Summertime Scandals are Brewing.

0639/2018 81/90 Hazy E/10 75%H

Greetings from the Hill.

Away from the Rock for a visit,
politics have become obsessive
and economics depressing...
a simpler view of life.

A front yard chair and a toasty home.

"Well, 'it' didn't last long,
that indian song,"
grumbles the madone left alone.

"And a new face on the Rock."

The oldman had been studying machines,
those peculiar devices that record information
for marketeers of financial products
giving the Hedge an edge.

"Perhaps Obama knows about those 'things'
and those companies like CitiGroup
and their 2000 subsidiaries worldwide,
not offices...companies,
paid 850M for ATD that processes
200M deals a day...6% of the Action.
It is not Regulation, 'IT' is the equipment,
the technology to monitor the banksters,
the IRS doesn't have the tools, not the SEC,
nor CRTC, the FED's models are a decade old,
perhaps an expert economist might,"
muses the oldman sipping a warm beer.

"I don't know how to use a computer,
that's why I have Phil and Wendy,"
bullshits another braindead candidate,
another King for Duncedom.

This Georgia Texan Democrat Republican
wear any coat with money in the pockets
and his corrupted wife are frauds...
her as CMFA of CFTC setting up deregulation
for ENRON for BUSHONE,
then joining the gangsters
as financial director
with all the payoffs.

Scuzzball sucks ass and cons Clinton
with the Gramm Leach Bliley Act
and the world of Credit Swaps...
"Hey, asshole, familiar....
2000 Subs and offshore derivatives
coming down on Bobby Rubin,
man the torpedoes, call the Fed."

My heavens but this shit is not new,
merely relabeled for export
and gullible foreigners who want
the American Dream.

Even the Swiss got sucked in
by Silly Phil and Wendy the Gook

The Forgotten War of George Insane.

0638/2018 81/88 Blue Skies SSE/5 70%H

Greetings from the Hill.

A hot and humid day in paradise,
a faint breeze from Havana,
classics clear in the president's room.

Outrage from Ontario
and photos to match...
"Hey, who doesn't hate the Worm,
who can remember Katrina..
or their mortgage payments,"
snorts the madone watering
the rooster on the balcony.

These young men traumatized for what...
for Oil Conglomerates to return
and suck out $200 barrels for a buck
dislocating a million souls
and destroying antiquity,
"Perverts for Profit,"
growls the madone...
"MadCow burgereaters."

These fuckingassholes have won
and destroyed the American Dream
of the patriot young,
fighters for banker's wars
too dumb to know
that Traders are
the real Traitors.

"Sell a number,
Sell a Soul...."
a baseball agent.
Yeah, that's when 'it' started,
Brooklyn went to LA and TV,
the market went national,
then international and...
"WorldWide Wrestling,"
StupidGeorge's favorite show.

"Is it any wonder," wondered the oldman.

And young men suffered the lies
of baby killers and profiteers
to be crippled for years,
while billionaires fly in jets
to taxfree havens
abetted by regulaters
bribed by crooked lawyers
and accountants.

"We must have accountability
and transparency and truth
in shadow banking," lied the Limey,
that cunt who is rumoured
to have invented those 'things'
for JPM in London
for the Rothschild Brand.

Keep saving cans,
tin is going up.

Bicycle to work.

Don't eat dinner.

Blythe Masters is a Spy.

Saving for the Seasons.

0638/2017 79/89 Light Clouds SW15/20 75%H

Greetings from the Hill.

The reddish orange blossoms of poincianna
fill the open west window
against a brilliant blue background.
Thunder roars from Mallory Square,
Florida Bay a menacing grey,
the joy of island living.

Cats, birds and chickens fed,
plants watered, floors swept,
the backyard garden a trimming...
extending daily chores to prevent
atrophication of the soul,
laboring for love
not greed.

"That fucking Bud is horsepiss anyway,
and Joe Fourpack just don't care,
poor fucks just nibbled away,"
snorts the madone fingering the conchtrain
and four passengers...
empty parking spaces,
storm shuttered houses,
summer vacation
for spoiled students,
"And no more drug testing...
Free to Board, Free to Board,"
babbling on the balcony.

It was just one of those days,
the mind full of MarketWatch and Roubini,
Clusterfuck, Asia Times, NYT and KWC,
Rueters, the Economist, the Guardian and BBC,
lovely lies from the WhiteHouse and FRB,
and into the mental blender of wonderment
concocts 'SmoothyShit', the answer
to 'it'....derivatives and credit swaps,
manipulations of the 'Twenty Dealers',
partners in all crime...
"The Fucking Fed,
Clearing Corporation,
and Markit,
the Shadows of OTC,
you'll see when out to sea
on a sinking raft,"
rants the thirstyone
at noon.

The broken shoulder was not healing,
pain kept the brain alive,
those without benefits
alone must survive
or sell sell sell
to pay to die.

America supports her Poor,
the old and crippled,
with a soupbone to stir.

"Now, now, don't be disturbed,
'it' was a dogbone
from the gas shelter,
but who knows next...Soylent Green,"

"Revenge is sweet...sweet crude futures,
all those years of ugly american bucklording
over the little people now fuckbucked
in their big fat asses,"
thinking of lunch.

"Cornburgers for the Chinese,
raw eggs for the ragheads,
barbequed beets for East Indians,
baby seals for Canadians
at McDonalds' McMansions,
America's Bed and Breakfasts,"
and 'it' could come true.

Recycle and bicycle.

Walk for beer.

Summer Planning.

0632/2015 78/88 Blue Skies E10/15 70%H



Greetings from the Hill.



A Magnum PI day in paradise,

a lovely young lady hiding below

from a murderous exlover,

the richest lesbian in town.

"Where's PI Bill,"

wonders the madone

with a gallon of paint.



The engineer could have fun

for the summer season.

Worked for the biggest, GE,

to get his first ring at Georgia Tech,

then off to Annapolis

and nuclear submarine school,

a ring on the USS INIANAPOLIS.

Back on land with nuclear plants

from Michigan to Turkey Point.

Then heading Universal Exploits,

an innovator in the INTERNET,

KEYS WATER.COM.

Perhaps 'it' could be nice,
the weather without destruction
"And life without construction,"
sighs the oldman wondering
about the indians' friend below.

A lovely day in paradise
where Jimmy B. was A1A
on the Anchor Inn bar,
Bud's bar....
eating Laurie's pussy.

Off to the beach
in Terry's tractor.

Boil your tomatoes,
cook your books.

Eat raw fish.

Sing in the rain.

Hurricane Season and Horseshit.

0636/2014 80/88 Blue Skies ESE10/15 70%H

Greetings from the Hill.

A gorgeous day in paradise, blue skies,
billowing white clouds, swaying palms,
quiet streets before the tour arrives...
"The What and for Whom,"
sputters the madone,
amazed at the neighbour exposing his home
for 'Pridefest', a week when
gays and lesbians talk
to each other...
"And that ripoff 'Rainbow Flag',"
snorting and wondering
about Moody's persuasion.

The oldman sighed and sipped
another pint,
fat dikes and fruits on bikes,
another way to sell a house,
tours for whores.

The opera from Havana,
Dragnet on FreeTV,
doves eating catfood,
cats sleeping on scaffolding,
roosters in the gardens,
underwear on the clothesline,
the Rogosuite empty and neat,
the indian on a rideabout.

The oldman wondered about the future,
less than five months...
would he live to see 'Change'
or the same dumb shit
avoiding the truth of 'it'.

"Barryboy or Bambi, as the cunt calls him
is an effete, not killer quality,
he might get the 20%'s,
but queers aren't sissies anymore,
too weak to lead mercenaries,"
grumbles the madone
disgusted with the deceit
of pathetic faces
pretending races.

"The dumbfuck public doesn't vote,
give them a beercard, a gascard,
good for an 'Andrew Jackson',
get them to the polling booth
and home with a dime,"
the oldman hated house tours.

And snotty fat shorthaired dikes.

The gayboys next door had gone north
and shuttered their home
for the season.

The hurricane season.

A lovely breeze in the Keys
the Isles of Eternal Sun,
All One Family
until November.

Recycle and bicycle.

Buy the canned goods.

And don't wear hoods.

On to the Convention.

0637/2012 78/88 Blue Skies SSE/5 70%H.

Greetings from the Hill.

A beautiful morning in paradise,
chores done at sunup,
quiet streets and empty spaces,
the June exodus...
evictions to those too poor to leave.

"What a fucking mess for the next,
four lawyers in The White House
can't save this disaster...
and the prick who started 'it'
will be sniffing about,"
grumbles the madone
never impressed with Billy Blythe
after repealing 'The Glass Steagle Act'
making banks conglomerates.

"Now 'this blackman' is pure spin,
a bastard born to a married man
doing postgraduate studies
on a white woman...
who abandons forever his family
doctoring in economics at Harvard,
returning to native Kenya
raising more pureblacks
and dies drunk...
just like Billy's dad
in a ditch,"
snorts the oldman
belching on tomato juice.

Roosters crowing below.

Breakfast served in the president's room,
homefries, cheese omelette, rye toast,
a garden grown tomato,
the oldman was starving...
life had been tumultuous lately.

Gregory Peck and Robert Mitchum
in Cape Fear, the classic, on FreeTV,
classics from Havana,
palm trees swaying,
cats sleeping,
the oldman pecking
about politics.

"Truth..gimme some truth,"
shouts the madone
walking out to the balcony,
spouting to a deserted street.
"Barry Soetoro for President
or why not Barry Dunham,
but Obama the bigamist,
shit on shit on shit
on a shithead public."

The white jury convicted
an innocent blackman
not in Cape Fear,
but To Kill A Mockingbird,
the oldman was senile.

The little boy had a new daddy
and moved to Jakarta at six,
learning muslim and catholic prayers,
returning to Hawaii and granny,
the only white female vicepresident
in state banking...proud of Barry Who
and their daughter now a doctor...

Columbia and Harvard then Chicago,
and the world of law and politics,
a black lawyer wife
and African roots
of bigamist Obama.

"Hey, fuckwad.. and you think Bush lies,
read the Fed speeches, fancy shit,
fancier graphs and charts,
FOMC and Satyajit Das,
Superderivatives ragmag,"
not even started
with Janet Yellen,
his favorite fed.

Billowing white clouds
and blue skies
with a lazy breeze.

Recycle and bicycle.