The Color of Title...perhaps clouded!

0730/1853 75/85 Light Clouds E 15/25 75%H.
DOGS 11132 8169 1328 2338. Libor 23. Vix 19.

Greetings from the Hill.

The oldman had another overnight treasure,
dreaming of a thirty year love
who hadn't aged a year...
"Just like Marilyn Monroe,"
laughed the madone
feeding Viola.

Absolutely amazing the mind
that travels and remembers
those voyages at night
and indulges the imagination
at first light...
alone.

Then plays 'Sunday in New York'
by Libby York.

Fantasies of a jazz pianist,
now an old blogist.

"Nero fiddled while Rome burned,
Obama cycled as the dollar is spurned,"
cackled Bill looking for a beer,
delivering salt to purify
the island's water
and do some fiddling
with his new love.

He was a Bush Ranger...
for two thousand dollars,
when a dollar was eighty five cents.

When houses were a million bucks.

"Soros is cornering the silver,"
going downstairs to turn on machines
in his woodworking studio
and agitate the oldman.

"Some people are counter productive,"
said Deak the Freak.

The breeze in the Keys
was now an afternoon wind,
full white clouds
speeding west
beyond the reef.

The afternoon opera from Havana.

"I have a gift,"
said Obama...
from Malcolm X and Jesse Jackson,
Farrakhan and Wright,
packaged by Harry Reid
for the Jackass Lead.

Pin the tail on the donkey,
the Comrader in Chief.

And Aines lives on the same block.

Lyndon La Rouche tells 'it' straight.

Imagine if there was a scheme
to destroy the american dream,
an elitist plot to enslave
the middle class,
those dreamers of something better
than what was before
black and white TV,
after Mustangs and Faxes,
then the cocaine age
and crack became the rage
for all the punks
underage...
big Pharma, the Dharma
pigging off MEDICARE, MEDICADE,
prescribing pills for the sick,
the weak of mind,
those caught
in the wrought
of DEBT.

"Build a better parade...
and they will come."

"It will be the best ever Fantasy Fest."

"Dream on Assholes!"

Sunday afternoon quiet streets.

The oldman was converting his cash,
protected by the Bank of America
into canadian silver,
keeping it safe
in his grannies' outhouse.

The big battle was about to begin,
the senile old fuck who caused 'it',
pimping for Bill Gross and PIMCO,
gaming against Bernanke,
shit talking for toxic bonds,
sequestered by Tiny Tim,
Mister Mandarin Man
going against the currency,
playing with the yuang
while shorting the yen,
not a fucking clue,
belongs in a zoo...
with pandas
eating kiwis.

"Change the Signs, Fuckers!"

Larry Fink has a bitchy wife,
so has Obama,
Larry looks after 3 Trillion private,
Obama 20 Trillion public,
then imagine the problems left
by black brother Raines
and MERS and MOM,
Country Wide and suicide,
the phony scheme of cash flow
when the Model was 2006,
follow Zillow
and sob...
Blackrock is the major shareholder
of Fucking BP.

Ride your bicycle.

Save corn.

Drink beer.

On the Road to Recovery!

0726/1859 74/82 Blue Skies NE10/15 65%H.
DOGS 11105 8256 1371 2439. Libor 22. Vix 19.

Greetings from the Hill.

Swaying palm trees and blue skies,
classics and talking tits,
the oldman on day four...
alcohol free.

The visit yesterday from Stephen
put imagination back in the brain,
planning a blog.

"Hey, oldman, how's the head,"
mocking the old pothead.

"Our luck is about to run out
in the financial markets
because of a gamblers' curse...
'We have won this long,
keep the money on the table',
the long term costs of a bubble
to the economy and society
are potentially great...
a reduction in savings,
a redistribution of wealth,
the diversion of financial
and human capital
into wealth acquisition...
I think it better to burst the bubble
before rising to stratospheric heights,"
Larry Lindsey FOMC '96.

"On that note, we can go for coffee,"
Alan Greenspan.

'The Creature from Jekyll Island'
G. Edward Griffin,
one of those books
like Quigleys'.

The strange thing about this SCAM
is the replays every decade
by the same players...
FED, IMF, WB, BIS
and investment bank agents.

A license to kill the prosperity
of a developed nation,
Asia, Brazil, Mexico, South Korea,
Ireland, Greece, Italy, Spain...
take your pick
of the pricks
who engineer currency derivatives,
raping and debasing countries
and now cannibalizing
it's own country...
Things that Vote.

A Corporation is a living Thing.

Does Obama really know
or is he a stand up comic!

"A Trillion is a thousand Billions,
a hundred Buffets and Gates,
don't ask Hedge Hogs,
'bill the middle class',
put 'it' on Uncle Sam's tab.

Maybe he's cute and dumb.

"Does anyone really know...
will anyone ever tell,
before the U$ goes to Hell!"
laughs the madone
feeding the cats Fancy Fest
and watering the oregano.

The curious thing about the predicament
is the absence of answers,
to the most simple of questions...
"Where was the flag on the Peak?"

Eight hundred thousand dollars
for a fixup dream in Key West
should have put a snap in the flag,
some barf in the bag,
an old cunt on the rag...
a bit beyond belief
even inside the reef.

The Bank loans the County
thirty Million dollars
for a new school for dunces
and payola lunches.

"What bank was that?"

"A Trick for a Treat!"

"Ahhh, you can't stop 'it',
the bureaucrats have the keys
to all the desk drawers,
politicians come and go,
an insiders game,"
snorts the madone,
ready for a walkabout...
the sky was feeling damp.

A backhoe and a gravel truck,
hard hats holding shovels,
blue hats on cellphones,
Toppino sucking off the city,
"New curbs for protection
of lawsuits," cackles the cuban
doing work the city should,
taking charges off balance sheet,
from Charlie to Eddie.

"Everybody works for Government,
city, county, state and federal,
pensions, healthcare, insurance,
benefits to bury the nation,
leaching from the system
that created government employees' unions,
scumsuckers of the earth,"
growled the madone,
he hated parasites.

"Now, that's noise,"
chuckled the oldman
as the cement saw
prepared with cuts
to remove a century old sidewalk.

Silence and Gustav Mahler from Havana.

The Conch Train talked to cruise shippers.

A break in the action.

Not yet midterm elections
and Obama lost his staff,
those brilliant minds
who would rectify
the 'Great Recession',
the Chicago Economic School
who couldn't figure out 'Flash Crash',
HFT's and Riskmetrics VaR,
MSCI and Morgan Stanley,
CME, hedge funds and counterparties,
Gregg Berman advises Geithner,
Madeoff is consulting,
Larry Fink is managing the Trust.

Beer sales are down.

Joe Fourpack has a frown.

Hillary Clinton made a nice speech,
at a Washington CFR meeting,
the powers that be arranging
for a new ticket as Biden retires,
Clinton moves from State,
Obama was always a one termer
and will go back to the Senate.

"The Clintons back on the Hill!"

Does anyone really know?

"What does a buck buy
for seventy five cents?"

The Debt, the Debt, the Fucking Debt.

It's only money, funny money,
simply an export commodity
that rots in the vaults
of exporting nations
so stupid to believe
in the american dream.

"Ha haha, laughs the Mandarin Man,
conversational educated in China,
Obama can't speak nigger jive,
nor Hillary russian,
that basic pragmatic mind
of one world order,
according to the Military Complex,
those Pentagon cubicles
with Microsoft programs
through Bloomberg terminals.

Plastic cards and no cash.

Food stamps and Visa.

"What about the drug dealers?"
and Mexican Wamu money
and Wal Mart transfers.

One might imagine an underlying plot
to this mystery of missing wealth,
this disappearance of asset value,
the avoidance of risk management
through the magic of derivatives,
an idea untried in money mathematics,
until the currency scam of arbitrage,
"Well, if the memory serves,
Japan was the point man in cheap money,
currency leveraged into MBS's,
and their banks went comatose
with their economy...
ZIRP with no burp,"
seeing the future.

The dump saps are falling
into the traps.

Above the Horn.

Within the Reef.

Partly belief.

MERS, MOM and 3808.

0723/1905 75/83 Blue Skies N 10/15 65%H.
DOGS 11006 8266 1347 2322. Libor 26/29. Vix 20.71.

Greetings from the Hill.
"
Another beautiful day on the Rock,
classics and Fox News,
blue skies and a breeze,
surfing in the Keys.

Dumbness seems to have infected
the blogging minds as nothing
new or original surfaces
above the political slime slick.

Curiosity seems at room temperature IQ.

The Obama Coverup with a Wall Street blanket.

"You gotta have white teeth
and talk while you're smiling,"
laughs the madone
mocking the media
and silly fat children.

"Summers has yellow teeth
and won't smile,
Timmy speaks mandarin
and loves Peking duck,
Bernanke is giving everyone a fuck,"
talking silly
on the balcony.

Barry is holding out on 3808,
putting 'it' in his pocket,
such a deceptive little twit,
pretending to the public,
sucking ass to Congress.

While corrupt congressmen
Cede to Mers and the DTCC.

Lying to the middle class masses.

"Elliot Spitzer knows the truth
and took Rick Sanchez's job,"
funny considering Rick's remarks,
mused the oldman always a fan
of his 'Miami man'.

Obfuscation, bifurcation
and fornication.

"That means your title is fucked,"
laughed the oldman opening a pint,
ruminating on past blogs,
Above Solaris Hill, the original,
Bush and the Bailout to
Obama and the Failout,
Fanny and Freddy
and Barney makes Three,
smarty pants Raines
with his derivatives brains
creating a market for MBS
branching with tranching,
inventing the clearing house
for refinancing.

"Who the fuck knows
who owns what,"
as the traitors traded
the newest innovative product
in financial engineering,
punks in suits with cellphones,
pimping for commissions.

"Real Estate will always go up."

Insured by death taxes.

An innovative form of derivatives.

Greenspan was crazier than Ayn Rand
and talked Objectivism,
or something like that...
confused the CFR.

America exported armaments
agricultural foodstuffs
and entertainment.

Wars, Toofu and TV reruns,
Rock and Roll died with records.

American made is a charade.

More kids die in a stupid war,
more middle aged are unemployed,
children are stupider and fatter,
heroes are zeroes.

No leaders in sight,
no brave souls to stop the flight
of equity theft by scoundrels
who have raped the symbol
of liberty.

Time to take the garden,
too much inside the head,
more american lies,
Columbus Day...

Sir John Gunn discovered America
in the thirteen hundreds
with his Templar mates.

Above the Horn.

Within the Reef.

Perhaps Belief.

"Put in another Parking Lot!"

0721/1908 74/83 Blue Skies NE 10/20 65%H.
DOGS 10942 8393 1358 2357. Libor 23. Vix 21.

Greetings from the Hill.

A beautiful day in paradise,
the oldman survived another battle
with the end of living...

"Fucking near fell over the balcony,
telling drunk tales all afternoon
and smoking the funny stuff,"
laughed the madone
always watching over.

The lady writer across the street
brought 'the brews'...
the painter the funny stuff,
Tony and Jake entertained,
hard to do but laugh
when the oldman was showing off.

That marvelous time of the year
when summer nights end,
"Assholes with airconditioning
would never know, will never."

Awakening at two for a blanket,
seventy five degrees
and a chill wind
from the north...
gusting trees
and noisy leaves
watching stars
from the balcony.

Hard to be distressed
in Key West.

Even Bill was smiling
finding a woman
to tolerate him.

Love at that age gives hope
and the promise of dreams
to long neglected
almost forgotten
"But 'it's' still
like bicycle,"
laughed Tony
off to photograph
a time in history.

Something very strange
was happening down deeper
in that current of subterfuge,
that flow of finance
that feeds the greedy sharks
and provides clean sheets for tourists.

"Who cranked up the Dream Machine,
then fucked the 'Golden Duck,"
laughed the oldman,
watched 'it' all,
the boom and fall,
each and every crooked lawyer,
all the phony politicians,
and promising developers
facilitated by the scum...
lying conniving bureaucrats
who hate and cheat the system
for a buck or a fuck...

Clerks and secretaries
who keep the secrets.

"Until the Mango is Ripe!"

"Key West is a forgiving town!"

"But everyone knows."

"Everyone in Key West is a believer...
they're always going to be leaving!"

The oldman had on his Adidas sneakers
and a custom golf shirt,
classics static from the wind,
tits talking on CNBC,
seventy five degrees at ten,
ideal weather.

A good day to make up stories.

The Hyatt, the Galleon, the Westin,
Jabours Trailer Park, the Vet's Club,
Schooner Wharf, the Half Shell,
the Mascot, the Big Fleet,
and Swinging Doors...
shrimp boats on Elizabeth Street.

"And some say that cocaine
is as easy to buy...
as Key Lime pie."

Broadcasted on all networks,
when Manny, Manuel and Bum
were all arrested.

Nose candy for queers.

Cheap flights to New York
and a bag to go!

Gentrify a conch house
and call 'it' a guest home,
pay 'it' off in a year,
as long as Cass is watching,
protecting, collecting.

Crooked, sleezy little town.

Three hundred petrified fruits
on an Eastern jet praying
to land safely...
no high rises yet.

Wolkowsky sold out on the beach,
the Cowboys bought Casa Marina,
great plans for Stock Island,
vacant islands in the harbor.

High school kids drove cadilacs
sported gold necklaces,
daddy had a shrimp boat,
then ChooChoo made hulls
for faster transport.

The Monster was the place.

Two Million Tourists
taking home a souvenir.

Operation Sunburn...
operation this, the fucking feds
wouldn't let be.

Outsiders snitched.

Protection went to jail.

The curse killed the fun.

Gays wanted a garden,
a granite table,
and a marriage certificate.

Monogamy without polygamy.

Smuggling slowly died.

Old houses got gentrified
and flipped every two years,
conchs were millionaires
on paper and at the bank.

MERS, MOM and Fat Fanny.

"Who the fuck is C Jae Heinberg,
one might ask of Capt H Hunt,
partaking at Dantes,
wondering about the parking lot,
Kings Point, Cortex, Keys Caribbean,
and thirty other fronts of
Feldman, Koenig and Highsmith,"
laughs the madone on the balcony.

Above the Horn.

Playing the flute.