Wednesday, October 15, 2008
Grab Your Fuckin' Toboggins...
...here it comes again. I'm gonna try hitting the jump at the end. You know, the one that launches into the thin ice covering the lake.
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A. K. A. Loose Canon
6 comments:
kill thy broker
I think I just got one of the fuckers in disguise: fuckin' fly zipping all around the living room this evening. I whacked it with a blue hanky against the radiator pipes. I don't know what to make of this. Maybe it's a sign.
A Sign of the Obamalypse?
Yes, mft, I will reply to that "yahoo" message by tomorrow night or friday morning.
Damn! Broker Fly is back, just landing on the desk with a heavy limp. I thought I blasted the bastard the first time. Broker Fly is back... wait. There it is. Limping all over the desk now. Hold on... ...okay. Got it.
If we're to draw anything from this, here's one interpretation: Fly Brokers are pesky bastards, causing us to swing wildly and, often, send lamps, flat screen televisions, and other shit crashing to the floor. But if we are patient, and only think before we swing, our strikes will ring true, and we can crush them and send these whorish speculators to a watery, toilet grave, and all without sending the markets into hysterical convulsions.
AA, sounds good. I eagerly anticipate your response. I'll try giving a ring this weekend, too.
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