Off the balcony and around the town.

0644/2020 82/90 Blue Skies SW5/10 75%H
DOGS 8187 6254 9260 1313.

G suck secondreetings from the Hill.

Another beautiful day in paradise,
a lovely breeze on the balcony...
classics from Havana,
CNBC on TV,
talking tits and stupid heads.

Rodgin Cohen is quite the fellow.

His billion dollar firm of shysters
play both and every way...
he could never suck second
to Tiny Tim.

Enough to leave the house.

These guys are all in the know,
arrange the biggest mergers
and advise the leveraged buyouts.

Permit the banks thier pieces of gold,
after the toxic is sold
to the citizens of Duncedom.

"They make the laws
to break the laws,"rages the madone
tying his sneakers for the walk.

Another morning studying those things,
those very mysterious things
that Alan Greenspan loves
and will be the savior of greed
and the nemesis of need...

"A financial instrument whose value
is based on the value of an underlying
reference...commodity, currency, bond,
equity...or an index or event.
Price, yield, volatility,dividends,
weather, carbon exhaust and death."
suggests Sheila Bair.

Replicating a sale without owning.

"Ever get a corporate certifcate,
Fuck no, street name so the banksters
use your stock for leverage and...
those naked shorts, hofuckingho,
investors with pants down,"
grumbles the madone
heading away from hucksters.

Tourists certainly are a strange bunch,
behaving as they are without neighbors,
without fools in thier pools.

"As the Austrian School of Economics
always said, 'it' was human behavior
with a huge random element
not to mention Talib's Black Swan hypothisis
of unforeseen catastrophic events
making a complete mockery
of bell curve probabilities
to forecast longterm expected results,"
hofuckingho mused the oldman
heading to the blue waters.

Perhaps 'it' was something simpler,
a desire to be wanted and loved...
I need, I want, I deserve.
Go for the Best Deal.
The Price is Right.
Reach for the Star.
You deserve the Best.

Phrases from the Devil's Handbook
of financial engineering
and the whores of Madison Avenue.

"Have a drink oldman, Flagler's Folly,
'they' took out the putting greens,"
laughed the madone helping
the oldfart through the hallway.

Already three miles from home
and ninety degrees in the shade.

A lovely young woman administered
to the oldman's needs
beneath a palm tree
on the beach,
she worked for Raymond James.

"What does 'it' mean oldman,"
she smiled in the tropical sun.

"Absurdity, my dear, the twisted tongue
of legal semantics....'Security related
derivatives are securities, therefore
SEC regulated'...
If you bet on a horse in a horse race,
do you own the nag, the track
or the concessions...."
the investment dealers are agents
of the government conducting
a market for invisible trades
without a systemic risk regulator.

Section 17A.

Tax the trades and follow the trail.

Just like a phonecall.

The oldman was weak and feeling faint,
perhaps a swim before renting
a windsurfer or canoe.

"Hey, Mad Jack, you're looking good,
I heard you were dead,"
smiles a happy soul from the past,
inviting the oldman to the shelter
on the beach with an ocean view.

Sunset on the other side of the Rock.

Above the Horn.

Beyond the Reef.

Waiting....

Stoned on the Hill

Above Solaris Hill

with the help of

old friends.