Level Plumb and Square.

0652/1954 75/85 Hazy S/5 75%H



Greetings from the Hill.



A sultry spring day in paradise,

hazy, warm and humid...

the oldman was still sick and suffering

headaches, ringing ears, dizziness,

burning eyes and lack of concentration...

"Too fucking tired to blog or..

sick of the banksters and liaticians

who dumb and numb the brain,"

growls the madone,

classics from Havana, no TV,

cats fed and sleeping,

dishes done,

plants watered

floors swept.



"Tomorrow and another day at court,

a new code inspector to dig deeper

into the historic house problems...

the engineer has leveled the floor,

plumbed the tilted walls

and squared the beams...

pretty damn good by himself,"

acknowledges the madone.



"And a new railing yesterday,"

muses the oldman becoming

faint at noon.



All this oppressive shit of finance,

minor millionaires pretending,

playing in bigtime digits

betting on betting on betting.

"Yeah, you assholes..

square derivatives that

magnify the 32/1 leverage

of HedgeHogging in the Caymans

or the world's largest sandtrap

Dubai."



Hazy silver skies and roofs

surrounded by lush spring leaves,

the forty foot Key Lime burgeoning

with yellow blossoms across the street,

a red trumpet of Royal Poinciana

dazzles through the west window...

"Greedy pissant thieves who strive

to drive the Bush SUV with SIV's

and exotic titles fueled by corn,

maybe the hungry starving masses

will push and pull for pennies...

Or maybe a ten cent dollar,"

wondering what reason

beside the greed of all

could cause Uncle Sam

to fall.



"Don't want to hear about 'it',

that answer to the predicament,

a cause of recession, a factor

in the financial model of bankers,

the buzzwords of hustlers with

lists of million dollar suckers...

the 20/20 Club," spitting

at the chickens below,

who only wanted food,

a little rice perhaps

or maybe corn.



"The dumbass fuckwads can't see,

never view their bulging bodies naked,

or are the fatones lowerclass, underclass,

the million elite are trim and slim

and the middleclass all on diets,

living not as they are

but who they fantasize...

smaller clothes sizes,

larger room sizes,"

upward mobility towards

The Diety of Debt,

gloom and doom without a tomb.



"Ah, it happens every decade,

a few trillion gets wiped out,

gamblers out of their league,

amateurs with the pros,"

skoffs Mileken beyond 'it',

that mysterious 'it' again...

all serving, like 'fuck it',

which the sheeple of this

'Once Great Nation'

ought to consider

come November.



The oldman's head was aching

from the fraud and deception,

truth in advertising but no returns

without buyer protection...

"Insurance is the name of the game,

hedge your bets for the gamble,

protect AAA's with derivatives,

that 'shadowy OTC market' by Markit,

coowned by the 'Top Twenty'

who get saved by 'Bailout Bernie'

and Whoever Whatever

the Fool in the Debt House.



Save canned goods.



Live on fifty a week.



Don't drive to work.



Buy Miller fourpacks.



Hardly a breeze

in the florida keys

where building booms

and nothing sells.



"