Ten year thoughts on the Two Year Crisis.

0717/1920 80/88 Light Clouds E10/20 85%H.
DOGS 10860 7649 1297 2146. Libor 26/47.

Greetings from the Hill.

Blue skies in the morning,
showers in the afternoon,
a gardeners delight
but not a golfer's pleasure.

Strange to imagine that two years
have passed and things are worse,
far from the projections of recovery,
the promises of hope and change
from the cowboy on the open range.

A decade and back to where Bill left us,
fantasies by Treasury Secretary Summers
to eliminate the deficit in ten years,
a nation of prosperity and wealth.

"And look at us now," growled the madone.

"Dow down ten per cent, real estate twenty percent,
oil up one hundred and twenty five per cent,
Gold up five times from 275 to 1295,
silver almost four times to 21.20...
guess who got rich,"counting
his silver and gold.

In eight years Clinton left a deficit
of near six trillion dollars.

In eight years Bush left a deficit
of close to ten trillion dollars.

In two years the Obama Debt
will exceed fourteen trillion dollars.

With tax cash flow down twenty percent
and non working the same.

"Smoke another booger, Barry,
stay high in the highest office,
keep the brothers agitated,
but keep the benefits coming,"
growls the madone
disgusted with the hippie fairy.

Imagine if the fairy barry
had listened to his mother
rather than pretending in the underground,
Moma Tut worked for Geithner's dad,
studying micro economies...
something the both sons
are making America.

"It's all over, Asshole...
fucking finished, never a leader,
no World Champion rings,
an also ran falling each year,
to last place, the basement,
dragged down by incompetence
and corruption, the crooked bets
that lost the franchise,"
ranted the oldman
enjoying the Rays
and a new style of play.

Too many mysteries not uncovered,
a mother pregnant by a foreign national,
and not nineteen, too precocious and
a radical miscegenation fuckabout...
pissing off her parents,
"She never dated the white crew cut boys,"
confided a classmate.

So the half black barry fluent in muslim prayer
is ignored by the bad black bigamist dad,
who as an athiest marxist had high hopes
from the ministry of finance
to the PM's chair.

Once an Asshole...
always an Asshole.

Dies drunk in a ditch.

Could American Black Muslims
be whispering in Barack's ear.

"Renounce America and claim
your rights from a Kenyan father,
build a new nation,"
agitated Farrakhan at Daddy's funeral.

Guess what squirrel has the Acorns.

"Practice revolution in the neighborhood,"
suggested the white jewish instigators
who influenced the boy
who could never be black.

He lived in a mansion in Hyde Park,
walking distance to mentors,
Farrakhan and Ayers,
thanks to Resko.

Most african family blood is arab.

"But, who the fuck cares!"

"The land of Opportunity."

"Equal Lenders."

"How.s your score?"

Things seem to be great on the Rock,
beds filled, bars packed,
restaurants booming,
bed tax highest ever,
funds wasted on advertising
and executive reimbursements,
same scumshits skimming
and cooking the books.

The Spottswood family trying
to con the city by funding
their mega yacht harbor proposal,
"Hit the road, Jack."

Royally fucking up the Beachside
and 'the other side'.

Kiss your bank goodbye, bros....

The photographer was keeping the rounds,
capturing the denouement of waste
and collective bad taste.

Ironically Key West will survive
as a higher level of minds
will choose the weather and charm,
the familiarity of Lanes,
the treat of walking and cycling
without worry and fear.

More empty houses will become homes.

If the country is going to Hell,
one might best find heaven
in paradise.

How to penetrate the minds
of bureaucratic buffoons
who mismanage the city finances
seems an impossible dream.

Idiots who want to spend what isn't.

A 22 Million Dollar city hall
that will double by finishing,
a Memorial to Duncedom.

Living beneath one's means.

Soup and sandwich
in the garden
with a good book.

Above the Horn.

Inside the Reef.

And sometimes
within belief.