
merely variations on nature's
peculiarities.
"Good women often have gay husbands,"
said that jew detective on 'Law and Order',
he raped Charles Bronson's daughter
and should have stayed a FLY.
George Sr. had a funny way himself...
but Prescott was said to shame him.
Family secrets run deep.
"Fantastic, absolutely fantastic,"
he beamed and belched at the same time,
now Billyboy could eat all day,
have a nap and eat all night,
Key West was gourmet cooking to him,
locals loved him and tourists
suspected he was an 'actor'.
Of course the entourage seemed intimidating,
but most all were drunk by sunset,
those watching and wondering
still developed film.
"Key West is a leap into the past,
'Like Impeachment'...," sneering
when leaving.
The oldman wondered about those missiles,
paraded along Smathers Beach
set to shoot down the Russian missiles
aimed towards Washington...
sort of looked like the Libyans
defending against NATO...
only assbackwards,
most peculiar..Castro is still here,
eighty miles away.
"And WHO killed Kennedy...
Alger claims 'it' was one of 'THEM'."
Another fucked up American family.
The General warned the people he saved,
but prosperity had a way of eliminating
bad memories and hard times...
eating grits and rubbery conch,
fishing for a living,
no dirt to grow an orchid,
the Korean War was over
and Key West was a Naval Base.
"Where the fuck are the submarines?"
"One day the eye in the sky will see all
and record the happenings for the record,"
said Lenny Bruce before ending 'it'.
Harry really didn't give a shit...
he'd lost the family farm
but his daughter had a piano
and wrote novels...
got to talk on TV.
He hated fishing.
He certainly wasn't going to rot
on some pissant island writing memoirs,
maybe get a degree from Oxford,
piss off the Democrats
and play Paderewski in the 'East Room'
for Jackie and Jack,
enjoying life with Bess
in Independence.
Of course across the Atlantic sin pervades
as morality replicates America,
time delay in the deception
with the enhancement of communication,
Cable, Internet and Facebook,
weapons of the aggregaters,
spectators of their own stupidity
with fame in their brain,
imagining what isn't
in the mirror.
Shadow banking, secret accounts,
all opaque and determined to be fake,
by the keepers of accounts
and watchers of records.
One World...pretending All.
"Oh, shit in the grass, not 'THEM' again,
the world is a stage and we are but
poor actors performing in the theatre
of the absurdly stupidones,
smartones acting dumbones....."
coughed the oldman laughing
in his sunset pints
and his clever way with words...
like madone.
Bank of America is on a slide
shorted by guess fucking who,
down down we go on a ride
and the SEC won't sue.
"Do you think Obama has done this
with malice and forethought,"
wonders the Mason Master,
once a George Bush Ranger,
not yet foreclosed
in Homestead.
Above the Horn.
Inside the Reef.
Content on the Hill.
DOGS 12385 9602 1606 40.20. Libor 13. Vix 20.
Greetings from the Hill.
Dark dark black ominous clouds,
thundering on all sides of the island,
the oldman without a camera
on his return from Faustos
with four pounds of beer...
he drank forty pounds last week
but gained only five,
"And that from the 'Chili Delight',"
laughed the madone getting fatter.
A departure from gross out photos
and the indiscretions of lust and power,
wondering perhaps if the past has links
to the road traveled or considered,
great leaders finding something special
on this small island paradise
that allows the essence of the inner soul
to genuflect upon matters beyond the self
and relate to the higher orders
of duty, country and God.
Transcending the puerile ambitions
of power, prominence and prestige
to pursue benevolence and kindness
with the hard eye of TRUTH.
"Hofuckingho...Not with this JOKER,"
snorted no fan.
Sometimes the heart acts against convention,
the blossom of love blooming
from a strange stem needing to grow
in a garden where all is accepted...
where nothing is unusual,
merely variations on nature's
peculiarities.
"Good women often have gay husbands,"
said that jew detective on 'Law and Order',
he raped Charles Bronson's daughter
and should have stayed a FLY.
George Sr. had a funny way himself...
but Prescott was said to shame him.
Family secrets run deep.
"Fantastic, absolutely fantastic,"
he beamed and belched at the same time,
now Billyboy could eat all day,
have a nap and eat all night,
Key West was gourmet cooking to him,
locals loved him and tourists
suspected he was an 'actor'.
Of course the entourage seemed intimidating,
but most all were drunk by sunset,
those watching and wondering
still developed film.
"Key West is a leap into the past,
'Like Impeachment'...," sneering
when leaving.
The oldman wondered about those missiles,
paraded along Smathers Beach
set to shoot down the Russian missiles
aimed towards Washington...
sort of looked like the Libyans
defending against NATO...
only assbackwards,
most peculiar..Castro is still here,
eighty miles away.
"And WHO killed Kennedy...
Alger claims 'it' was one of 'THEM'."
Another fucked up American family.
The General warned the people he saved,
but prosperity had a way of eliminating
bad memories and hard times...
eating grits and rubbery conch,
fishing for a living,
no dirt to grow an orchid,
the Korean War was over
and Key West was a Naval Base.
"Where the fuck are the submarines?"
"One day the eye in the sky will see all
and record the happenings for the record,"
said Lenny Bruce before ending 'it'.
Harry really didn't give a shit...
he'd lost the family farm
but his daughter had a piano
and wrote novels...
got to talk on TV.
He hated fishing.
He certainly wasn't going to rot
on some pissant island writing memoirs,
maybe get a degree from Oxford,
piss off the Democrats
and play Paderewski in the 'East Room'
for Jackie and Jack,
enjoying life with Bess
in Independence.
Of course across the Atlantic sin pervades
as morality replicates America,
time delay in the deception
with the enhancement of communication,
Cable, Internet and Facebook,
weapons of the aggregaters,
spectators of their own stupidity
with fame in their brain,
imagining what isn't
in the mirror.
Shadow banking, secret accounts,
all opaque and determined to be fake,
by the keepers of accounts
and watchers of records.
One World...pretending All.
"Oh, shit in the grass, not 'THEM' again,
the world is a stage and we are but
poor actors performing in the theatre
of the absurdly stupidones,
smartones acting dumbones....."
coughed the oldman laughing
in his sunset pints
and his clever way with words...
like madone.
Bank of America is on a slide
shorted by guess fucking who,
down down we go on a ride
and the SEC won't sue.
"Do you think Obama has done this
with malice and forethought,"
wonders the Mason Master,
once a George Bush Ranger,
not yet foreclosed
in Homestead.
Above the Horn.
Inside the Reef.
Content on the Hill.
Thursday, July 14, 2011
"Raise the Debt...and Lease a Jet!"
0647/2022 82/90 Blue Skies SE5/10 65%H.
DOGS 12530 9871 1590 39.19. Libor 12. Vix 20.
Greetings from the Hill.
Another beautiful blue sky day,
a five mile morning bicycle ride
to enjoy a solitary sunrise
with a cafe con leche.
Watching poor saps hastening to work,
punching in on time for a lousy dime
leftover after paying debt...
missing life in paradise.
Reading more lately with an overhead light,
perhaps another computer for studies in bed,
necessary tools when studying 'The Deceit of Debt',
a sequel to 'The Fall of the Rising Class',
intriguing interface in monetary conspiracy
and control by the Suprapowers and White Wizards
who keep the masses toiling without hope,
removing the last vestiges of dignity...
"A man must have his Independence",
but not in Obamaland where spooks run the show,
a worm like Frank Wisner with a history
of State Department to Boardroom...
from Enron to AIG, Egypt to Lybia,
master spy who holds the secrets of Sarkozy,
henchman for the Greenberg family crimes,
the invisible arm of the CIA
guiding the blindmen of the CFR.
The Queen is disappointed and distressed,
a lifetime of decency rewarded by foolishness,
in truth, she loved Diana and was proud..
"Yes, yes , her teacup would rattle with joy
in the company of the little buggers...
but her retarded son who was spellbound
by that ugly old woman...senseless, serves him right,
she will not have her in 'the palace',"
the madone followed the tabloids from London,
he had been stationed there during the war,
flying Spitfire missions for the RCAF,
received the King George Medal of Honour
and loved his daughter from afar.
She was of the opinion that the G20 first ladies
should boycott the meeting in Rome
to shame the immoral leader of Italy.
And then that little hussy Kate would parade her ass
to the Internet world of peepers and perverts,
the men of the House of Windsor act dotty...
"Bloody Stupid," raged the madone,
"A Smart One playing Dumb", watering the oregano
and cat's bowl on the balcony.
"Yeah..and how many horny limeys
beat off to that at night."
Maybe fuckhead could persuade Granny Queen
to mortgage her jewelry to acquire California,
the mexicans hate fish and chips...
start again like in Florida.
"Hey, Prince Philip is a Greek...
she could buy the pissy little place
and make her husband a King."
All very amusing but real life is a battle
of the diplomatic invisible phones
connected to the Colorado Drones,
all bets hedged with temptation
and the seducers of man's debasing lust,
those beauties who hold man's dream
in their soft sensitive hands
control the choices deep within the minds
of the members of 'The G20'...
"While you are watching the Watchers,
who is spying on the spies...maybe 'Hakluyt',
or 'Kroll', perhaps 'Marsh and McLennan',
'Ogara', Avram Shalom, the ghost of Israel Corp.
Shaul Eisenberg, ZIM....or PERMINDEX,
does the Mossad monitor Eagleberger, Bremer,
Peterson, Schwartsman and Fink...the forty directors
of the CFR..thirty who are jewish and keep Greenberg King,
Hillary doesn't seem up to par
and her cunt is sideways",
snorted the madone,
ready for a noon day stroll.
Alger thinks that THEY are already doing 'it',
but refuses to identify THEM...
the oldman considers the ILLUMINATI
disguised as tourists on mopeds
with cellphones and WiWi hats...
The very old man in the backyard
says 'it's' drugs and diet...
poisoned beef and chicken creating cancer,
genetically modified produce sourcing stupidity,
high fructose corn syrup giving diabetes
then Ritalin, Prozac, Viagra, Lipitor, Lunesta
Altrazine keeping zombies alive
for Big Pharma.
He spent his younger days riding horses
in the French Foreign Legion,
he wouldn't talk about 'his medal',
but he had that nude picture
of Carla on the Gazebo wall.
"She needs to grow her tits,"
mocking Obamatalk...
he despised the pathetic part man.
"A bull of a man who takes what he wants,
now brought to his knees,"
mock the french press.
A good man with a family on Facebook.
MAD JACK SAYS....FACEBOOK SUCKS!
"A stream of simpering stupidity....
a river of braindead rafters
paddling for attention,
a current of aggregated poop
phisched by the MASTERS of HIDDEN PERSUASION."
"Follow Obama to the Sea of Dead Fish or..
Learn to Think not think to earn!"
Brilliant blue skies, swaying palm trees,
mirrored tin roofs in the overhead sun,
idiots across the hall on CNBC,
classics from Havana clear in the corners,
the oldman belched from the sausage...
"Life is fucking great."
Maybe in Paradise...
but not 'up there'.
The President is giving a speech,
time to get a new writer, can the turdnerd,
send him on his way to blame,
of course is 'this' simply blaming
the messenger who tells the tale
of dying towns, abandoned farms,
homeless families...
"What the fuck happened...
Billy Clinton left us in good shape
4.2 Trillion revenue...7 Trillion DEBT."
The story goes that reduced taxes
caused revenue to fall to 3.6 Trillion
in three years plus the costs
of chasing Obama and a war.
"Worry not, worry not, the scam begins,
4 Trillion in 2004, 4.6 in 2006,
indeed, indeed your home is an ATM machine,
4.8 Trillion revenue...12 Trillion DEBT
in 2007, the year of household millionaires,
....what the fuck happened?"
"Kill Obama...End the Wars."
Change, Hope and the saving Grace.
3.4 Trillion revenue in 2009...14 Trillion DEBT.
Interest rates 0% for the chosen few global bankers
who speculate far far offshore.
Morons who allow their pensions gambled
in the Casino's of disappearing chips
and pixilating dice with fair accounting,
skimming the froth first of course...
as Goldman does with numbers
Google does with words...
filtering and aggregating,
little stones in little piles
and same size same color,
Nancy Grace puts color in your face
promoting a murder case...
hosts to hold the attention
for six minutes...before visiting
the refrigerator and consuming
the advertised products.
The Internet was said to start something,
certainly a form of shopping,
but far from intellectualizing...
that fucking Facebook reduces a paragraph,
then from sentence to phrase...
then merely a grunt,
passing mental wind.
Saving America is simple...
LIVE BENEATH YOUR MEANS.
All the shit you think you need
is engineered fantasy to make you think
that you are someone special,
look in the mirrors you fat fucks,
you will never be that model,
another engineered model
of economic salesmanship.
Imagine a great nation with a leader
who plays with rubber ducks
in his bubble bath
and claims to be a killer,
sissies get married.
Above the Horn.
Inside the Reef
High on the Hill.
DOGS 12530 9871 1590 39.19. Libor 12. Vix 20.
Greetings from the Hill.
Another beautiful blue sky day,
a five mile morning bicycle ride
to enjoy a solitary sunrise
with a cafe con leche.
Watching poor saps hastening to work,
punching in on time for a lousy dime
leftover after paying debt...
missing life in paradise.
Reading more lately with an overhead light,
perhaps another computer for studies in bed,
necessary tools when studying 'The Deceit of Debt',
a sequel to 'The Fall of the Rising Class',
intriguing interface in monetary conspiracy
and control by the Suprapowers and White Wizards
who keep the masses toiling without hope,
removing the last vestiges of dignity...
"A man must have his Independence",
but not in Obamaland where spooks run the show,
a worm like Frank Wisner with a history
of State Department to Boardroom...
from Enron to AIG, Egypt to Lybia,
master spy who holds the secrets of Sarkozy,
henchman for the Greenberg family crimes,
the invisible arm of the CIA
guiding the blindmen of the CFR.
The Queen is disappointed and distressed,
a lifetime of decency rewarded by foolishness,
in truth, she loved Diana and was proud..
"Yes, yes , her teacup would rattle with joy
in the company of the little buggers...
but her retarded son who was spellbound
by that ugly old woman...senseless, serves him right,
she will not have her in 'the palace',"
the madone followed the tabloids from London,
he had been stationed there during the war,
flying Spitfire missions for the RCAF,
received the King George Medal of Honour
and loved his daughter from afar.
She was of the opinion that the G20 first ladies
should boycott the meeting in Rome
to shame the immoral leader of Italy.
And then that little hussy Kate would parade her ass
to the Internet world of peepers and perverts,
the men of the House of Windsor act dotty...
"Bloody Stupid," raged the madone,
"A Smart One playing Dumb", watering the oregano
and cat's bowl on the balcony.
"Yeah..and how many horny limeys
beat off to that at night."
Maybe fuckhead could persuade Granny Queen
to mortgage her jewelry to acquire California,
the mexicans hate fish and chips...
start again like in Florida.
"Hey, Prince Philip is a Greek...
she could buy the pissy little place
and make her husband a King."
All very amusing but real life is a battle
of the diplomatic invisible phones
connected to the Colorado Drones,
all bets hedged with temptation
and the seducers of man's debasing lust,
those beauties who hold man's dream
in their soft sensitive hands
control the choices deep within the minds
of the members of 'The G20'...
"While you are watching the Watchers,
who is spying on the spies...maybe 'Hakluyt',
or 'Kroll', perhaps 'Marsh and McLennan',
'Ogara', Avram Shalom, the ghost of Israel Corp.
Shaul Eisenberg, ZIM....or PERMINDEX,
does the Mossad monitor Eagleberger, Bremer,
Peterson, Schwartsman and Fink...the forty directors
of the CFR..thirty who are jewish and keep Greenberg King,
Hillary doesn't seem up to par
and her cunt is sideways",
snorted the madone,
ready for a noon day stroll.
Alger thinks that THEY are already doing 'it',
but refuses to identify THEM...
the oldman considers the ILLUMINATI
disguised as tourists on mopeds
with cellphones and WiWi hats...
The very old man in the backyard
says 'it's' drugs and diet...
poisoned beef and chicken creating cancer,
genetically modified produce sourcing stupidity,
high fructose corn syrup giving diabetes
then Ritalin, Prozac, Viagra, Lipitor, Lunesta
Altrazine keeping zombies alive
for Big Pharma.
He spent his younger days riding horses
in the French Foreign Legion,
he wouldn't talk about 'his medal',
but he had that nude picture
of Carla on the Gazebo wall.
"She needs to grow her tits,"
mocking Obamatalk...
he despised the pathetic part man.
"A bull of a man who takes what he wants,
now brought to his knees,"
mock the french press.
A good man with a family on Facebook.
MAD JACK SAYS....FACEBOOK SUCKS!
"A stream of simpering stupidity....
a river of braindead rafters
paddling for attention,
a current of aggregated poop
phisched by the MASTERS of HIDDEN PERSUASION."
"Follow Obama to the Sea of Dead Fish or..
Learn to Think not think to earn!"
Brilliant blue skies, swaying palm trees,
mirrored tin roofs in the overhead sun,
idiots across the hall on CNBC,
classics from Havana clear in the corners,
the oldman belched from the sausage...
"Life is fucking great."
Maybe in Paradise...
but not 'up there'.
The President is giving a speech,
time to get a new writer, can the turdnerd,
send him on his way to blame,
of course is 'this' simply blaming
the messenger who tells the tale
of dying towns, abandoned farms,
homeless families...
"What the fuck happened...
Billy Clinton left us in good shape
4.2 Trillion revenue...7 Trillion DEBT."
The story goes that reduced taxes
caused revenue to fall to 3.6 Trillion
in three years plus the costs
of chasing Obama and a war.
"Worry not, worry not, the scam begins,
4 Trillion in 2004, 4.6 in 2006,
indeed, indeed your home is an ATM machine,
4.8 Trillion revenue...12 Trillion DEBT
in 2007, the year of household millionaires,
....what the fuck happened?"
"Kill Obama...End the Wars."
Change, Hope and the saving Grace.
3.4 Trillion revenue in 2009...14 Trillion DEBT.
Interest rates 0% for the chosen few global bankers
who speculate far far offshore.
Morons who allow their pensions gambled
in the Casino's of disappearing chips
and pixilating dice with fair accounting,
skimming the froth first of course...
as Goldman does with numbers
Google does with words...
filtering and aggregating,
little stones in little piles
and same size same color,
Nancy Grace puts color in your face
promoting a murder case...
hosts to hold the attention
for six minutes...before visiting
the refrigerator and consuming
the advertised products.
The Internet was said to start something,
certainly a form of shopping,
but far from intellectualizing...
that fucking Facebook reduces a paragraph,
then from sentence to phrase...
then merely a grunt,
passing mental wind.
Saving America is simple...
LIVE BENEATH YOUR MEANS.
All the shit you think you need
is engineered fantasy to make you think
that you are someone special,
look in the mirrors you fat fucks,
you will never be that model,
another engineered model
of economic salesmanship.
Imagine a great nation with a leader
who plays with rubber ducks
in his bubble bath
and claims to be a killer,
sissies get married.
Above the Horn.
Inside the Reef
High on the Hill.
Sunday, July 3, 2011
"Thirty-Six Key West '4TH of JULY's'....!"
0641/2019 82/90 Cloudy E5/10 75%H.
DOGS 12582 9494 1486 3385. Libor 15 Vix 19.
Greetings from the Hill.
Another gorgeous day in paradise,
blue skies and a light breeze,
classics from Havana crackling,
black clouds on the horizons
thundering and threatening...
afternoon downpours.
Up early again walking without a cane,
protection from mushing the brain,
learning to reinvent oneself.
"Well, the flag looks beautiful at night
with the porch back light," enthuses Susan
recently returned to her writer's hideaway
and the Key West way of life...
room to be alone and funds to survive,
no compromising with halfwit roomers,
guests who have to be forced to leave
or their airfare paid one way.
Living alone is a treasure to behold,
the pure pleasure of life without fools,
those braindead creatures who want company,
or manipulaters wanting assets...
too dumb to be original of thought,
not an original idea in a lifetime...
"Yeah...kind of like Obama!"
The oldman was reading french again,
he sounded like a comedian speaking,
but loved to read the language,
his great granny was a La Chapelle,
who owned thousands of acres in Quebec...
"Deux ou trois choses vues d'amerique,"
the lady spied from Washington on her blog,
a dream to be the first lady of France
while studfucker followed his hardon
wasting the Rosenberg fortune accumulated
as agent for Matisse and Picasso.
"Little Anne Schwartz was painted by Picasso...
'Mother and Daughter',Anne Sinclair was 7/7,
the most powerful sunday night show in France,
a lawyer from the University of Paris,
pretty good for a jewish girl from New York.
Her daughter is mortiphied and was born in Paris,
spermdripper would not follow Leon Blum...
and a nice german jewish name like Strauss.
Families, governments and soon corporations
seem to be falling into holes opened by question,
what was accepted as trusted behavior is not...
agreements are no longer valid in courts,
the courts repudiate the law
and create a new rule of law,
"Who the fuck are the Courts,
a collection of senile old fuckers
shuffling about hallways in the Hague,
conniving crap for NATO
and the same old 'Oil Club'
to steal Libyan sweet crude,"
growls the madone on a rant,
"Or those buckfuckingsucking
cunt lawyers in every top Lobbyist
Vulture Firm who specialize
in financial derivatives
and 'the new regulation'
that will make opaque no longer fake
and bring transparency
to the MarketPlace...
hohofuckingho!"
Couples in Washington are conventional.
Gay Divorce will be big business in New York.
Barry's hair is turning white, 'it' must be
the White House water!
Maybe life is returning to normal,
a mother hen and babies on Love Lane,
roosters awakening empty houses,
not foreclosed, simply closed
for the summer by the northerners
who prefer life their way.
But he wondered of the tyranny of wives
those keepers of the balls
of defeated men and semen,
"Keep the seminal vesicle free",
laughed Gore Vidal ironically,
a homosexual monogamist
who loved young men from a distance
of a blowjob...."Not intercourse."
But you can't get pregnant in your asshole.
The oldman watched television at night,
no sound to disturb the quietude
of open windows in the dark of three,
hillarious ads for pecker enhancement
by stupid cunts with flacid mates...
"Watched only, no sound, a silent film
produced by the secret persuaders
of television corporate commercials,
the spooks who make the economy grow
with their tell and show,"
and guess what black actor
is the King of Voice Over.
Little one second images tranched
into pools of one minute persuasions,
"Little pictures cluttering up the mind,
subconscious coercion of the consumer,
those little piggies that still shop
and still have a home,"
grumbled the oldman getting thirsty.
His cousin Terry was complaining about age,
he couldn't drink a case of beer
and play hockey at night...
and he 'got heart pains' when he walked,
gardening was for sissies,
he always rode a cart
and still shot in the eighties,
he was a somatatic visceral...
some are the way they are.
The oldman was on a new diet...
he gained ten pounds last month,
walked a mile a day, with a cane
and weighed 120 pounds...
"There is always Hope!"
The problems in China are increasing,
great hopes to escalate the peasants
into urban condominiums is slowing
as the rush to middleclass stalls...
husbands have turned to drugs and drink,
sitting at home emulating americans
demanding 'the good life'...
with Chinese Voice Over,
horror of horrors,
WHO could that be.
A Chinaman bought 'that' Picasso last month
for 106 Million US dollars, of course,
'they' have lots of 'that'.
Must piss off Schwartzy, considering 'Guess Who'
stole all the works from Grampa Rosenberg,
pissed off Picasso too!
"Tres dommage!"
Tough times reach home and Duval Street,
properties that were bought for five grand
with Federal Urban Development loans,
amassing vast rental income
and multimilliondollar equity
over three decades are in peril...
Swifty Ed Swift seems over leveraged
for a paltry 12 Million dollars,
chump change for Historic Tours,
the Steam Plant Condominiums
and his sleezy house collection
as well as an affordable housing empire
for his underpaid employees.
Very strange....he must have found God...
most of the joints are bars...
or could there be a conspiracy?
Most likely a woman wanting 'out',
look at the Dodgers...
divorce sucks in a Recession
and is a 'bumfuck' in a depression.
Sometimes 'it's' cheaper all alone.
Above the Horn.
Beyond the Reef.
Home Alone!
DOGS 12582 9494 1486 3385. Libor 15 Vix 19.
Greetings from the Hill.
Another gorgeous day in paradise,
blue skies and a light breeze,
classics from Havana crackling,
black clouds on the horizons
thundering and threatening...
afternoon downpours.
Up early again walking without a cane,
protection from mushing the brain,
learning to reinvent oneself.
"Well, the flag looks beautiful at night
with the porch back light," enthuses Susan
recently returned to her writer's hideaway
and the Key West way of life...
room to be alone and funds to survive,
no compromising with halfwit roomers,
guests who have to be forced to leave
or their airfare paid one way.
Living alone is a treasure to behold,
the pure pleasure of life without fools,
those braindead creatures who want company,
or manipulaters wanting assets...
too dumb to be original of thought,
not an original idea in a lifetime...
"Yeah...kind of like Obama!"
The oldman was reading french again,
he sounded like a comedian speaking,
but loved to read the language,
his great granny was a La Chapelle,
who owned thousands of acres in Quebec...
"Deux ou trois choses vues d'amerique,"
the lady spied from Washington on her blog,
a dream to be the first lady of France
while studfucker followed his hardon
wasting the Rosenberg fortune accumulated
as agent for Matisse and Picasso.
"Little Anne Schwartz was painted by Picasso...
'Mother and Daughter',Anne Sinclair was 7/7,
the most powerful sunday night show in France,
a lawyer from the University of Paris,
pretty good for a jewish girl from New York.
Her daughter is mortiphied and was born in Paris,
spermdripper would not follow Leon Blum...
and a nice german jewish name like Strauss.
Families, governments and soon corporations
seem to be falling into holes opened by question,
what was accepted as trusted behavior is not...
agreements are no longer valid in courts,
the courts repudiate the law
and create a new rule of law,
"Who the fuck are the Courts,
a collection of senile old fuckers
shuffling about hallways in the Hague,
conniving crap for NATO
and the same old 'Oil Club'
to steal Libyan sweet crude,"
growls the madone on a rant,
"Or those buckfuckingsucking
cunt lawyers in every top Lobbyist
Vulture Firm who specialize
in financial derivatives
and 'the new regulation'
that will make opaque no longer fake
and bring transparency
to the MarketPlace...
hohofuckingho!"
Couples in Washington are conventional.
Gay Divorce will be big business in New York.
Barry's hair is turning white, 'it' must be
the White House water!
Maybe life is returning to normal,
a mother hen and babies on Love Lane,
roosters awakening empty houses,
not foreclosed, simply closed
for the summer by the northerners
who prefer life their way.
But he wondered of the tyranny of wives
those keepers of the balls
of defeated men and semen,
"Keep the seminal vesicle free",
laughed Gore Vidal ironically,
a homosexual monogamist
who loved young men from a distance
of a blowjob...."Not intercourse."
But you can't get pregnant in your asshole.
The oldman watched television at night,
no sound to disturb the quietude
of open windows in the dark of three,
hillarious ads for pecker enhancement
by stupid cunts with flacid mates...
"Watched only, no sound, a silent film
produced by the secret persuaders
of television corporate commercials,
the spooks who make the economy grow
with their tell and show,"
and guess what black actor
is the King of Voice Over.
Little one second images tranched
into pools of one minute persuasions,
"Little pictures cluttering up the mind,
subconscious coercion of the consumer,
those little piggies that still shop
and still have a home,"
grumbled the oldman getting thirsty.
His cousin Terry was complaining about age,
he couldn't drink a case of beer
and play hockey at night...
and he 'got heart pains' when he walked,
gardening was for sissies,
he always rode a cart
and still shot in the eighties,
he was a somatatic visceral...
some are the way they are.
The oldman was on a new diet...
he gained ten pounds last month,
walked a mile a day, with a cane
and weighed 120 pounds...
"There is always Hope!"
The problems in China are increasing,
great hopes to escalate the peasants
into urban condominiums is slowing
as the rush to middleclass stalls...
husbands have turned to drugs and drink,
sitting at home emulating americans
demanding 'the good life'...
with Chinese Voice Over,
horror of horrors,
WHO could that be.
A Chinaman bought 'that' Picasso last month
for 106 Million US dollars, of course,
'they' have lots of 'that'.
Must piss off Schwartzy, considering 'Guess Who'
stole all the works from Grampa Rosenberg,
pissed off Picasso too!
"Tres dommage!"
Tough times reach home and Duval Street,
properties that were bought for five grand
with Federal Urban Development loans,
amassing vast rental income
and multimilliondollar equity
over three decades are in peril...
Swifty Ed Swift seems over leveraged
for a paltry 12 Million dollars,
chump change for Historic Tours,
the Steam Plant Condominiums
and his sleezy house collection
as well as an affordable housing empire
for his underpaid employees.
Very strange....he must have found God...
most of the joints are bars...
or could there be a conspiracy?
Most likely a woman wanting 'out',
look at the Dodgers...
divorce sucks in a Recession
and is a 'bumfuck' in a depression.
Sometimes 'it's' cheaper all alone.
Above the Horn.
Beyond the Reef.
Home Alone!
Tuesday, June 28, 2011
"Who watches the Watchers!"
0640/2020 78/90 Grey Skies E5/10 85%H.
DOGS 12170,9172,1501,33.85 Libor 16 Vix 19.
Greetings from the Hill.
A pleasant sunrise ride off the Rock,
enjoying what life could be if not cripple,
"Or old and drunk at sunset,"
laughs the madone in the back seat
consuming the view...
hardly a change in three decades,
the developers failed to capture
all the waterfronts for condos
or cementing the delicate mangroves
for boat slips.
Across the hall, Cramer fucks with a dress,
another of the Limey Brigade on CNBC,
poor old Uncle Sam, nothing to cheer about,
even young Rory, the Irish superstar,
keeps the US Open 'over there'
for the second year...and 'they' are fucked.
"The bomb counters are billing Nato for Libya,
but cannot keep track of trucks in Afghanistan
or the contract guards at the Iraq embassy,
of course the CIA budget is secret and...
all that other stuff highly classified,
hofuckingho and Panetta takes charge
and who takes all the cash..."
growls the madone accepting the way
the game is now in play
and civilians like soldiers
have nothing to say.
The oldman remembered visiting his aunt
who lived at Watergate when life was great,
and Ike was just elected, then eight years later
warned a nation of a military industrial complex.
"Too Big to Fail...thinks the Joker,
this leader without experience or manhood,
grinning like a pedophile movie star,
waving to adoring fans in his mind,
an asinine tooth paste commercial
of a nerd bounding onto the stage
to give an acceptance speech,"
snorted the oldman at such chicanery
yet unable to discover the handlers
or uncover the real advisers.
Of course he still didn't understand derivatives,
had forgotten most of his latin...
"Quis custodiet ipsos custodes."
and never had a chinese girl friend.
"Too late to Fail...an interesting concept!"
Imagine going to bed with the largest
debts in the whole wide world,
and every morning trying to find
enough to pay the juice,
then coffee and toast on the table,
hope there's gas in the car
and the insurance is paid.
Well, Timmy doesn't worry about the small shit,
he's got a job and speaks mandarin.
"Guess who talks to him,"
but 3.6 Trillion going out
and 2.4 Trillion coming in
is serious financial mismanagement...
Bush wasn't such a fuckup failure,
could Obama be such a dumbass
or have an agenda for collapse...
delay and stall until you fall!
Tourism is a marvelous industry,
eat, drink, shit and sleep...
see the sites without fights
until the natives lose their rights,
then look behind you...
"Cause Walker won't be there!"
"Oh, oh, the Invasion in Libya has stalled,
the war in Afghanistan is a retreat
'to build roads at home'...
the occupation of Iraq is too costly,
delegated to privateers who 'bill' the enemy,
lies and schemes, all american dreams
to promote democratic capitalism,"
mocks the madone...
nothing unusual about the methods,
overpower cavemen with missiles...
Osama and his cavemen used american handhelds
to defeat the russian army...
Obama and his drones killed american donkeys...
"Stand up and salute!"
One hundred thousand troops, their backups, and privateers
couldn't defeat a few motley Taliban,
ten years and trillions of dollars,
wounded minds and bodies without homecare,
many now without homes for what...
"Fucking Politicians....
My Country..It is for Me!"
"What the fuck is next..."
Ron Paul and Barney Frank
smoking pot...
in the Women's Washroom
with Michelle in the White House.
The oldman hadn't smoked in three weeks,
the wacky weed that made life silly
and not concerned about economics,
perhaps some time in the gazebo
might improve the attitude.
Hard to imagine that the 'Odd Couple'
are attempting to legislate
Marijuana Reform...
Free those saps busted for pot,
reduce the prison population...
of course convicts get no benefits,
no food stamps, no schooling,
tough shit, but you get a cellphone.
"Obama Law...listening to Watchers!"
"This is a grey world of the multi trillion
dollar world of the CDS market...
a default, a credit event triggering payouts,
'it'is decided by the ISDA, the governing body
that designs CDS contracts for the 'Market',"
now the spokesperson for this horseshit
moonlights as speechwriter for 'The Joker',
dipfuck can't understand this obfuscation.
"A CDS agreement is nothing more
than a betting slip after the race!"
"Corrupt governments have been hijacked
by an international banking cartel
that has the world by it's credit balls."
"My oh my, the ISDA has final say on credit event,
Fitch giving a pitch on spreads and basis points,
collateral pledges, rolling interest guarantees,
value recovery rights made up by WHO,
....The Determinations Committee....
ten, fourteen, twenty banks in the Club,
kiss your ass goodbye, Mister One World Guy,"
laughs the oldman ready for a coldone.
Enough is enough of the pursuit of deceit.
Time to visit my favorite recorder of life,
the Watcher of the Keys.
Above the Horn,
Inside the Reef,
At home on the Hill.
DOGS 12170,9172,1501,33.85 Libor 16 Vix 19.
Greetings from the Hill.
A pleasant sunrise ride off the Rock,
enjoying what life could be if not cripple,
"Or old and drunk at sunset,"
laughs the madone in the back seat
consuming the view...
hardly a change in three decades,
the developers failed to capture
all the waterfronts for condos
or cementing the delicate mangroves
for boat slips.
Across the hall, Cramer fucks with a dress,
another of the Limey Brigade on CNBC,
poor old Uncle Sam, nothing to cheer about,
even young Rory, the Irish superstar,
keeps the US Open 'over there'
for the second year...and 'they' are fucked.
"The bomb counters are billing Nato for Libya,
but cannot keep track of trucks in Afghanistan
or the contract guards at the Iraq embassy,
of course the CIA budget is secret and...
all that other stuff highly classified,
hofuckingho and Panetta takes charge
and who takes all the cash..."
growls the madone accepting the way
the game is now in play
and civilians like soldiers
have nothing to say.
The oldman remembered visiting his aunt
who lived at Watergate when life was great,
and Ike was just elected, then eight years later
warned a nation of a military industrial complex.
"Too Big to Fail...thinks the Joker,
this leader without experience or manhood,
grinning like a pedophile movie star,
waving to adoring fans in his mind,
an asinine tooth paste commercial
of a nerd bounding onto the stage
to give an acceptance speech,"
snorted the oldman at such chicanery
yet unable to discover the handlers
or uncover the real advisers.
Of course he still didn't understand derivatives,
had forgotten most of his latin...
"Quis custodiet ipsos custodes."
and never had a chinese girl friend.
"Too late to Fail...an interesting concept!"
Imagine going to bed with the largest
debts in the whole wide world,
and every morning trying to find
enough to pay the juice,
then coffee and toast on the table,
hope there's gas in the car
and the insurance is paid.
Well, Timmy doesn't worry about the small shit,
he's got a job and speaks mandarin.
"Guess who talks to him,"
but 3.6 Trillion going out
and 2.4 Trillion coming in
is serious financial mismanagement...
Bush wasn't such a fuckup failure,
could Obama be such a dumbass
or have an agenda for collapse...
delay and stall until you fall!
Tourism is a marvelous industry,
eat, drink, shit and sleep...
see the sites without fights
until the natives lose their rights,
then look behind you...
"Cause Walker won't be there!"
"Oh, oh, the Invasion in Libya has stalled,
the war in Afghanistan is a retreat
'to build roads at home'...
the occupation of Iraq is too costly,
delegated to privateers who 'bill' the enemy,
lies and schemes, all american dreams
to promote democratic capitalism,"
mocks the madone...
nothing unusual about the methods,
overpower cavemen with missiles...
Osama and his cavemen used american handhelds
to defeat the russian army...
Obama and his drones killed american donkeys...
"Stand up and salute!"
One hundred thousand troops, their backups, and privateers
couldn't defeat a few motley Taliban,
ten years and trillions of dollars,
wounded minds and bodies without homecare,
many now without homes for what...
"Fucking Politicians....
My Country..It is for Me!"
"What the fuck is next..."
Ron Paul and Barney Frank
smoking pot...
in the Women's Washroom
with Michelle in the White House.
The oldman hadn't smoked in three weeks,
the wacky weed that made life silly
and not concerned about economics,
perhaps some time in the gazebo
might improve the attitude.
Hard to imagine that the 'Odd Couple'
are attempting to legislate
Marijuana Reform...
Free those saps busted for pot,
reduce the prison population...
of course convicts get no benefits,
no food stamps, no schooling,
tough shit, but you get a cellphone.
"Obama Law...listening to Watchers!"
"This is a grey world of the multi trillion
dollar world of the CDS market...
a default, a credit event triggering payouts,
'it'is decided by the ISDA, the governing body
that designs CDS contracts for the 'Market',"
now the spokesperson for this horseshit
moonlights as speechwriter for 'The Joker',
dipfuck can't understand this obfuscation.
"A CDS agreement is nothing more
than a betting slip after the race!"
"Corrupt governments have been hijacked
by an international banking cartel
that has the world by it's credit balls."
"My oh my, the ISDA has final say on credit event,
Fitch giving a pitch on spreads and basis points,
collateral pledges, rolling interest guarantees,
value recovery rights made up by WHO,
....The Determinations Committee....
ten, fourteen, twenty banks in the Club,
kiss your ass goodbye, Mister One World Guy,"
laughs the oldman ready for a coldone.
Enough is enough of the pursuit of deceit.
Time to visit my favorite recorder of life,
the Watcher of the Keys.
Above the Horn,
Inside the Reef,
At home on the Hill.
Saturday, June 18, 2011
And the Summer is just Beginning!
0638/2017 81/91 Blue Skies E10/20 75%H.
DOGS 1271 93 1541 35.90. Libor 14. Vix 15.
Greetings from the Hill.
Beautiful, breezy and hot,
the oldman was walking every day,
taking care of chores at home
without any outside help.
Clean windows, shiny floors and classics,
cats fed and gardens watered...
"Regardless of the drought!"
The media does a job on Arnold
who looked after his indiscretion,
the wife claiming ignorance
being financially independent
until the divorce settlement.
Amazing what might happen if these minds
who can discover and uncover
the peculiarities of wayward behavior
were commissioned by the SEC
to ferret out the indiscretions of financiers,
or horror of horrors be hired by the wives
of Corporapists, Banksters and Hedgehogs...
"Hey, now that could be a series for Bravo,
rather than the insipid queer loving crap
oozing from their mindless producers!"
Imagine the conversations between Hillary and Huma,
jetting about the world attempting to solve
the dilemmas created by outlaws of central banking,
then fantasizing solutions to balance a world
where credit is debt and assets liabilities,
a language invented by mathematicians on acid
and a nutty old fuck with a hardon for Ayn Rand...
"Just say you made a mistake...I could have been wrong!"
Of course 'it' only works for Greenspan and Bernanke.
The pathetic wimp was crying on 'Sixty Minutes'...
so much for pushing Obama under the bus!
WILD is the curse of the nation and the cunts
are headquartered in Chicago, Whores for Jarrett...
Women In Listed Derivatives...
"Does The Joker really know?"
"How come the bitches are all Jewish,"
wonders the madone folding the laundry
dried on the balcony
in a tropical breeze.
Men are stupid...women are smart...
imagine speaking chinese.
Clint Eastwood and Leon Panetta are from Carmel.
A soothing state of mind for Killers.
The first thing in the morning the President
gets a package from the CIA...
and this moron plays dumb,
everything that is known is available,
of course 'it' is also on Google,
any idiot can do the math
unless 'it' is languaged by MIT
then encrypted by Julian Assange
and interpreted by Jeff Beck.
"Who elected this 'Asshole'?"
Of course Texas has the constitutional right
to create three states...hello hello...
a Two Trillion Dollar Economy without Debt.
"Ain't that something...wouldn't Lyndon be proud!"
Probably kill the Thugs in Mexico
and control the distribution of drugs...
make George Sr. Ambassador to the UN again
and let the dummy look for oil...
"That Rick Perry has 'the right stuff',
no screwballs on his mound,"laughed the painter
after a hot afternoon on Duval Street,
heading to Faustos before closing.
"Hello, Hello, Rory...a record three rounds!"
Golf in the gardener's room.
Lightning on the balcony railing.
Viola watching the oldman beside Big Mac.
Dusk in the President's Room.
Life far from the maddening crowd.
"The stupid motherfuckering morons
plan to eliminate the Sunday Blue Law,
eliminating the only civility left
in this money whoring shithole,
tomorrow may be the last sunday
keeping the drunks sober until noon,
eggsucking pisslicking buckfuckers...
grasping for the last coin to fill
their corrupt criminal accounts
before God strikes 'them' dead,"
rants the oldman fired up
on four pints.
In this last sperm drop of the Keys,
the pecker of Florida,
'they' are Asshole Republicans...
perusing Conch Color one sees
through Tommy's eyes
the sinister mob of Nouveau Riche
grovelling for appointments,
suckassing to a nutcase Governor,
losers grasping to government,
the final paycheck.
Mendacity, the lies from family,
fat stupid children trained to be dumb,
actors mimicking television commercials,
girls talking like nasal drips,
boys pulling their peckers,
Obama's World with a free cellphone
to monitor your dumbass...
"Believe in Half White Horseshit
and a Muslim who speaks five tongues
and Momma was in the CIA.."
the oldman wondered when the drug
was ingested into the school lunch
by the fat old ladies
who mixed the macaroni.
Perhaps there was hope if the girls
went Mormon and followed Marie Osmond,
"I lost fifty pounds on 'Fuckfast',
look at me now," fat chance and no fructose,
the oldman wondered about 'the obese,
those Gold Bond users of brushing thighs
and overheated assholes...
was Medicare there.
The Elite couldn't care nor give a share,
tax deductible events for the select few
that send a stand in, a walkabout, a beard,
a functional representative of the upper class
who no longer live in vulgarity with illegals...
"Emerging Market Mansions in Hong Kong
with a view of the harbor,"
offered some silly bitch
on CNBC.
Maybe Stanley has a secret, the Central Bank of Israel...
spies and nuclear bombs help, a global nation,
one world family...hard to beat..
long track record.
"Face facts...USA is not Today!"
But times pass by those watching television.
Above the Horn.
Beyond the Reef.
Home on the Hill.
DOGS 1271 93 1541 35.90. Libor 14. Vix 15.
Greetings from the Hill.
Beautiful, breezy and hot,
the oldman was walking every day,
taking care of chores at home
without any outside help.
Clean windows, shiny floors and classics,
cats fed and gardens watered...
"Regardless of the drought!"
The media does a job on Arnold
who looked after his indiscretion,
the wife claiming ignorance
being financially independent
until the divorce settlement.
Amazing what might happen if these minds
who can discover and uncover
the peculiarities of wayward behavior
were commissioned by the SEC
to ferret out the indiscretions of financiers,
or horror of horrors be hired by the wives
of Corporapists, Banksters and Hedgehogs...
"Hey, now that could be a series for Bravo,
rather than the insipid queer loving crap
oozing from their mindless producers!"
Imagine the conversations between Hillary and Huma,
jetting about the world attempting to solve
the dilemmas created by outlaws of central banking,
then fantasizing solutions to balance a world
where credit is debt and assets liabilities,
a language invented by mathematicians on acid
and a nutty old fuck with a hardon for Ayn Rand...
"Just say you made a mistake...I could have been wrong!"
Of course 'it' only works for Greenspan and Bernanke.
The pathetic wimp was crying on 'Sixty Minutes'...
so much for pushing Obama under the bus!
WILD is the curse of the nation and the cunts
are headquartered in Chicago, Whores for Jarrett...
Women In Listed Derivatives...
"Does The Joker really know?"
"How come the bitches are all Jewish,"
wonders the madone folding the laundry
dried on the balcony
in a tropical breeze.
Men are stupid...women are smart...
imagine speaking chinese.
Clint Eastwood and Leon Panetta are from Carmel.
A soothing state of mind for Killers.
The first thing in the morning the President
gets a package from the CIA...
and this moron plays dumb,
everything that is known is available,
of course 'it' is also on Google,
any idiot can do the math
unless 'it' is languaged by MIT
then encrypted by Julian Assange
and interpreted by Jeff Beck.
"Who elected this 'Asshole'?"
Of course Texas has the constitutional right
to create three states...hello hello...
a Two Trillion Dollar Economy without Debt.
"Ain't that something...wouldn't Lyndon be proud!"
Probably kill the Thugs in Mexico
and control the distribution of drugs...
make George Sr. Ambassador to the UN again
and let the dummy look for oil...
"That Rick Perry has 'the right stuff',
no screwballs on his mound,"laughed the painter
after a hot afternoon on Duval Street,
heading to Faustos before closing.
"Hello, Hello, Rory...a record three rounds!"
Golf in the gardener's room.
Lightning on the balcony railing.
Viola watching the oldman beside Big Mac.
Dusk in the President's Room.
Life far from the maddening crowd.
"The stupid motherfuckering morons
plan to eliminate the Sunday Blue Law,
eliminating the only civility left
in this money whoring shithole,
tomorrow may be the last sunday
keeping the drunks sober until noon,
eggsucking pisslicking buckfuckers...
grasping for the last coin to fill
their corrupt criminal accounts
before God strikes 'them' dead,"
rants the oldman fired up
on four pints.
In this last sperm drop of the Keys,
the pecker of Florida,
'they' are Asshole Republicans...
perusing Conch Color one sees
through Tommy's eyes
the sinister mob of Nouveau Riche
grovelling for appointments,
suckassing to a nutcase Governor,
losers grasping to government,
the final paycheck.
Mendacity, the lies from family,
fat stupid children trained to be dumb,
actors mimicking television commercials,
girls talking like nasal drips,
boys pulling their peckers,
Obama's World with a free cellphone
to monitor your dumbass...
"Believe in Half White Horseshit
and a Muslim who speaks five tongues
and Momma was in the CIA.."
the oldman wondered when the drug
was ingested into the school lunch
by the fat old ladies
who mixed the macaroni.
Perhaps there was hope if the girls
went Mormon and followed Marie Osmond,
"I lost fifty pounds on 'Fuckfast',
look at me now," fat chance and no fructose,
the oldman wondered about 'the obese,
those Gold Bond users of brushing thighs
and overheated assholes...
was Medicare there.
The Elite couldn't care nor give a share,
tax deductible events for the select few
that send a stand in, a walkabout, a beard,
a functional representative of the upper class
who no longer live in vulgarity with illegals...
"Emerging Market Mansions in Hong Kong
with a view of the harbor,"
offered some silly bitch
on CNBC.
Maybe Stanley has a secret, the Central Bank of Israel...
spies and nuclear bombs help, a global nation,
one world family...hard to beat..
long track record.
"Face facts...USA is not Today!"
But times pass by those watching television.
Above the Horn.
Beyond the Reef.
Home on the Hill.
Sunday, June 12, 2011
Summer Holidays...Alone Again!
0637/2015 79/88 Blue Skies NW 5/10 75%H.
DOGS 11,952 99.29 1529 36.32. Libor 13. Vix 16.
Greetings from the Hill.
Clean windows and shiny floors,
classics without television,
a fan in the corner...
cats in the President's room,
the oldman on the Big Mac.
"Command Central again", laughs Jeffery
with bread and beer for the cripple,
an early drive to Albertsons,
swiveling in the computer chair.
Some people are blessed with good spirits.
Another week without default or collapse,
as finance ministers about the globe invent
creative financing without the help of engineers,
mathematicians trained in Fedspeak...
hustlers whoring for the Hedge Hogs,
accountants painting books opaque,
lawyers inventing loopholes
"For all the fucking Cheats...
every would be taxpayer", snorts the madone,
taking the breeze far from the sleaze.
Kick the can down Maiden Lane into the alley
behind the Broad Street quarters
when a dollar was a buck...
"Before the Federal Reserve Fuck!"
Ronald Reagan's dollar is worth 44 cents!
Lyndon Johnson's buck is only 14 cents!
"Who makes this shit up?"
Some people think that corruption began
when commodity trading was a seat in Chicago
with a view from the windows
overlooking the ships and trucks
of wheat and whiskey...
the necessities of prohibition
provided by a shadow government
that operated outside 'the law'...
Imagine if a scoundrel had Obama's ear,
worse than the cunt who was head of CRTC,
another derivative bitch like Wendy Gramme...
even more wicked than Blythe Masters,
conspiring with Penny Pritzken,
a Daley whore...
head of Chicago Transit, the CSE,
then a director of the Federal Reserve,
an arranged Obama senate seat
by Blag, the idiot of all time...
said to be a billionaire
from Habitat Inc. but more likely
her real estate REITings....
"This transition represents an endorsement
of the Exchanges strategic plan to leverage
existing volume and connectivity
and to integrate a state of the art
electronic trade matching engine
in order to attract new business...
we welcome these key industry leaders
as shareholders, and are confident
they will play a significant role
in increasing shareholder value
while we continue to serve
the investing public',
hohofuckingho....
where is Lance and Markit?
Obama couldn't read that!
This bitch can cut Bernanke's balls.
Billy Daley eats her pussy.
"What kind of fag is Barry Boy?"
"What kind of city is Chicago?"
"Black Thug Gangs and a Jew Mayor!"
"Come back Al Capone!"
The oldman watched the noon news
every day at one.
A dump truck of gold is half a billion.
Albert Pike was an odd one, said to be
a Baphomet with Mazzini, Palmerston
and Von Bismarck, the Order of Perfectibility,
writer of the Illuminati ritual tome,
cofounder of the KKK after Lincoln,
his park flooded, maybe the statue will fall.
"The Federal Reserve's actions in recent years
have doubtless helped stabilized
the financial system,
easing credit and financial conditions,
guarding against deflation
and promoting economic recovery...
all of this has been accomplished, I should note,
at no net cost to the federal budget
or the US taxpayers."
Bernanke lies better than Greenspan!
What a world of silly talk.
Happy Birthday, Gemini Girls!
This pretender in the White House
is playing at another's war
soon alone behind a closed door
with no lock or key.
Above the Horn,
Beyond the Reef,
At home on the Hill.
''
DOGS 11,952 99.29 1529 36.32. Libor 13. Vix 16.
Greetings from the Hill.
Clean windows and shiny floors,
classics without television,
a fan in the corner...
cats in the President's room,
the oldman on the Big Mac.
"Command Central again", laughs Jeffery
with bread and beer for the cripple,
an early drive to Albertsons,
swiveling in the computer chair.
Some people are blessed with good spirits.
Another week without default or collapse,
as finance ministers about the globe invent
creative financing without the help of engineers,
mathematicians trained in Fedspeak...
hustlers whoring for the Hedge Hogs,
accountants painting books opaque,
lawyers inventing loopholes
"For all the fucking Cheats...
every would be taxpayer", snorts the madone,
taking the breeze far from the sleaze.
Kick the can down Maiden Lane into the alley
behind the Broad Street quarters
when a dollar was a buck...
"Before the Federal Reserve Fuck!"
Ronald Reagan's dollar is worth 44 cents!
Lyndon Johnson's buck is only 14 cents!
"Who makes this shit up?"
Some people think that corruption began
when commodity trading was a seat in Chicago
with a view from the windows
overlooking the ships and trucks
of wheat and whiskey...
the necessities of prohibition
provided by a shadow government
that operated outside 'the law'...
Imagine if a scoundrel had Obama's ear,
worse than the cunt who was head of CRTC,
another derivative bitch like Wendy Gramme...
even more wicked than Blythe Masters,
conspiring with Penny Pritzken,
a Daley whore...
head of Chicago Transit, the CSE,
then a director of the Federal Reserve,
an arranged Obama senate seat
by Blag, the idiot of all time...
said to be a billionaire
from Habitat Inc. but more likely
her real estate REITings....
"This transition represents an endorsement
of the Exchanges strategic plan to leverage
existing volume and connectivity
and to integrate a state of the art
electronic trade matching engine
in order to attract new business...
we welcome these key industry leaders
as shareholders, and are confident
they will play a significant role
in increasing shareholder value
while we continue to serve
the investing public',
hohofuckingho....
where is Lance and Markit?
Obama couldn't read that!
This bitch can cut Bernanke's balls.
Billy Daley eats her pussy.
"What kind of fag is Barry Boy?"
"What kind of city is Chicago?"
"Black Thug Gangs and a Jew Mayor!"
"Come back Al Capone!"
The oldman watched the noon news
every day at one.
A dump truck of gold is half a billion.
Albert Pike was an odd one, said to be
a Baphomet with Mazzini, Palmerston
and Von Bismarck, the Order of Perfectibility,
writer of the Illuminati ritual tome,
cofounder of the KKK after Lincoln,
his park flooded, maybe the statue will fall.
"The Federal Reserve's actions in recent years
have doubtless helped stabilized
the financial system,
easing credit and financial conditions,
guarding against deflation
and promoting economic recovery...
all of this has been accomplished, I should note,
at no net cost to the federal budget
or the US taxpayers."
Bernanke lies better than Greenspan!
What a world of silly talk.
Happy Birthday, Gemini Girls!
This pretender in the White House
is playing at another's war
soon alone behind a closed door
with no lock or key.
Above the Horn,
Beyond the Reef,
At home on the Hill.
''
Saturday, June 4, 2011
Another Hurricane Season.
0636/2012 78/88 Blue Skies E15/25 65%H.
DOGS 12151 100.6 1544 36.26. Libor 14. Vix 16.
Greetings from the Hill.
A breezy beautiful day in paradise,
classics and the Weather Channel
with a sleeping cat in the bedroom,
chili simmering in the galley...
the oldman was changing his habits.
Yesterday he walked without a cane
shopping at Albertsons for provisions
and necessary hurricane supplies...
"Just in case."
The painter had finished his 'big one'
after a year's work in Key West,
a visit to Boston for family and hockey,
then off to visit brother in Denmark
and perhaps The Canary Islands...
"The Adventures of Stephen LaPierre in Winter,"
mused the oldman realizing the fellow
was on the blog for eight months,
but then the Stanley Cup playoffs
had just begun with a shutout.
Funny seasons in Key West of course...
always off course.
Certain things seemed peculiar north and south,
one might wonder who is conniving the plot
to rape the neighbors of all assets,
Goldman had already fucked Mexico
on a currency scam with derivatives,
Wells Fargo was laundering drug money,
oil supplies are depleting fast
and drug cartels murder with abandon...
"Hope for Change!"
Homeland Security monitors the border,
the IRS inspects bank accounts
and guess who fears chinese investment
in shale oil reserves,
gold, silver and platinum,
water and electricity.
"Just another 'Little War'."
The rich are different...
'they' don't worry about spending
a few thousand a day any day,
not the cruise ship visitor
or the drivedown from Miami,
certainly not the working Conchs,
maybe the crooked politicians
planning another waterfront hotel,
pirates and schemers reduced
to sucking off the school board...
"Build a better school for dunces
with extra large toilet seats
and a penthouse
for the superintendent."
Corruption and the mockery of law,
the Joker grins with treasonous mirth,
pretending to lead the masses
while keeping them on their asses,
more lawyers in the White House
and this pair not practicing,
"Like forgetting how to ride a bike,"
bitched the madone disgusted
with the frauds,
wondering how this wimpey fake
became Leader of the Free World,
Commander in Chief of The United States,
Assassin of Osama.
A pathetic excuse for a decision maker.
"Don't blame Barry...
he's doing his best,"
support his followers
in stupidity.
Bernanke, Dudley and Geithner have a plan...
"Restoring fiscal sustainability,
safeguard financial sector stability
and boost competitiveness
for sustained growth and employment,
reducing the deficit to achieve reforms
to improve business climate for economic recovery,
downsizing public sector employment
and closing public entities...
reducing entitlements for some,
lowering tax exemptions
and raising property taxes,
as well as when necessary...
privatizing government assets,"
hello, goodbye, close the door behind you,
the scumballs are collecting monies
that government did,
parking meter change,
tollway fees
and airport charges...
all just the beginning,
"Hey, Asshole, look at a food stamp card,
JP Morgan Chase, ho fuckingho!"
Somewhere someone must have a clue
about who is using the glue
that keeps the wings from falling
from the ship of state,
a nation built on the Rule of Law,
a constitution conceived by Masons,
an empire financed by Bankers
with accountants and lawyers.
H. Rodgin Cohen is the Wizard of Wall Street.
Imagine if he wrote an honest autobiography.
"Making the Loopholes in the Laws!"
"Have a pint, oldman, this shit is a waste,
what do you think you can learn anyway...
and if you do discover the pattern,
then the assumption is a plan in action,
a 'model'....get a grip on a Guassian Coppula,
some asshole formula based on insurance risk,
'it's' all risk management,"
the chimes rang all day at twenty knots,
the painter below was happier this week
selling work every day.
The ultimate question would be
how much information Obama can process
and how cogniscient is he on current affairs,
does he understand the balance sheets
of the Treasury Department
and The Federal Reserve...
the Department of Defense
and the Invisible CIA.
Perhaps he cares not to know.
Grin and pretend.
"Hey,hey...'it' is a toothpaste ad,
Talking Tits and smiling white teeth."
Auntie Valerie took in the shrew
and trained her in city politics,
300T at the top of the payroll
as in house attorney while the wimp
practiced his jump shot...
"Maybe she's an older sister from Syria."
The Chicago connection is even stranger
if one believes the black socialist faction
of the Democratic Party and the Muslim Movement.
Black poets talking with saxophones,
strutting for a white blonde...
Sammy Davis Jr and Kim Novack,
the Korean War...
Stanley Dunham and Huissein Obama,
separate ways of thought,
a boy grows up with Granny
and masters the jump shot,
dreaming of the NBA,
now dribbles in the White House.
Momma worked for the CIA
and briefed him on the world
when back on the Big Island,
she taught him five languages,
including Mandarin...
he talks to Timmy
and fucks up the chinks.
Maybe something is going on!
The recession is being called a depression,
however such thinking is psychosomatic
to believers in happiness...
a rocking chair on a balcony,
a cold beer and fat joint,
a bowl of chili with whole wheat,
a breeze in the keys.
Knowing when to stop
and enjoy oneself.
"'It' is all in the vocabulary
and the languages, imagine if...
all the dumbass fat fucks in school
became wizards with Rosetta Stone
and spoke five languages...
"Take your pick!"
"Kicking the can down Maiden Lane,
now that's kind of funny
if a person was inclined
to the subtle humor
of Greenspania,
such a wealth of truth
within the emails
of Alan and Rog...
but horror of horrors,
the engineering was not there,"
laughed the oldman
weary of the game.
Above the Horn.
Beyond the Reef.
Waiting for the Rain.
DOGS 12151 100.6 1544 36.26. Libor 14. Vix 16.
Greetings from the Hill.
A breezy beautiful day in paradise,
classics and the Weather Channel
with a sleeping cat in the bedroom,
chili simmering in the galley...
the oldman was changing his habits.
Yesterday he walked without a cane
shopping at Albertsons for provisions
and necessary hurricane supplies...
"Just in case."
The painter had finished his 'big one'
after a year's work in Key West,
a visit to Boston for family and hockey,
then off to visit brother in Denmark
and perhaps The Canary Islands...
"The Adventures of Stephen LaPierre in Winter,"
mused the oldman realizing the fellow
was on the blog for eight months,
but then the Stanley Cup playoffs
had just begun with a shutout.
Funny seasons in Key West of course...
always off course.
Certain things seemed peculiar north and south,
one might wonder who is conniving the plot
to rape the neighbors of all assets,
Goldman had already fucked Mexico
on a currency scam with derivatives,
Wells Fargo was laundering drug money,
oil supplies are depleting fast
and drug cartels murder with abandon...
"Hope for Change!"
Homeland Security monitors the border,
the IRS inspects bank accounts
and guess who fears chinese investment
in shale oil reserves,
gold, silver and platinum,
water and electricity.
"Just another 'Little War'."
The rich are different...
'they' don't worry about spending
a few thousand a day any day,
not the cruise ship visitor
or the drivedown from Miami,
certainly not the working Conchs,
maybe the crooked politicians
planning another waterfront hotel,
pirates and schemers reduced
to sucking off the school board...
"Build a better school for dunces
with extra large toilet seats
and a penthouse
for the superintendent."
Corruption and the mockery of law,
the Joker grins with treasonous mirth,
pretending to lead the masses
while keeping them on their asses,
more lawyers in the White House
and this pair not practicing,
"Like forgetting how to ride a bike,"
bitched the madone disgusted
with the frauds,
wondering how this wimpey fake
became Leader of the Free World,
Commander in Chief of The United States,
Assassin of Osama.
A pathetic excuse for a decision maker.
"Don't blame Barry...
he's doing his best,"
support his followers
in stupidity.
Bernanke, Dudley and Geithner have a plan...
"Restoring fiscal sustainability,
safeguard financial sector stability
and boost competitiveness
for sustained growth and employment,
reducing the deficit to achieve reforms
to improve business climate for economic recovery,
downsizing public sector employment
and closing public entities...
reducing entitlements for some,
lowering tax exemptions
and raising property taxes,
as well as when necessary...
privatizing government assets,"
hello, goodbye, close the door behind you,
the scumballs are collecting monies
that government did,
parking meter change,
tollway fees
and airport charges...
all just the beginning,
"Hey, Asshole, look at a food stamp card,
JP Morgan Chase, ho fuckingho!"
Somewhere someone must have a clue
about who is using the glue
that keeps the wings from falling
from the ship of state,
a nation built on the Rule of Law,
a constitution conceived by Masons,
an empire financed by Bankers
with accountants and lawyers.
H. Rodgin Cohen is the Wizard of Wall Street.
Imagine if he wrote an honest autobiography.
"Making the Loopholes in the Laws!"
"Have a pint, oldman, this shit is a waste,
what do you think you can learn anyway...
and if you do discover the pattern,
then the assumption is a plan in action,
a 'model'....get a grip on a Guassian Coppula,
some asshole formula based on insurance risk,
'it's' all risk management,"
the chimes rang all day at twenty knots,
the painter below was happier this week
selling work every day.
The ultimate question would be
how much information Obama can process
and how cogniscient is he on current affairs,
does he understand the balance sheets
of the Treasury Department
and The Federal Reserve...
the Department of Defense
and the Invisible CIA.
Perhaps he cares not to know.
Grin and pretend.
"Hey,hey...'it' is a toothpaste ad,
Talking Tits and smiling white teeth."
Auntie Valerie took in the shrew
and trained her in city politics,
300T at the top of the payroll
as in house attorney while the wimp
practiced his jump shot...
"Maybe she's an older sister from Syria."
The Chicago connection is even stranger
if one believes the black socialist faction
of the Democratic Party and the Muslim Movement.
Black poets talking with saxophones,
strutting for a white blonde...
Sammy Davis Jr and Kim Novack,
the Korean War...
Stanley Dunham and Huissein Obama,
separate ways of thought,
a boy grows up with Granny
and masters the jump shot,
dreaming of the NBA,
now dribbles in the White House.
Momma worked for the CIA
and briefed him on the world
when back on the Big Island,
she taught him five languages,
including Mandarin...
he talks to Timmy
and fucks up the chinks.
Maybe something is going on!
The recession is being called a depression,
however such thinking is psychosomatic
to believers in happiness...
a rocking chair on a balcony,
a cold beer and fat joint,
a bowl of chili with whole wheat,
a breeze in the keys.
Knowing when to stop
and enjoy oneself.
"'It' is all in the vocabulary
and the languages, imagine if...
all the dumbass fat fucks in school
became wizards with Rosetta Stone
and spoke five languages...
"Take your pick!"
"Kicking the can down Maiden Lane,
now that's kind of funny
if a person was inclined
to the subtle humor
of Greenspania,
such a wealth of truth
within the emails
of Alan and Rog...
but horror of horrors,
the engineering was not there,"
laughed the oldman
weary of the game.
Above the Horn.
Beyond the Reef.
Waiting for the Rain.
Sunday, May 29, 2011
Two Months, 3000 Missions, 160 Missiles...in Libya.
0638/2010 80/90 Blue Skies E10/20 60%H.
DOGS 12,441 101 1537 3802. Libor 14. Vix 18.
Greetings from the Hill.
Another beautiful day in paradise,
hard to believe the shit gets worse
in that society dwelling above
Jewfish Creek...
hard choices in life
of what not to have,
learning to live with
what one has
"And saving ten per cent
for banker's capitalization..
hofuckingho," laughed the madone,
cleaning the windows.
"Something seems to be very peculiar,
that disappointing sense of deception
when trusting another's lying eyes
and soothing words, those leaders
of medicine, law and finance
who act on behalf of profit makers
through their minions in government,"
muses the oldman weary of the way.
"Fourteen Trillion,four hundred Billion,
raise the ceiling or the roof collapses,
the checks will stop with food stamps,
BP won't fuel the jets in any war,
old farts will have to wait,
deadbeat emergency wards close,
and nobody really knows
what the Joker in the White House
is talking about,"
interrupts the printer
moving things into an empty room,
attempting to resume civilized life,
hopefully for a season...
"Park the truck and ride a bike,
find someone nice to like!"
"I really don't care about 'it'
or even about 'that'..."
shrugs the painter connecting
the printer to WiWi and the world,
a house wired to the universe
and the unanswered suspicions
of the one percent elite.
"I leave the investigation of fraud,
corruption and theft to you,"
laughing on the way to Faustos.
Chimes ringing on the balcony,
curtains gusting with the wind,
classics from Havana in both rooms,
Law and Order with Big Mac...
sunday and another toothache.
"Hey, Gummy, get use to milkshakes!"
"The Joker is in Joplin lying again,
where can the money be found
to replace houses on the ground,
spent bombing Libya
and drones in Afghanistan,
protecting oil in Iraq
for the global giants
who pervert the central banking system
collateralised with toxic waste,
insured by imaginary derivatives
and guaranteed by a government in default,"
snorts the oldman sipping a pint
to ease the pain.
"Eric Schneiderman has the Big Five on fraud
under the Martin Act and reports
from Angeledes and Lewin,"
offers the printer
taking a break from snooping
about the IMF head
getting head.
"The derivatives market is dead."
Based on misinformation regarding
the IMF ECBEU bailout program stalling,
the ESFS bond for Ireland in limbo,
the speculative derivative market
facing chain collapse...
Greece, Spain, Portugal, Italy, downgraded,
the ECB trillion dollar debt
looking grim...
the Inter Alpha Gang,
RBS, Sunlander, downgraded
with the Moody Blues...
Rating Rats and 2008 again.
Twenty banks have Twenty Trillion on paper.
Four shaky ass US banks have Seven Maybe Trillion.
"How is your credit rating?"
"We can grow the economy,"
babbles the President of War Mongering,
the tool of the Pentagon,
fool of the CIA,
King of Duncedom.
Imagine if the half white pretender
had an indonesian sister,
a chinese canadian brother in law,
black african siblings,
a black american wife...
and a white granny from Kansas.
Wouldn't that be something!
And a queer commie closet case...
Something quite else.
Above the Horn.
Beyond the Reef.
Within belief.
corruption
DOGS 12,441 101 1537 3802. Libor 14. Vix 18.
Greetings from the Hill.
Another beautiful day in paradise,
hard to believe the shit gets worse
in that society dwelling above
Jewfish Creek...
hard choices in life
of what not to have,
learning to live with
what one has
"And saving ten per cent
for banker's capitalization..
hofuckingho," laughed the madone,
cleaning the windows.
"Something seems to be very peculiar,
that disappointing sense of deception
when trusting another's lying eyes
and soothing words, those leaders
of medicine, law and finance
who act on behalf of profit makers
through their minions in government,"
muses the oldman weary of the way.
"Fourteen Trillion,four hundred Billion,
raise the ceiling or the roof collapses,
the checks will stop with food stamps,
BP won't fuel the jets in any war,
old farts will have to wait,
deadbeat emergency wards close,
and nobody really knows
what the Joker in the White House
is talking about,"
interrupts the printer
moving things into an empty room,
attempting to resume civilized life,
hopefully for a season...
"Park the truck and ride a bike,
find someone nice to like!"
"I really don't care about 'it'
or even about 'that'..."
shrugs the painter connecting
the printer to WiWi and the world,
a house wired to the universe
and the unanswered suspicions
of the one percent elite.
"I leave the investigation of fraud,
corruption and theft to you,"
laughing on the way to Faustos.
Chimes ringing on the balcony,
curtains gusting with the wind,
classics from Havana in both rooms,
Law and Order with Big Mac...
sunday and another toothache.
"Hey, Gummy, get use to milkshakes!"
"The Joker is in Joplin lying again,
where can the money be found
to replace houses on the ground,
spent bombing Libya
and drones in Afghanistan,
protecting oil in Iraq
for the global giants
who pervert the central banking system
collateralised with toxic waste,
insured by imaginary derivatives
and guaranteed by a government in default,"
snorts the oldman sipping a pint
to ease the pain.
"Eric Schneiderman has the Big Five on fraud
under the Martin Act and reports
from Angeledes and Lewin,"
offers the printer
taking a break from snooping
about the IMF head
getting head.
"The derivatives market is dead."
Based on misinformation regarding
the IMF ECBEU bailout program stalling,
the ESFS bond for Ireland in limbo,
the speculative derivative market
facing chain collapse...
Greece, Spain, Portugal, Italy, downgraded,
the ECB trillion dollar debt
looking grim...
the Inter Alpha Gang,
RBS, Sunlander, downgraded
with the Moody Blues...
Rating Rats and 2008 again.
Twenty banks have Twenty Trillion on paper.
Four shaky ass US banks have Seven Maybe Trillion.
"How is your credit rating?"
"We can grow the economy,"
babbles the President of War Mongering,
the tool of the Pentagon,
fool of the CIA,
King of Duncedom.
Imagine if the half white pretender
had an indonesian sister,
a chinese canadian brother in law,
black african siblings,
a black american wife...
and a white granny from Kansas.
Wouldn't that be something!
And a queer commie closet case...
Something quite else.
Above the Horn.
Beyond the Reef.
Within belief.
corruption
Sunday, May 8, 2011
The Joker is King!
0647/1959 76/86 Blue Skies SW/10 60%H.
DOGS 12584 99 1474 34.41. Libor 14. Vix 16.
Greetings from the Hill.
Trying again after yesterday's post lost
in a power failure or machine error...
"A term for computer illiterate,
he won't read the manuals!"
Reflections on a week of oddities...
The future King marries.
The present dictator defies NATO.
The past terrorist is assassinated.
"Who gives a Fuck anymore!"
A pathetic president incapable of action
while his staff make decisions,
"More like a coup d'etat
for a coup de grace...
Barry cowered while Hillary powered,"
growled the painter,
stumbling into the hallway
quoting his night people.
"And that half black bitch from Chicago
tried to fuck up the 'kill',"
never a fan of Valerie Jarrett.
So much secrecy and lies from the 'Boss',
two brothers who traveled in their twenties,
one with Stingers from Reagan in Afghanistan,
the other holding Momma's hand in Pakistan,
a freedom fighter for CIA forces
who canceled his pension thirty years later,
circumventing the Joker on the Hill.
"In our tradition, we buried 'him' at sea!"
Dissembling has become the media expression
to avoid any confrontation with TRUTH,
obnoxious cunts flashing thighs
and talking dicks playing with their ties,
"Who writes the scripts for the whores
who flirt with the 'fatasses' from CNBC,
readers of 'Grow the Economy Club',"
wonders the oldman at noon,
disgusted with the diversion
to disguise the depression.
"When you first heard the news...
how did you feel,"oozes Fareed,
kissassing to Condoleeza on CNN,
admittedly the Indian a favorite,
a few brief minutes of nothing.
"Bedtime scary stories told by a Liar
to ruin the lives of his cherished two
to become a man in the eyes of a shrew,"
snorted the oldman not in the least amused.
"What's that retard doing in Libya?"
"Where the fuck is Phil Gramme and the bitch Wendy?"
"Hillary has a new hairstyle."
"Who is 'she' screwing?"
"Why do 'Banksters' cheat, steal and lie?"
The chimes were silent without a breeze,
a quiet sunday afternoon on the Big Mac,
the 'rainbird' irrigating the garden,
taking care of the chores...
"Talk about inflation right here,
over three dollars for milk and juice,
two dollars for a can of cat food,
Faustos ain't my family store,"
bringing supplies for the cripple.
"You know, I took Steve's advice,
chasing down these fools on Facebook,
politicians, developers, the school board,
talk about stupid boasting morons,
'connect the pictures people',
Swift, Singh, Spottswood, Acevedo, Rossi,
Walsh, Bernstein, Cortex and Blackrock,
just the beginning," chuckled the printer
torching a thin treat....
"Hey, what's happening,"
shuffling into the room,
the hangover could smell pot
a long block away.
"You know I met Mark Rossi last night,
drunk and really stupid...
and his pal, Peter Anderson,
what a pair of fat pompous Assholes,
I mean, they should be married,"
sucking down the treat,
a pig to the end.
"Is this all a little war scenario
to create the financial origination
of a new system of national banking,
denominated on a world clearing house,
currencies mean shit, indices mean all,
derivatives and arbitrage unnecessary,
government agents lose their cut,
money is just a number..."
the printer loved to imagine economics
when a little high.
He was a fan of Krugman.
Time to turn the sprinkler off.
Above the Reef.
Beyond the Horn.
A Breeze in the Keys.
DOGS 12584 99 1474 34.41. Libor 14. Vix 16.
Greetings from the Hill.
Trying again after yesterday's post lost
in a power failure or machine error...
"A term for computer illiterate,
he won't read the manuals!"
Reflections on a week of oddities...
The future King marries.
The present dictator defies NATO.
The past terrorist is assassinated.
"Who gives a Fuck anymore!"
A pathetic president incapable of action
while his staff make decisions,
"More like a coup d'etat
for a coup de grace...
Barry cowered while Hillary powered,"
growled the painter,
stumbling into the hallway
quoting his night people.
"And that half black bitch from Chicago
tried to fuck up the 'kill',"
never a fan of Valerie Jarrett.
So much secrecy and lies from the 'Boss',
two brothers who traveled in their twenties,
one with Stingers from Reagan in Afghanistan,
the other holding Momma's hand in Pakistan,
a freedom fighter for CIA forces
who canceled his pension thirty years later,
circumventing the Joker on the Hill.
"In our tradition, we buried 'him' at sea!"
Dissembling has become the media expression
to avoid any confrontation with TRUTH,
obnoxious cunts flashing thighs
and talking dicks playing with their ties,
"Who writes the scripts for the whores
who flirt with the 'fatasses' from CNBC,
readers of 'Grow the Economy Club',"
wonders the oldman at noon,
disgusted with the diversion
to disguise the depression.
"When you first heard the news...
how did you feel,"oozes Fareed,
kissassing to Condoleeza on CNN,
admittedly the Indian a favorite,
a few brief minutes of nothing.
"Bedtime scary stories told by a Liar
to ruin the lives of his cherished two
to become a man in the eyes of a shrew,"
snorted the oldman not in the least amused.
"What's that retard doing in Libya?"
"Where the fuck is Phil Gramme and the bitch Wendy?"
"Hillary has a new hairstyle."
"Who is 'she' screwing?"
"Why do 'Banksters' cheat, steal and lie?"
The chimes were silent without a breeze,
a quiet sunday afternoon on the Big Mac,
the 'rainbird' irrigating the garden,
taking care of the chores...
"Talk about inflation right here,
over three dollars for milk and juice,
two dollars for a can of cat food,
Faustos ain't my family store,"
bringing supplies for the cripple.
"You know, I took Steve's advice,
chasing down these fools on Facebook,
politicians, developers, the school board,
talk about stupid boasting morons,
'connect the pictures people',
Swift, Singh, Spottswood, Acevedo, Rossi,
Walsh, Bernstein, Cortex and Blackrock,
just the beginning," chuckled the printer
torching a thin treat....
"Hey, what's happening,"
shuffling into the room,
the hangover could smell pot
a long block away.
"You know I met Mark Rossi last night,
drunk and really stupid...
and his pal, Peter Anderson,
what a pair of fat pompous Assholes,
I mean, they should be married,"
sucking down the treat,
a pig to the end.
"Is this all a little war scenario
to create the financial origination
of a new system of national banking,
denominated on a world clearing house,
currencies mean shit, indices mean all,
derivatives and arbitrage unnecessary,
government agents lose their cut,
money is just a number..."
the printer loved to imagine economics
when a little high.
He was a fan of Krugman.
Time to turn the sprinkler off.
Above the Reef.
Beyond the Horn.
A Breeze in the Keys.
Saturday, April 30, 2011
Boom Times in the Keys!
0653/1956 76/86 Blue Skies NE10/20 75%H.
DOGS 12810 114.20 1556 48.59. Libor 14. Vix 16.
Greetings from the Hill.
Another beautiful day in paradise,
quiet streets without illegals working,
homeowners saving in the drought,
water rationing...
the oldman hosed daily
and irrigated sunday and wednesday.
"Just like in the old days!"
Adjusting to life without help.
"So all the indices are up what does that mean,"
not waiting for an answer as usual,
"Airline passengers and auto traffic
up twenty per cent on the year,
rooms seventy five per cent
and two fifty a night...
'the highest in the state',
that is conflicting information."
"That is a lot of food and booze,"
laughed the painter barging in
smelling the printer's treat.
"I'm selling the 'Green Parrot'
for two thousand dollars,"
bragging again.
The painter and the printer disagreed.
"I've been checking out the scene
in Canada in particular Toronto...
something is peculiar in reportage,"
the fellow had a funny way
of talking.
"Well, it seems the party in power
pissed away the surplus and gave
the banks billions...american banks,
then loaned GM billions for the plants
and put Toronto in debt default,"
huffing and puffing the joint,
"What do you think of that...eh!"
He never played hockey.
Steve was a goalie, a Bruin fan.
The pageant of a Royal Wedding,
the future King of Debt Kingdom,
a product of a wasted generation,
when Grannie would rock him
in Buckingham Palace
and tell him frightful stories
of the Iron Lady.
His daddy taught him riding,
the hounds and polo...
Momma showed him to smile.
He partied with the sons
of Rothschild and Gadaffy,
studied derivative financing
and flew a fighter plane.
"Sell the Bankers the Crown Jewels,"
laughed the painter,
leaving for Faustos.
"Hey....do you know that guy...
Pritham Singh, who is he...
ask Bill.
He was a Facebook Freak,
stealing family pictures,
posting social shots...
assholes advertising their secrets
to the information network,
all slightly insane
for fame,
but mostly recognition
and a pat on the head
or holy horsefuck...
a hug!
Time passes and nothing happens,
events drag on and on and on...
"Perhaps there is a plan to this delay."
postured the one still there,
"If the Federal Reserve holds MBS
of Fanny and Freddy bought by Libya
and other sovereign central banks...
then they could redeem them at face
and save the Treasury...indeed, indeed!"
A student of 'The Dollar'.
One might think that the 'dollar minders'
of the education system might acquire
some sense of the cents and dollars
before spending money not theirs,
but 'they' are the same assholes
with underwater mortgages
and notes being called,
the arrangers of the 'deal'
who know how to steal,
"Eighty Million in the Pot
to drive and feed and educate
' these thrice blessed children of
the Isles of the Eternal Sun'...
yes, yes, yes, the future hope
to live the dream of a better life,"
agreed the parents considering
new sod for the soccer field.
"Close the Fed and tear down HOB,"
leaving to oil some old lady's hinge.
The Federal Reserve Apparatus
was an interesting beast to dissect
before considering destuction,
Money at Zero Percent Interest
would seem a beneficial thing
for refinancing something old,
enabling the debtor to reduce
the monthly payments
and 'grow the savings'
allowing banks to expand
with increased leverage.
"Fractional Banking is the greatest thing,
and nothing ever collapses...
'don't mortgage the house for stock'
said granny in the Thirties,
'its not what you own...
but how much you owe',
boasted the Merchants of Debt
during the Seventies,
'and how 'it' was insured
in the Nineties
when those pesky financial products,
credit default swaps,
derivatives of exotic order
in a Shadow Banking System
run by Bernie Madoff at The Nasdaq...
who would have imagined then,"
wondered the oldman
thirsty in the afternoon.
Asshole's little war seems in trouble,
the pathetic boob can't say 'no'
to the Pentagon Bullies
or the Wall Street Bankers,
Gas, Oil, Water and Gold
to be given to
'the Popular Empowerment'
led by the CIA 'fallalful man'...
funnier than fuck
and Leon is getting Gates' job.
Bill Gross is going to Europe
with an ETF in equities,
perhaps a bank
with a dark basement.
Allianze owns his ass!
"Hey...I just sold another painting,"
laughing and opening a coldone,
"And monday pay the rent,"
always the songwriter
and master of drama.
Another summer on the block,
maybe able to walk around
and photograph the buildings,
the old friends with their past,
taking imagination into memory,
"A funny cartoon TV household comedy,"
suggested the voice in the hallway
watching silently...
back from war.
"I brought you a present and more,"
flipping a five ounce Lybian gold dinar
on the bed beside his cane
and opening the painting.
Beyond the Reef.
Above the Horn.
Inside of Humour.
The painter and the printer disagreed.
DOGS 12810 114.20 1556 48.59. Libor 14. Vix 16.
Greetings from the Hill.
Another beautiful day in paradise,
quiet streets without illegals working,
homeowners saving in the drought,
water rationing...
the oldman hosed daily
and irrigated sunday and wednesday.
"Just like in the old days!"
Adjusting to life without help.
"So all the indices are up what does that mean,"
not waiting for an answer as usual,
"Airline passengers and auto traffic
up twenty per cent on the year,
rooms seventy five per cent
and two fifty a night...
'the highest in the state',
that is conflicting information."
"That is a lot of food and booze,"
laughed the painter barging in
smelling the printer's treat.
"I'm selling the 'Green Parrot'
for two thousand dollars,"
bragging again.
The painter and the printer disagreed.
"I've been checking out the scene
in Canada in particular Toronto...
something is peculiar in reportage,"
the fellow had a funny way
of talking.
"Well, it seems the party in power
pissed away the surplus and gave
the banks billions...american banks,
then loaned GM billions for the plants
and put Toronto in debt default,"
huffing and puffing the joint,
"What do you think of that...eh!"
He never played hockey.
Steve was a goalie, a Bruin fan.
The pageant of a Royal Wedding,
the future King of Debt Kingdom,
a product of a wasted generation,
when Grannie would rock him
in Buckingham Palace
and tell him frightful stories
of the Iron Lady.
His daddy taught him riding,
the hounds and polo...
Momma showed him to smile.
He partied with the sons
of Rothschild and Gadaffy,
studied derivative financing
and flew a fighter plane.
"Sell the Bankers the Crown Jewels,"
laughed the painter,
leaving for Faustos.
"Hey....do you know that guy...
Pritham Singh, who is he...
ask Bill.
He was a Facebook Freak,
stealing family pictures,
posting social shots...
assholes advertising their secrets
to the information network,
all slightly insane
for fame,
but mostly recognition
and a pat on the head
or holy horsefuck...
a hug!
Time passes and nothing happens,
events drag on and on and on...
"Perhaps there is a plan to this delay."
postured the one still there,
"If the Federal Reserve holds MBS
of Fanny and Freddy bought by Libya
and other sovereign central banks...
then they could redeem them at face
and save the Treasury...indeed, indeed!"
A student of 'The Dollar'.
One might think that the 'dollar minders'
of the education system might acquire
some sense of the cents and dollars
before spending money not theirs,
but 'they' are the same assholes
with underwater mortgages
and notes being called,
the arrangers of the 'deal'
who know how to steal,
"Eighty Million in the Pot
to drive and feed and educate
' these thrice blessed children of
the Isles of the Eternal Sun'...
yes, yes, yes, the future hope
to live the dream of a better life,"
agreed the parents considering
new sod for the soccer field.
"Close the Fed and tear down HOB,"
leaving to oil some old lady's hinge.
The Federal Reserve Apparatus
was an interesting beast to dissect
before considering destuction,
Money at Zero Percent Interest
would seem a beneficial thing
for refinancing something old,
enabling the debtor to reduce
the monthly payments
and 'grow the savings'
allowing banks to expand
with increased leverage.
"Fractional Banking is the greatest thing,
and nothing ever collapses...
'don't mortgage the house for stock'
said granny in the Thirties,
'its not what you own...
but how much you owe',
boasted the Merchants of Debt
during the Seventies,
'and how 'it' was insured
in the Nineties
when those pesky financial products,
credit default swaps,
derivatives of exotic order
in a Shadow Banking System
run by Bernie Madoff at The Nasdaq...
who would have imagined then,"
wondered the oldman
thirsty in the afternoon.
Asshole's little war seems in trouble,
the pathetic boob can't say 'no'
to the Pentagon Bullies
or the Wall Street Bankers,
Gas, Oil, Water and Gold
to be given to
'the Popular Empowerment'
led by the CIA 'fallalful man'...
funnier than fuck
and Leon is getting Gates' job.
Bill Gross is going to Europe
with an ETF in equities,
perhaps a bank
with a dark basement.
Allianze owns his ass!
"Hey...I just sold another painting,"
laughing and opening a coldone,
"And monday pay the rent,"
always the songwriter
and master of drama.
Another summer on the block,
maybe able to walk around
and photograph the buildings,
the old friends with their past,
taking imagination into memory,
"A funny cartoon TV household comedy,"
suggested the voice in the hallway
watching silently...
back from war.
"I brought you a present and more,"
flipping a five ounce Lybian gold dinar
on the bed beside his cane
and opening the painting.
Beyond the Reef.
Above the Horn.
Inside of Humour.
The painter and the printer disagreed.
Friday, April 22, 2011
Reflections after Winter.
0656/1954 76/86 Blue Skies E10/20 50%H.
DOGS 1248 112.32 1507 47.47. Libor 14. Vix 16.
Greetings from the Hill.
Springtime in paradise again,
absolutely gorgeous...
"And a vision to see
on the second week
with alcohol free eyes,"
laughs the oldman
enjoying the change.
Walking again with a cane,
the trusty seven iron,
the three iron when out and about...
"Longer and jaunty,"
muses the soberone,
hitting the sidewalks.
A different routine
when not lying in bed...
tending the balcony plants,
pampering Viola,
taking the sun,
doing dishes and watering gardens,
a notebook and rocking chair...
"And a view to the South,"
looking towards Cuba
and wondering when
the wiener in the White House
will engage another war.
The garden is a work of art
by another artist
of God's medium
and leftovers and abandoned treasures
of vacationers...
less transient than tourists,
a marvelous business
for someone who wanted.
"I can't stay here that long,"
lamented the gypsy,
ready to go golfing
while working on a course
opening in spring,
a bird that goes north.
The gardener didn't like the painter.
One was leaving Bone Island,
the other going to Dog Island,
"Ain't life a shame,"
shrugged the madone.
Life goes on.
Another is always at the door.
"When you got a shiny floor."
"Who wants to look after a Drunk...
unless you're in his will,"
cackled the painter,
snooping over the shoulder.
The oldman was watching hockey at eleven,
the painter was not working at night.
Alger visited each day with a treat
discussing the Financial Crisis,
opinioning on the culprits
responsible for the shortfall
in home ownership equity
while engineering the value of stocks
and the shorting of silver...
"You have to understand...Blah Blah,"
lecturing like like a commentator
with a canned speech
of soup bowl derivatives
and Bill Gross bonds.
"The Fed must be abolished!"
Leaving after a hot shower.
The Waterman was working at the Mosque,
installing a new system for the garden
of a business partner who operated
a sovereign fund for Gaddafi,
jetting about the world,
"I got paid in silver,"
bragged the entrepreneur,
recently opening his detective agency
to pursue the down and out,
the losers and victims of misfortune,
foreclosed but not forgotten...
Homestead his home,
the most hopeless city
in Florida.
The Wood Shoppe completed
the east bay end railing...
last year.
The fellow was diversifying his talents
to adapt to the times.
The rare book business was soft.
"America...the land of opportunities
for great ideas and another's work,"
squawked the rooster on the lathe
looking for his hen
hiding in the cement mixer.
"Funny how things don't work out,
like Deak always would say,
'some are productive,
most are non productive
and the worst...
are counter productive'..."
mused the oldman
listening to smooth jazz
at midnight
from Havana.
Something about being sober!
The oldman was hungry,
thinking about the chicken
the painter brought him last night...
then ate 'it' for lunch.
Dinner would no longer be
'four pounds of beer',
the thin man's diet.
The gardener watched TV without cigarettes,
the painter pecked on Facebook,
dreaming of juicy pussy
alone at home.
Reading the blog of a year ago to date,
"What a fucking collection of Assholes,
down the drainpipe of DEBT
into the storm sewer of BANKRUPTCY
then treated at the TOXIC WASTE plant
to 'Grow The Economy'...
all recycled shit of a liar's kit,"
and Obama smooth talking down
to his bewildered masses
stuck on their asses
becoming more comfortible
with less and less...
and a government
of more and more,
"The Employer of Last Resort
for military personell,
corrupt politicians,
crooked bureaucrats,
teachers and street sweepers,
fucking hopeless unions,"
growled the oldman
awake at one,
the west coast game in overtime.
Two painters in the house,
one staying,
one leaving.
"I'll be back...
if you're still alive,"
the smartass drunk,
street drinking pints,
the seven percent kind
of the 'little people',
his night fans.
"I don't know what the Doctor
sees in him, he's so loud
and full of himself,"
groaned the gardener
taking his last photographs,
not appreciating the fellow
who paid his flight
when escaping to LA
then wanting to come home.
Four months ago.
Before Obama's Little War.
When Silver was much cheaper.
And "the Market poised'....
Above the Reef.
Beyond the Horn.
Sober on the Hill.
DOGS 1248 112.32 1507 47.47. Libor 14. Vix 16.
Greetings from the Hill.
Springtime in paradise again,
absolutely gorgeous...
"And a vision to see
on the second week
with alcohol free eyes,"
laughs the oldman
enjoying the change.
Walking again with a cane,
the trusty seven iron,
the three iron when out and about...
"Longer and jaunty,"
muses the soberone,
hitting the sidewalks.
A different routine
when not lying in bed...
tending the balcony plants,
pampering Viola,
taking the sun,
doing dishes and watering gardens,
a notebook and rocking chair...
"And a view to the South,"
looking towards Cuba
and wondering when
the wiener in the White House
will engage another war.
The garden is a work of art
by another artist
of God's medium
and leftovers and abandoned treasures
of vacationers...
less transient than tourists,
a marvelous business
for someone who wanted.
"I can't stay here that long,"
lamented the gypsy,
ready to go golfing
while working on a course
opening in spring,
a bird that goes north.
The gardener didn't like the painter.
One was leaving Bone Island,
the other going to Dog Island,
"Ain't life a shame,"
shrugged the madone.
Life goes on.
Another is always at the door.
"When you got a shiny floor."
"Who wants to look after a Drunk...
unless you're in his will,"
cackled the painter,
snooping over the shoulder.
The oldman was watching hockey at eleven,
the painter was not working at night.
Alger visited each day with a treat
discussing the Financial Crisis,
opinioning on the culprits
responsible for the shortfall
in home ownership equity
while engineering the value of stocks
and the shorting of silver...
"You have to understand...Blah Blah,"
lecturing like like a commentator
with a canned speech
of soup bowl derivatives
and Bill Gross bonds.
"The Fed must be abolished!"
Leaving after a hot shower.
The Waterman was working at the Mosque,
installing a new system for the garden
of a business partner who operated
a sovereign fund for Gaddafi,
jetting about the world,
"I got paid in silver,"
bragged the entrepreneur,
recently opening his detective agency
to pursue the down and out,
the losers and victims of misfortune,
foreclosed but not forgotten...
Homestead his home,
the most hopeless city
in Florida.
The Wood Shoppe completed
the east bay end railing...
last year.
The fellow was diversifying his talents
to adapt to the times.
The rare book business was soft.
"America...the land of opportunities
for great ideas and another's work,"
squawked the rooster on the lathe
looking for his hen
hiding in the cement mixer.
"Funny how things don't work out,
like Deak always would say,
'some are productive,
most are non productive
and the worst...
are counter productive'..."
mused the oldman
listening to smooth jazz
at midnight
from Havana.
Something about being sober!
The oldman was hungry,
thinking about the chicken
the painter brought him last night...
then ate 'it' for lunch.
Dinner would no longer be
'four pounds of beer',
the thin man's diet.
The gardener watched TV without cigarettes,
the painter pecked on Facebook,
dreaming of juicy pussy
alone at home.
Reading the blog of a year ago to date,
"What a fucking collection of Assholes,
down the drainpipe of DEBT
into the storm sewer of BANKRUPTCY
then treated at the TOXIC WASTE plant
to 'Grow The Economy'...
all recycled shit of a liar's kit,"
and Obama smooth talking down
to his bewildered masses
stuck on their asses
becoming more comfortible
with less and less...
and a government
of more and more,
"The Employer of Last Resort
for military personell,
corrupt politicians,
crooked bureaucrats,
teachers and street sweepers,
fucking hopeless unions,"
growled the oldman
awake at one,
the west coast game in overtime.
Two painters in the house,
one staying,
one leaving.
"I'll be back...
if you're still alive,"
the smartass drunk,
street drinking pints,
the seven percent kind
of the 'little people',
his night fans.
"I don't know what the Doctor
sees in him, he's so loud
and full of himself,"
groaned the gardener
taking his last photographs,
not appreciating the fellow
who paid his flight
when escaping to LA
then wanting to come home.
Four months ago.
Before Obama's Little War.
When Silver was much cheaper.
And "the Market poised'....
Above the Reef.
Beyond the Horn.
Sober on the Hill.
Thursday, April 21, 2011
Viewing Paradise...Alcohol free # Five!
0659/1952 77/87 Blue Skies E10/20 50%H.
DOGS 12481 1123 1507 47.47. Libor 14. Vix 16.
Greetings from the Hill.
A beautiful day in paradise,
ringing chimes and blue skies
with refreshing breezes....
classics from Havana,
idiots on CNBC
and back on The Mac.
The Financial Fuckup hits home
as the elected ones
spend borrowed money.
Bashinsky takes on the Assholes,
politicians and beauracrats
who lie, steal and cheat
but are never prosecuted
let alone persecuted.
FlaKey News.com.
"Imagine a brilliant lawyer
digging up the dirt of 'The Dirty',
The Monroe County Thirty,"
wondered the madone
watering the balcony plants
and the gardens below,
a three month drought...
the oldman had a five day thirst.
The deceit and conspiracy of Washington,
the fraud of Wall Street trickles down
to every greedy town
seeking Obama Funds...
"The Money is there, apply for 'it',"
schemes one of 'The Thirty',"
a school Superintendent,
a county Mayor,
a city Commissioner...
aided by a debtmaster
arranging a Bank of America bond
with a fishy lawyer.
"Teaching the locals to chum the waters
of an eighty million dollar pool
to educate the stupidist in history,
daycare for halfwits,"
growled the sober oldman
amazed at school boards
run by braindeads.
"All these Assholes are divers
in their underwater assets,
making deals with 'other money'
while bankrupt themselves,
ripping off school credit cards
and imaginary programs,
fuck the taxpayers..."
taking as much as 'they'can
before the shit hits the fan
and some grand jury
gets in a hurry.
"Hey, we're richer than a drug dealer,"
boasted the million dollar house owner
rearranging his mortgage
to acquire a rental in paradise,
upward mobility and gentrification
for the middle class masses
who wanted educated children
and pizza on a granite counter.
The Harris School still sits empty.
Twenty thousand people,
less every year
and more of the 'queer'...
"Really, less students as well,
maybe converting to private prep schools
for the young gay at mind
and ladies of another kind,"
laughed the painter
looking over the oldman's shoulder
"Hey, I'm going to paint these buildings
to preserve another time in history
when lead paint was great,"
still drunk from last night.
Staying until the summer,
then leaving 'Bone Island'
for 'Dog Island'
and new adventures.
Gold and Silver reach new highs,
the silly young men on CNBC
promote opportunities in wealth
and financial management,
drooling over the talking tits...
"Stupid, silly and tragic,
without any hope of magic,"
groaned the oldman
drinking coffee at four.
"Hardball is worse,"
snorted the madone.
"A hundred million for a new school,
new city offices and a fire station,
throw in a parking lot...
add a poor people park
with a mega yacht harbor
for the powers that be...
democracy is great,"
grumbles the soberone,
testing the 'Great Experiment'
as Obama fumbles without a teleprompter
attempting improvisation,
"We can do 'it' together,
we can grow the economy,
tomatoes, potatoes and pot
in a backyard plot...
hofuckingho!"
mocks the madone
ready for a rollup.
"Don't tell 'them' they are dumb...
'they' will hit their thumb
and bend the chinese nail
meant to hold the president's print.
Forty per cent support Obama...
seventy per cent question his birth,
Donald Trump stirs the shit.
"Blah blah blah," babbles the drunk
having slept 'it' off....
imagine identifying those mysterious 'its'.
"He has to find a way to put this to bed,"
frowns a short haired crosseyed cunt
with funny glasses...
a smartass from Politico.
"Fuck it all!"
Nobody seems to know how the school
grew so high so fast without the police,
the firemen or auto salesmen noticing
on their cigarette breaks...
"Those new fangled concrete slabs
trucked down by helicopters
to get 'it' up on time...
before a twenty million dollar fine,"
claimed a conch at 'Five Brothers',
family on the school board,
an aunt who drives a bus,
a sister in the cafeteria,
'following the money trail'.
"Great thieves come from Harvard and MIT,
maybe in time from HOB...
we grow our own,"
said the Superintendent of Schools
moving on to elsewhere
having done his job
increasing the school board debt
to a hundred million or so.
"Protected by Derivatives of course."
A breeze in the Keys,
Above the Reef.
Sober on the Hill.
the scum take while 'they' can
until the shit hits the fan.
DOGS 12481 1123 1507 47.47. Libor 14. Vix 16.
Greetings from the Hill.
A beautiful day in paradise,
ringing chimes and blue skies
with refreshing breezes....
classics from Havana,
idiots on CNBC
and back on The Mac.
The Financial Fuckup hits home
as the elected ones
spend borrowed money.
Bashinsky takes on the Assholes,
politicians and beauracrats
who lie, steal and cheat
but are never prosecuted
let alone persecuted.
FlaKey News.com.
"Imagine a brilliant lawyer
digging up the dirt of 'The Dirty',
The Monroe County Thirty,"
wondered the madone
watering the balcony plants
and the gardens below,
a three month drought...
the oldman had a five day thirst.
The deceit and conspiracy of Washington,
the fraud of Wall Street trickles down
to every greedy town
seeking Obama Funds...
"The Money is there, apply for 'it',"
schemes one of 'The Thirty',"
a school Superintendent,
a county Mayor,
a city Commissioner...
aided by a debtmaster
arranging a Bank of America bond
with a fishy lawyer.
"Teaching the locals to chum the waters
of an eighty million dollar pool
to educate the stupidist in history,
daycare for halfwits,"
growled the sober oldman
amazed at school boards
run by braindeads.
"All these Assholes are divers
in their underwater assets,
making deals with 'other money'
while bankrupt themselves,
ripping off school credit cards
and imaginary programs,
fuck the taxpayers..."
taking as much as 'they'can
before the shit hits the fan
and some grand jury
gets in a hurry.
"Hey, we're richer than a drug dealer,"
boasted the million dollar house owner
rearranging his mortgage
to acquire a rental in paradise,
upward mobility and gentrification
for the middle class masses
who wanted educated children
and pizza on a granite counter.
The Harris School still sits empty.
Twenty thousand people,
less every year
and more of the 'queer'...
"Really, less students as well,
maybe converting to private prep schools
for the young gay at mind
and ladies of another kind,"
laughed the painter
looking over the oldman's shoulder
"Hey, I'm going to paint these buildings
to preserve another time in history
when lead paint was great,"
still drunk from last night.
Staying until the summer,
then leaving 'Bone Island'
for 'Dog Island'
and new adventures.
Gold and Silver reach new highs,
the silly young men on CNBC
promote opportunities in wealth
and financial management,
drooling over the talking tits...
"Stupid, silly and tragic,
without any hope of magic,"
groaned the oldman
drinking coffee at four.
"Hardball is worse,"
snorted the madone.
"A hundred million for a new school,
new city offices and a fire station,
throw in a parking lot...
add a poor people park
with a mega yacht harbor
for the powers that be...
democracy is great,"
grumbles the soberone,
testing the 'Great Experiment'
as Obama fumbles without a teleprompter
attempting improvisation,
"We can do 'it' together,
we can grow the economy,
tomatoes, potatoes and pot
in a backyard plot...
hofuckingho!"
mocks the madone
ready for a rollup.
"Don't tell 'them' they are dumb...
'they' will hit their thumb
and bend the chinese nail
meant to hold the president's print.
Forty per cent support Obama...
seventy per cent question his birth,
Donald Trump stirs the shit.
"Blah blah blah," babbles the drunk
having slept 'it' off....
imagine identifying those mysterious 'its'.
"He has to find a way to put this to bed,"
frowns a short haired crosseyed cunt
with funny glasses...
a smartass from Politico.
"Fuck it all!"
Nobody seems to know how the school
grew so high so fast without the police,
the firemen or auto salesmen noticing
on their cigarette breaks...
"Those new fangled concrete slabs
trucked down by helicopters
to get 'it' up on time...
before a twenty million dollar fine,"
claimed a conch at 'Five Brothers',
family on the school board,
an aunt who drives a bus,
a sister in the cafeteria,
'following the money trail'.
"Great thieves come from Harvard and MIT,
maybe in time from HOB...
we grow our own,"
said the Superintendent of Schools
moving on to elsewhere
having done his job
increasing the school board debt
to a hundred million or so.
"Protected by Derivatives of course."
A breeze in the Keys,
Above the Reef.
Sober on the Hill.
the scum take while 'they' can
until the shit hits the fan.
Saturday, April 16, 2011
"Seventy one....And good for another year," she smiled.
0708 1948 76/86 Blue Skies E5/10 50%H.
DOGS 12268 10820 147430 4188 LIBOR 14 VIX 16.
Greetings from the Hill.
""A beautiful day in paradise to you sir"....
a greeting from the generation that
partied with the Kennedy's,
and there was music
in the Key West air,
the people were slightly square,
not a type of financial derivative.
Joe Bageamt stopped writing...
Death does that, but his way
exposing truth through unique
phrases in rants of national love.
hilarious improvisations of
the country redneck view of politics,
perhaps the greatest treasure of all...
"Finding common thought with one
who writes 'it' better!"
.
"Never ends, does 'it',
always another clue , and then
another and another...for what...
'There is no God in Mason Houses',
give 'it' up and raise ducks,"
said Jon Voight in National Treasure...
a plank in the policy of the party
of 'The Great Society'
The floorboards are rotten
because the fridge leaks
no hot water 'cause the shower leaks',
but the cable works fine...
sitting in the A/C
waiting for the Maintenance Man.
"One day, you wait and see,
he ain't never gonna come again",
warned the gardener acting cryptic
in another of his spoiled fits
when facing the truth of his class...
he would have to work
for money...the owner of time.
CooCoo Farm days are over.
The oldman survived his birthday
and his present to the house...
paying off the Tax Certicate,
and four thousand dollars poorer,
"Good for another year",laughed
the county conch clerk
who witnessed this annual routine
for over twenty
of the forty years....
"Always made birthdays memorable,"
laughed the oldman
typing without glasses
to avoid the pain of an infected molar.
The last April of his life was half over,
a canopy of green burgeoned on Solaris Hill,
bare branches shooting buds of Poinciana
soon to emblazon the island in reds and oranges,
more subject for weekend painters,
another fantasy fulfilled in paradise
"For a big spender Tourist,"
shrugged the madone,
popping a pint
for the dying one.
"You just walk away from things...
gone... ,out of the mind... ignored..
no longer entertaining BORING
interest level in band waves only..."
invents the oldman,
getting faster, seeing clearer,
life without glasses
or a golf club cane.
The Blogist quit for a month
and more Lies got passed,
Panneta installed a revolutionary general,
a naturalized American citizen,
catering at Langley
"The Falafal Man....
bumboy for Frank Wisner Jr,
ramrodding Citi operations from Egypt,
Pretty Boy Barry barking hope for CHANGE...
enough to make a healthy man barf.
"And all the queen's men from England and France
couldn't make the 'Madman dance,"
roared the painter hungry at noon,
in a very good mood
despite being...
"Financially embarassed,"
his line that always worked
on rich older women,
but he had not been laid
since adopting celibacy at home.
"The Recession is Over!"
proclaimed the President at noon.
"Real Estate has Bottomed,"
announced the Vice President during lunch.
"All Troops are coming Home,"
ordered Gates gone mad.
"My Husband shall Return,"
cackled the Crazy Hillary,
sweeping the White House steps.
Barry Dunham sows seeds of dissent
because his daddy was a polygimist
not lawful in Hawaii...
a bastard born.....
"My father never came home
and Momma traveled the world,
Gramma laundered money
and Gramps taught me to surf,"
conceding the Carter Times,
when Momma between missions
encouraged his jump shot
and dreams of the NBA
while she with the CIA.
"Hey, oldman, I got you new glasses,"
laughed the painter
offering help
to read the bank statement
uncovering more mendacity
and lies from mocking eyes,
singing another's song.
"Welllll.. the Season's Over,"
dismisses the MADONE,
another pretender in paradise.
"Who the fuck cares...
a gang of thieves
encouraged to cheat
on tax returns...
"Corporations pay no taxes
nor half the citizenry,
just the betteroff.
Above the Reef...
High on the Hill!
DOGS 12268 10820 147430 4188 LIBOR 14 VIX 16.
Greetings from the Hill.
""A beautiful day in paradise to you sir"....
a greeting from the generation that
partied with the Kennedy's,
and there was music
in the Key West air,
the people were slightly square,
not a type of financial derivative.
Joe Bageamt stopped writing...
Death does that, but his way
exposing truth through unique
phrases in rants of national love.
hilarious improvisations of
the country redneck view of politics,
perhaps the greatest treasure of all...
"Finding common thought with one
who writes 'it' better!"
.
"Never ends, does 'it',
always another clue , and then
another and another...for what...
'There is no God in Mason Houses',
give 'it' up and raise ducks,"
said Jon Voight in National Treasure...
a plank in the policy of the party
of 'The Great Society'
The floorboards are rotten
because the fridge leaks
no hot water 'cause the shower leaks',
but the cable works fine...
sitting in the A/C
waiting for the Maintenance Man.
"One day, you wait and see,
he ain't never gonna come again",
warned the gardener acting cryptic
in another of his spoiled fits
when facing the truth of his class...
he would have to work
for money...the owner of time.
CooCoo Farm days are over.
The oldman survived his birthday
and his present to the house...
paying off the Tax Certicate,
and four thousand dollars poorer,
"Good for another year",laughed
the county conch clerk
who witnessed this annual routine
for over twenty
of the forty years....
"Always made birthdays memorable,"
laughed the oldman
typing without glasses
to avoid the pain of an infected molar.
The last April of his life was half over,
a canopy of green burgeoned on Solaris Hill,
bare branches shooting buds of Poinciana
soon to emblazon the island in reds and oranges,
more subject for weekend painters,
another fantasy fulfilled in paradise
"For a big spender Tourist,"
shrugged the madone,
popping a pint
for the dying one.
"You just walk away from things...
gone... ,out of the mind... ignored..
no longer entertaining BORING
interest level in band waves only..."
invents the oldman,
getting faster, seeing clearer,
life without glasses
or a golf club cane.
The Blogist quit for a month
and more Lies got passed,
Panneta installed a revolutionary general,
a naturalized American citizen,
catering at Langley
"The Falafal Man....
bumboy for Frank Wisner Jr,
ramrodding Citi operations from Egypt,
Pretty Boy Barry barking hope for CHANGE...
enough to make a healthy man barf.
"And all the queen's men from England and France
couldn't make the 'Madman dance,"
roared the painter hungry at noon,
in a very good mood
despite being...
"Financially embarassed,"
his line that always worked
on rich older women,
but he had not been laid
since adopting celibacy at home.
"The Recession is Over!"
proclaimed the President at noon.
"Real Estate has Bottomed,"
announced the Vice President during lunch.
"All Troops are coming Home,"
ordered Gates gone mad.
"My Husband shall Return,"
cackled the Crazy Hillary,
sweeping the White House steps.
Barry Dunham sows seeds of dissent
because his daddy was a polygimist
not lawful in Hawaii...
a bastard born.....
"My father never came home
and Momma traveled the world,
Gramma laundered money
and Gramps taught me to surf,"
conceding the Carter Times,
when Momma between missions
encouraged his jump shot
and dreams of the NBA
while she with the CIA.
"Hey, oldman, I got you new glasses,"
laughed the painter
offering help
to read the bank statement
uncovering more mendacity
and lies from mocking eyes,
singing another's song.
"Welllll.. the Season's Over,"
dismisses the MADONE,
another pretender in paradise.
"Who the fuck cares...
a gang of thieves
encouraged to cheat
on tax returns...
"Corporations pay no taxes
nor half the citizenry,
just the betteroff.
Above the Reef...
High on the Hill!
Friday, March 18, 2011
Obama dribbles...Japan burns!
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.
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.
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