Summertime Madness.

0651/2015 82/88 Blue Skies SE10/20 70%H
DOGS 10424 7897 1189 1118. LIBOR .25.

Greetings from the Hill.

A beautiful day in paradise,
the oldman still crippled and housebound,
a morning walk up Love Lane,
the extent of exercise,
a battle against atrophy.

Five computers all WIFI,
"No drain to the brain,"
laughs the madone
enjoying a fantasy
come true.

The house was fully loaded,
prepared for the war
by the Street Cheaters,
the Middle Class Eaters,
FrankandDodds Deceit,
and Barry Obama.

Could the public be stupid,
the unwashed masses as ignorant
as the consuming cash cows
paying Citi thirty percent,
to avoid default and foreclosure
while Goldman bets on failure,
routing the game through
House Hedges, SLKHull, SigmaX,
AXE ECN....REDIPLUS...
Hofuckingho.

"What the fuck are ECN's,"
pissed with machines that only
the high and mighty could buy
and control the numbers
of billion share trading days
and own the clearing houses
of low life equities,
when the quadrillion dollar market,
those bets on bets on bets
in The WorldWide Casino,
Billy O'Brien, the newest snotfuck,
managing mafia of derivatives,
"Dream on whiteboy..Triads murder."

Fucking with the Chinese waters
playing wargames while losing
in Afghanistan, lost in Iraq,
quagmired at home...
another phoney commander in chief,
three cheats in a row
never a leader of men,
twenty years of talking fools,
money raising tools
for the trading traitors.

"Piss a pure patriot fucking off,
where's that Jim Webb,"
growled the oldman,
sipping a pint,
sucking a rollup,
raining outside, classics inside,
Lord of the Rings on TV,
Big Mac humming,
laptops on in the west wing,
the artist below
working on his paintings,
the house at home.

Thunder in paradise
with a light show of lightning.

Lightning, the cat, bounds into the bedroom.

"Who did this," wonders Tony,
tired of computer games,
the rain leaking on his TV,
his garden green.

"Bill Clinton and Robert Rubin,
Alan Greenspan and Wendy Gramm,
Larry Summers and Larry Fink,
Henry Kissinger and Pete Petersen,
Hank Paulson and George Bushes,"
laughed the oldman,
"and that kike from AIG and CFR.

All too much to understand.

Gambling against losses
when the faith has gone,
the hope a leaking boat,
the SS Obombus.

Believing in an unbeliever,
faith in a fraud.

Gullibles Travels.

And the oil leaks
and no one freaks.

Leaderless.

A rainy day in the Keys.








n a fantasy