Sunday, September 19, 2010

Who really is Barry Dunham?

0715/1926 80/88 Blue Skies E 10/20 80%H
DOGS 10607,7366,1275,2074. LIBOR .26 VIX 22.

Greetings from the Hill.

A lovely morning in paradise,
house empty and quiet,
but for classics and chimes.

The wood turner romancing his new love.

"With stories of unearned glories,"
laughed the madone watching
the painter across the street.

The oldman was studying the mystery
of the mystery of the President's Past.

"Such obvious connections but no thread,
the color of the cloth is red,
the fabric madras,
with no button holes,"
musing on the photos of a boy
who was destined to be different.

"Barry likes blue,"
suggested Stanley to Uncle George,
before leaving on another tour
of the microeconomics of Asia,
researching the future
of socialist capitalism.

Rumors of Momma's sexual propensities
drifted through the State Department,
but was fluent in Farsi
as well as mandarin,
"But a 'fellow traveler',"
accepted those in the 'know',
she was always free to go,
whenever...where ever.

"Now, Barry, I have to leave,
Gramps will take you to Washington,
promise me you won't take
any stolen watches from 'him',
I've told you how he 'is',"
leaving the boy on his own.

Jake, who just returned from Hawaii,
offered an insight...
"You know the rays are different,
they alter the pigment and change
a black man to yellow,
kind of...
and their pot thins out
baby fat!"

Looking at the photos,
little fatso lost weight
and got a color tint.

"And won the state championship
with a basketball scholarship
to Occidental College,
a hotbed of insurgents,"
growled the madone
who studied secrets.

"The problem is 'The Freedom of Information Act'
does not apply to Dunham Obama Sorieto,
more bizarre than 'The Manchurian Candidate'
and much more mysterious,
asshole and his 'executive order',"
grumbles the madone watching,
as the painter leaves at noon.

Twenty years of 'Law and Order'
invites curiosity to even the old,
a good mystery better with a body,
like the Clinton White House,
this grinning Jackass creates
economic genocide
and social chaos.

"Well, what about the time gap,
those years after a 'C' average
at Columbia between Harvard,
some say Momma knew Ollie North
and sent the sissy on a mission
to learn to be a man...
learn to hold a gun
rather than his pecker,"
always making up stories.

"Those who cannot build
become lawyers and bureaucrats,
counterproductive to growth,
creating loopholes of laws,"
mused the oldman wondering
about the Kingdom of Duncedom,
two years into the 'Crisis',
trillions of dollars lost,
on paper of course,
numbers on a rating report,
an index of an indice,
the value of the market
for a salable object,
a thing to pick up and hold,
a structure to rest one's head,
or a contract to trade
to the next sucker,
pixels typed on a tube
by a boob in a cube,
a trading traitor
where money is a number,
but the word is dollar.

"Holey Horse Fuck, take a walk
or buy a pickup truck,"
laughed the oldman,
his mood spoiled
with the return
of 'Lover Boy'.

A morning walkabout after church,
a stroll from the Atlantic
to the Gulf...
peaceful with the bars closed,
even the Poker Run bikers
not roaring the streets,
sunday morning in bed
with breakfast.

"A nation of sissies."

"Not Fancy Nancies."

"Straight Men who need Viagra."

Jeffrey's lady friend from
'Coral Gables' not 'Miami',
a social consciousness,
says the 'Beach'
and the 'Grove'
are dying
from lack of attention,
too many dark empty condos
not even rented,
the locals are fucked
having borrowed on equity
that no longer exists
and taxes increasing
increasing increasing.

Fat Randy's now very fat wife
took the walk finally,
big time in the Big House
for her crimes against children
and the school system
while hubby works for Bubba Swift
planning how to keep Ed
from bankruptcy
and the collapse of his empire,
thirty years in the making
'Daring to be Great'
emulating the man with the lisp,
Ed talked funny
and wore bracelets
when in Fire Island.

Two marvelous old ladies
went to heaven at eighty five.

A grand age to leave paradise.

"Silly but not senile,
sarcastic and witty,
but never cruel...
always demanding of something
'better than the last time',
an inspiration to strive,"
commented Amy who herself
has joined the club
of grey haired artists.

A painting is such a lovely gift
to pass on to the future,
the gift of teaching to those
talented enough to learn,
hands creating from sight
or the vision within.

Imagine if paradise had artists
solving problems and troubles
rather than corrupt politicians
and crooked cops...
judges making deals
for meals on wheels.

Above the Horn.

Inside the Reef.

Nothing Beyond Belief.

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