Thursday, September 24, 2009

Dharma Bums to Pharma Bums.

0716/1927 82/88 Blue Skies E10/15 75%H
DOGS 9739 610 1016 1695.

Greetings from the Hill.

A beautiful day in paradise,
classics in the president's room,
chimes ringing in the breeze,
ties and tits lying on TV,
cats fed and the oldman alive.

The gardens lovelier every day
from nightly rain and morning Tony.

"Too gorgeous a day to get mad
at the fools on CNBC,
it's golf day for the Fedex Cup,
15 Million deferred, hofuckingho,"
laughs the madone in a good mood.

Internetting with the foreign rags,
much more truthful in reporting
than on this soiled soil.

The great symbols of american status
all gone and going from the graft.

"Goodbye Caddilac, Hello Geely
at every Chinese embassy in the world,
the game is lost by the grifters,"
sighs the oldman recalling California,
little red books at Berkeley,
little girls with Mao infatuation
never imagining the outcome
of the revolution,
the marxist capitalist mixture
that would rule without weapons,
using ideas and originality
and the classrooms of Harvard,
Stanford, UofC, MIT, Yale...

"No American will invest where a dictator
can take his investment away,"
and now the 'free market' dictators
of Wall Street and Washington
have rendered the citizens'
pensions and healthcare worthless,
future obligations not payable,
no longer refinanceable,
DEBT defaulted.

Of course Golman Sachs invested
bailout money and 2009 profits
in Geely International,
communist profiteers,
"Money carries no flag,
certainly not the Goldman Gang."

Palm trees swaying in the blue sky,
an hour before tee time at East Lake,
classics and golf in the afternoon,
the oldman was lucky to survive
and contented to be alive
in these contengious times
where twenty million families
cannot pay their bills
while thirty golfers play
this weekend for first prize

Dancing contests in the depression,
dancing in the dark,
no mugging in the park,
stoned at home alone,
bean soup
without a ham bone...

They, They, They...
Who the fuck are They?

Lehman suits at JP desks,
Bear Stern ties
at Goldman computers,
Drexel derivative dames
now Washington commuters.

Pimps and whores
at WhiteHouse doors.

The Joker telling the youth
to strive beyond uncouth,
transparency and fake opaque,
the TRUTH and Babe Ruth.

In Clevland, an empty Ford factory
becomes a Roller Derby Palace,
the times are familiar
for oldfarts with memories
and the young still curious,
been there before
be there again,
those benefit packages promoted
by crooked unions conning
Joe Paycheck for deductions
to crooked politicians...
"All for a golden future,
a condo on the beach,
the hospital nearby,
a drugstore downstairs,
and insurance
for the loved ones...
unless Goldie Sox gets it,"
growls the oldman
at seventy.

the DEBT you have today..
is your grandfathers,
and your mother and fathers,
better get a snorkel.

The DEBT market, in olden times
the Bond Market before
the financial engineers
with fancy words
improvised from Greenspan
and Ayn Rand,
back to Objectivism
and the secret plot...
"Secure the loan
by spreading the butter thin,
make the jam synthetic,
sell the sandwich twice,
but keep it in the fridge,"
laughed the oldman.

The dilemma in the DEBT
was refinancing things that
were never repaid, only
carried forth by counterparty,
perpetual guarantees to pay
as long as insured by AAA.

The Day is now to Pay.

A sunshower before noon,
roosters crowing,
cats contented.

Inside the Reef,
Above the Horn.

1 comment:

Thomas said...

We enjoy your musings. Keep up the good work.