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
of FIFTEEN MILLION dollars.

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.

Boomerboy...
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.

Justice in Paradise.

0714/1927 83/89 Blue Skies E6 75%H
DOGS 9814 7218 1015 1717.

Greetings from the Hill.

A quiet friday in paradise,
cats sleeping, doves disappeared,
roosters nonrelenting,
Gregory Peck in a classic western,
fuck the CNBC agitators.

No tradesmen, no handymen
or illegal housecleaners.

Local commentors riled and outraged
over Judge Jones' sentencing
of Randy Wade Acevedo...
suspended school superintendent
by Governor Crist himself,
suspended with pay???
to pay the lawyer
but not his wife's,
the dear woman gave him five grand
of stolen school money
to support his reelection,
"Thanks kids."

A strange and dangerous apathy affects
the essence of the proleteriat expanded
to the lost middleclass...defeatists all.

"Who gives a fuck anymore, the system sucks,
from the city and county
to state and federal,
The American Buck buys the Fuck,
with a handshake and the clap,
the dollar hopelessly diseased,
each day dripping away it's health,"
snorts the madone wondering
if this central bank scheme
is as stupid as Greenspan's dream
of risk management
with derivatives
now contangled with gold and silver,
buyers buying promises
of hot air movement.

The Chinese reneging on the Fraud,
another financial engineering scam
from Lloyd and Jamie...
such clever fellows who manage
to steal whatever possible
from whomever gullible
through big check lobbyists.

Imagine the next cons...
Cap and Trade.
Privatization of freeways.
Securitization of insurance.
Corporate management
of Treasury Funds (already done)
and for all, regardless of age,
Citizen Debt Obligation Notes...
hohofucking ho.

"There are believers
and there are relievers...
so go shit yourself, it's over.
This asshole Obama has lied
to a nation of fools who want
to believe the lies, the dunces
who played the game of DEBT
within their own four walls
and now the basement
is flooding from toxic paper
clogging the drain...
is the insurance paid
for fire and flood,
a hurricane perhaps,
no more Fema checks,
the money is being used for
The Homeland Security Headquarters
on a hundred and eighty acres
within Whitehouse pissing distance,
Obama's personal embassy,
a dime store general,"
snorts the madone pissed,
hosing down a rooster.

This greed for ostentation,
the mask of image personified
by objects, a home, symbols of status,
a scorecard of social standing
in a community of realestate agents,
"Dip or flip, every two years,
onwards and upwards with Greenspan,
and then the little nerd...
until, Oh, oh, the smell of a turd,"
laughs the oldman
amused with the plight
of the mentally slight.

This Acevedo pair in foreclosure,
the Mayor, two commissioners,
the county tax collector,
assholes managing hundreds
of millions of dollars
mismanaging personal budgets,
"Put it on the card,
the government card,"
rape of the state,
bunghole Uncle Sam
and buttfuck Miss Liberty...
anything for MONEY,
"Maybe 'it' was the game shows,
everything deductible,
new cards in the mail,
Countrywide and Quicken,
Lehman suits around the world,
bundling those tranches
with AAA branches,
globalizing garbage
before the stink,"
mused the oldman
ready for a cold pint
at noon.

"These fucking asholes,"
steamed the oldman aggravated
with the property tax bill,
the Sheriff's budget up 30 percent,
School budget up 20 percent,
( Acevedo's embezzlement),
city up 10 percent,
total taxes up 20 percent,
market value off 30 percent,
out of the million dollar club,
the homestead exemption
got millrate trumped.

So much for balanced budgets.

"This shit is just beginning,
leaches in the hot tubs for fatso's,
buybacks for clunkers,
back to grandma's house,
memberships cancelled,
television and beer,"
shrugged the poor oldman.

Above the Horn,
inside the Reef,
overlooking
Soleris Hill.

Hands Talking in the Breeze.

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DERIVATIVES...FINANCIAL AIDS.

070 1944 2/90 Blue Skies SSE5/10 75%H.
DOGS 92 670 9652 1430.

Greetings from the Hill.

A beautiful day in paradise,
classics from Havana, lies from CNBC,
doves on the railings,
cats on chairs and roosters
crowing on every corner.

Back on the east side
after a week in the west bay...
change for the oldman.

Bermudagrass growing on the green.

Back to school and the Superintendent
"Guilty on all counts," reckons the jury
in but two hours, Bubba justice.

The wife facing serious time.

Florida's population actually falling
as homeowners flee north,
Key West with more empty homes
fewer children at schools,
"Then why the fuck are taxes up...
phoney appraisals continue and
mill rates escalate, more ripoffs,"
growls the madone,
pissed with cheats and liars,
bureaucrats covering their asses
and benefit free passes.

"The fucking government leaches
in sixty eight degree offices,
air conditioned cars and trucks,
perks for jerks, bucks for fucks,
buttholing Uncle Sam for more,
the revolving money door
to Ben's printing presses,"
mad at noon....
and the Millers man arrives.

The oldman watched another rerun
of 'House of Cards last night,
the story more understandable,
the treachery less tolerable,
the audacity of the senile fool
grinning over his Fed debauchery,
smoothtalking in Randisms,
confusing with obfuscation.

"Did derivatives create this predicament,"
questions the brave young man
to the wizard of financial engineering
who permited this monetary contagion
to infect the economic system
with an unregulated disease
of greed and debt...
Financial Aids.

Risk prevention against default,
insurance and protection
against infection
from dirty dollars.

"Hofuckingho, socialized medicine
will keep the dying longer
in drugged out states
prolonging divestiture of assets,
suck out the inheritence,"
snorts the madone
popping a cold pint.

The oldman wondered when 'it' changed,
was their a time that altered
the conventional wisdom of wealth,
a reason to buy without payment
up front in advance....
finance companies provided white goods
then furniture and carpets,
can anyone remember
the Diners Club card
and life after Lyndon,
the Woodstock Freaks became
bummers in Beamers,
hippies became capitalists,
greedy cowards at heart,
"I need, I want, I deserve,
I fucking I and of course me,"
the mantra of the generation.

Brand names and labels for assholes,
the beginning of something for nothing,
"Smuggle some coke, a free vacation,"
from Key West to New York,
the real gay revolution.

Keeping up with the Joneses
became keeping up with the Gays,
straights had queer haircuts
but didn't know 'it'.

"Maybe 'it' was the cunt's revenge,
all those years of oppression,
the lying, the cheating,
the stupidity of existence,"
considered the oldman
sipping the warming beer.

Talking tits blathering over Sheila Bair
and commercial real estate being
'the next shoe to fall', fucking assholes,
a big boot in the ass,
jerkweed morons flirting on screen
to an audience of gullible goons,
General Electric pitchpeople.

A phoney rollup of stock prices
for the vultures to rape rewards
then short the market down
"To Sixfucking Hundred,"
grumbles the madone,
the traders are traitors
living in a world of quadrillions
where a point is a billion.

"Totally out of control of comprehension,
mathematical models of blindmen,
multinational corporations gone global,
headquartered in New Jersey,
outside the rotten apple.

Bet on a bet on a bet and cover your risk,
hedge your hedge and insure
the counterparties through shorts,
'want to make a billion',
'don't flip your house',
acquire a liitle platinum,
a pocketful of titanium,
and a dash of plutanium,
lots of fresh water and
a pantry of canned goods.

The worst is yet to come.

Above the Horn.

Beyond the reef.

Hardly a breeze in the keys.

Forty years in the Shadows.

0706/1950 82/90 Blue Skies SE5/10 75%H
DOGS 9505 7028 9442 1460.

Greetings from the Hill.

Up early before a sunset walk,
the CNBC gang eulogizing Ted,
always the advertising for oneself,
idiots in the game of fame,
dating only their rating.

The oldman lived the dream of Camelot.

Santa Barbara in the fifties,
San Francisco in the early sixties,
those Kennedy boys with Marilyn
and the pimp, Peter Lawford.

A gracious young mother in the White House,
Jack's sluts sneaking in all doors,
even a Chicago mobman's mistress,
and always Barbra pulling his honk,
while Teddy took his chair
too young but 'so what',
Papa Joe watched over.

The young man had opened
his first golfcourse that november,
"Who the fuck shot Jack,"
wondered a stunned nation,
shocked and numb,
the beginning of media dumb,
Ford presides over 'the report',
whitewashing all,
the mafia and Castro,
the CIA and KGB,
Johnson and Nixon.

"Maybe 'it' was the hippies,
drug crazed revolutionaries,
undermining Camelot,"
said the warmongers.

Lyndon turned white and quit,
leaving Bulldog Bobbie to challenge
the invisible powers of war,
Teddy running a campaign.

The young man was president
of California Graphics Limited
when the blood flowed again
and black and white dreams
both ended with assasinations,
a nation in chaos.

Dark forces and trained killers
adding acid to the minds
of the dumb.

"Who killed Bobby and Why?."

Teddy never asked.

The middleaged man was married
with three children
living on a lake
smoking pot with Barry
when Teddy went off the bridge
and created the poster,
he was a poster king.

Nixon, Ford and Carter pass,
perhaps the curse as well,
could the drunk sober up and run,
at least stagger through the motions
of reliving the dynasty,
"No fucking way, a loser, a lush,
tar him with another brush,
refugees and amnesty,
eviscerate Intelligence,"
leftwinged liberal.

The patriarch of the family fortune
that no one seems to know about,
the bootleg fortune...
"Horror of horrors, the little boy
who saluted his dead dad
died....that fucking curse
that lets the worthless live,"
growled the madone recalling
that week ten years ago.

The Kennedy's couldn't take the Clintons.

Strange how these shifting dynasties
buttbacked by the Bushes
have brought down the House
of Uncle Sam by Uncle Tom.

By the Jewish House of Goldman.

By the Council of Foreign Relations.

By middleclass morons
believing beyond their means
and bankers providing
the DEBT.

Blue skies and beautiful,
hardly a breeze
in the fabulous florida keys.

Under the Table. Smoking Outside.

0705/1953 82/90 Blue Skies SE5/10 80%H
DOGS 9506 7235 9550 1410.

Greetings from the Hill.

A bit humid in paradise without breeze,
classics to the west, CNBC in the east,
cats on the railing, doves on the table,
the oldman pecking on the Toshiba,
was 'it' just another day...
"Or the end of the Recession."

Echoed the talking tits and twisted ties.

That little halfblack boy
is the most powerful man
in the world.

"Imagine fucking that,"
wonders the madone.

Of course who could believe that only one
might have such power to change
the direction of policy,
that one man could unite all americans
in many beliefs...
then suck up the banker's asses
with hedgefund managed reliefs.
"And this phoney health plan,
fake and pass, a jivetalking ass,
dead bodies fighting a drug war,
trillions of dollars and not one
major infrastructure project,
'it' is all about moving money,"
growls the madone
pissed with liars.

The oldman stretched and walked the balcony
looking down the hill to Bonny's,
empty since her death,
the matriarch of Soleris Hill,
the oldman's friend
since Ford was President.

Across the street,
Dead Ned's house was empty
and also for sale...
only for the ghosts.

The mansion up the street,
empty and now for sale.

"Two million too,"
snorted the madone.

The KCFedparty
at Jackson Hole portended redundance,
"The financial storm that reached
gale force this time last year...
( read a year ago hofuckingho )
has not yet subsided and it's effects
are becoming apparent in the form
of softening economic activity
and rising unemployment,
adding inflation and global commodity boom
creates the most challenging economic
environment
in memory."

"IN memorium, you asswipe,
you fucked up royally, should be fired,
but no, the Obumboy for the thirty jews
directing the CFR, applauds his fuckup
with reappointment for the higher plan,"
two pretentious academics quoting
melodious memories to a hearer
who listens not.

The most insidious tax of all unfolds,
a temporary guest who stays forever,
a relative with a trailer...
"Inflation for the nation,
cigarettes and booze state taxes,
dining and bedding next,
a fee, a charge, a billing,
the agents for the nation's
cashcows, those cash flows,"
spits the madone
at a rooster below.

Record keeping, the biggest lie of all,
"How much did you do today?"

A retailer cheating himself,
a wholesaler paying cash,
a manufacturer outsourcing,
the banker offshoring...
all crooked record keeping.

Enter another superstar from Canada,
this fellow from B.C. went east
to Bay Street and Wood Gundy,
then CIBC and TD, then Europe,
spun off his group to specialize in....
"Those fucking Derivatives."

The oldman had been watching Lance Uggla
since setting his secret little scheme
to become a leading provider of
independent daily portfolio valuation
and OTC derivative trade processing,
after all if your partners provide the info
to the world of billions you may go,
while recording trades in trillions,
within seven years, less than Bush,
a market exploding to 62TRILLION,
figure that number if you own
CDSindex, IIC, ITraxx, IBoxx, CDX,
ICE Trust,on and on....
so some smart fucker convinced
eleven of the biggest houses
to buy ownership
and provide information to
Mark It, now Markit,
fuck you, AIGFP.

Of course, of course, Off course,
what if the Big Lie got out,
imagine if all those dreamers
wanted to dream again
and found out the bankers
had gambled their trust
"And gone Bust, Haha."

"But 'it's all numbers, mere pixels
moving through an electronic world,
and what if some foreign spy
frigged the fuckwadder, but no fear,
the smartones are always near,
those California brains now have
'the Lossy Difference Aggregator',
that's Goldie Sox's alligator
diagnosing fine grain delays
and paquet losses through
hashbased primitive routers
one per million per second,
what a fucking relief,"
laughs the oldman
nearing the Truth.