For further elucidation:
For further elucidation:
I awakened to dryness and the ferns were dead,
the potted plants yellow as corn;
my woman was gone
and the empty bottles like bled corpses
surrounded me with their uselessness;
the sun was still good, though,
and my landlady’s note cracked in fine and
undemanding yellowness; what was needed now
was a good comedian, ancient style, a jester
with jokes upon absurd pain; pain is absurd
because it exists, nothing more;
I shaved carefully with an old razor
the man who had once been young and
said to have genius; but
that’s the tragedy of the leaves,
the dead ferns, the dead plants;
and I walked into a dark hall
where the landlady stood
execrating and final,
sending me to hell,
waving her fat, sweaty arms
screaming for rent
because the world had failed us
On this fine Labor Day (“Happy Labor Day everybody!”) the media blackout on reality is even more creeptillian than usual. Seems like Europe is melting down with nary a mention:
Or maybe the newsies just needed a much-deserved break from faking being upbeat the last four years.
Evidently the people who update the Yahoo Finance page may be passed out on a cot too, because the same headline has adorned it since Saturday and here it is still, now, on Monday, Labor Day, with no mention of the europa flambeau:
I suppose they’re doing us a favor, really. What possible good can come of knowing tomorrow we implode financially- again- when you have guests over. That meat ain’t gonna grill itself.
Top tip: If you are unemployed and one of your guests is merely underemployed, poisoning their selection of meat won’t get you their job. You’ll have to interview first. Surely you do realize that ultimately it is going to go to the interviewer’s nephew anyway? So, don’t go there, it’s a waste of time, and meat, and it’s not class warfare if your attempting colleague-icide. One finding their self in that predicament could instead consider going on an all-expense five year staycation by going back to school, the Fred will even finance it, and you could live life like you were Thornton Melon reincarnated.
My sources inside the walls of the compound also tell me Bernank’s sex-elves are working faster and more furiously behind the scenes than usual, in order to assemble the most beautiful array of acronyms imaginable for the next Big Bailout (tentatively titled: The Big Bailout (who said the Fred has much of an imagination?)(What was TARP, chopped liver?)). Even the presentation- not fit for the likes of you or me, as we are mere debtards having been born into this in situ- well I am told it will be breathtaking. The Fred doesn’t use parchment and ink-jet printers- only goat hides (after a goat has been suitably chosen by the Chief after the usual thorough rutting) and ink from the blood of debtors will suffice.
There will be no gold leaf applied, for as you know that (publicly at least) Fred eschews gold, as of course it has no monetary value. But you best believe spelling and punctuation will, as always- and if you can count on anything in this entire fiasco you can count on this- be the very model of perfection.
Rest assured, your humble servant,