Thursday, March 26, 2009
I Know. You Don't Know.
(5)
If I may be permitted yet a further observation: Political forces tend to operate behind the curve nowadays because of the incongruity between Law and the flow of information. In the old days when information travelled at the rate of the fastest horse, American Democracy worked. Elections were held at appropriate intervals. Presidents were elected every four years. Senators were elected every six years. Representatives were elected every two years. It all worked, more or less.
But nowadays we are saddled with an ancient system in the midst of an information mileau which travels at the speed of light. Our laws are ancient, whereas our technology is astonishing. The result is that the pathetic idiot GWB should have been ousted at the end of a one year term. But the Evil Republican politicians were able to game the system for three more years, then four more years after that! Barfalonius!
And the problem has not resolved itself with the election of a really intelligent (and glorious!) new president: Political Information continues in the form of endemic gossip, as TV shows like Hardball entertain us with weak information, more or less irrelevant. Wolf Blitzer expounds daily; Olbermann, Maddow do the same. Nobody seems to understand the problem, which is that American Democracy was made obsolete technologically: we live in an age where technology destroyed ideology.
Nobody knows that except me.
And now you know! Run with it!
I should mention at this point that I am a fan of all the Sunday Morning political shows, but that my current favorite is GPS on CNN. Absolutely Stunning!
Good night and good luck.
If I may be permitted yet a further observation: Political forces tend to operate behind the curve nowadays because of the incongruity between Law and the flow of information. In the old days when information travelled at the rate of the fastest horse, American Democracy worked. Elections were held at appropriate intervals. Presidents were elected every four years. Senators were elected every six years. Representatives were elected every two years. It all worked, more or less.
But nowadays we are saddled with an ancient system in the midst of an information mileau which travels at the speed of light. Our laws are ancient, whereas our technology is astonishing. The result is that the pathetic idiot GWB should have been ousted at the end of a one year term. But the Evil Republican politicians were able to game the system for three more years, then four more years after that! Barfalonius!
And the problem has not resolved itself with the election of a really intelligent (and glorious!) new president: Political Information continues in the form of endemic gossip, as TV shows like Hardball entertain us with weak information, more or less irrelevant. Wolf Blitzer expounds daily; Olbermann, Maddow do the same. Nobody seems to understand the problem, which is that American Democracy was made obsolete technologically: we live in an age where technology destroyed ideology.
Nobody knows that except me.
And now you know! Run with it!
I should mention at this point that I am a fan of all the Sunday Morning political shows, but that my current favorite is GPS on CNN. Absolutely Stunning!
Good night and good luck.
Wednesday, March 25, 2009
POP! POP!
(4)
And I could go on and on, of course.
Which brings us to the idea that Money is a 'zero sum game.'
Unfortunately I am a bit too drunk at the moment to do justice to the concept of 'money.' Tune in next week.
Meanwhile, I find myself worrying along with the Chinese that the US of A is attempting to reinflate a bubble which has burst catastrophically in a most appropriate manner. Clearly, the American economy has progressed since the mid-'90s into two distinct bubbles: 1) The Tech Bubble; 2) The Housing Bubble. The answer to the current crisis is not to try and reflate the previous bubbles! Market forces need to work over time to correct the problem. There is no quick fix. We need to endure the future. We furthermore need to understand that the game of Money is a zero sum game. We need to make appropriate laws in view of that fact. The current situation demonstrates conclusively that Unfettered Capitalism is EVIL.
Panty Socialism
(3)
Let us suppose, for the purpose of this blurb, that panties were a 'zero sum game' and that there was a social agency one of the duties of which was to ensure that there were enough panties to go around. In such a case my panty fetish would certainly be noticed by the local authorities. I would be visited by members of the 'panty appropriations committee.' They would interview me. They would determine that I possessed an obscene number of panties. They would point out to me that there were hundreds of women in the local community who had no panties and who as a result were naked beneath their skirts. They would then rightfully confiscate many of my panties and distribute those panties to needy local women. I would be condemned by locals as a 'panty pervert' and ostracised by my neighbors. I would be motivated to make amends by donating huge numbers of panties to needy women. My panty collection would be decimated. In the end I would eventually be left with only seven pair of panties. I would live with that. Nevertheless, I would suffer from the knowlege that somewhere out there in the world were seven unfortunate women who had no panties because I had the panties which rightfully belonged to them. I would be consumed by guilt and would die prematurely as a result. I would leave my entire panty collection to Kootch. But Kootch would have no use at all for size 14 panties, and would turn the entire stash over to the 'Panty Collection Agency of Arapahoe County' upon my death. The PCAAC would then turn the entire collection over to the...
Let us suppose, for the purpose of this blurb, that panties were a 'zero sum game' and that there was a social agency one of the duties of which was to ensure that there were enough panties to go around. In such a case my panty fetish would certainly be noticed by the local authorities. I would be visited by members of the 'panty appropriations committee.' They would interview me. They would determine that I possessed an obscene number of panties. They would point out to me that there were hundreds of women in the local community who had no panties and who as a result were naked beneath their skirts. They would then rightfully confiscate many of my panties and distribute those panties to needy local women. I would be condemned by locals as a 'panty pervert' and ostracised by my neighbors. I would be motivated to make amends by donating huge numbers of panties to needy women. My panty collection would be decimated. In the end I would eventually be left with only seven pair of panties. I would live with that. Nevertheless, I would suffer from the knowlege that somewhere out there in the world were seven unfortunate women who had no panties because I had the panties which rightfully belonged to them. I would be consumed by guilt and would die prematurely as a result. I would leave my entire panty collection to Kootch. But Kootch would have no use at all for size 14 panties, and would turn the entire stash over to the 'Panty Collection Agency of Arapahoe County' upon my death. The PCAAC would then turn the entire collection over to the...
The Zero Sum Game
(2)
The reason I woke up at noon today was that I was gassed and irradiated quite heavily for about 4 hours the previous night. Concerning tomorrow's snow, it will probably be lovely, but there will be no yum-yums in shorts running by on the Highline Canal Trail, and the tree swallows will find only a dish full of snow. So now what? I need a subject... something with an emotional connection... Aha! Money! Jews have (in effect) stolen some of my money. Time for revenge!
I begin with the observation that one of the Jew Madoff's yacht's was named, 'BULL.' I can't resist the intuition that Madoff's motive was intended to be descriptive in two ways: 1) The name described his 'basic market orientation.' 2) The name described his business. The name of the yacht was actually a 'double entendre,' and all who participated in his scam 'got the joke.'
This brings us back to the idea of money. When is enough, enough? Madoff had more money than he could ever spend; he had more watches than he could ever wear; he had more yachts than he could ever sail. Even I - paragon of moral behavior that I am - fall into that category of having too much: I have more panties than I can ever wear. I have hundreds of panties. I have a hundred or so that I have never yet worn! Will never wear! Yet I continue to buy panties. I can not seem to get enough panties. It is a pathology which is very obvious to me. I admit it. But 'panty fetishitism' is not a zero sum game. My purchase of a package of size 14 cotton panties from Wall Mart on thursday afternoon does not deprive some poor obese woman of underwear. There are more than enough panties to go around. Panties are ubiquitous. And cheap! I pay about $2.50 for a pair of new panties (I am not at all into 'used' panties).
But 'money' is a 'zero-sum game:' If I have it, you don't have it. Either-or.
The reason I woke up at noon today was that I was gassed and irradiated quite heavily for about 4 hours the previous night. Concerning tomorrow's snow, it will probably be lovely, but there will be no yum-yums in shorts running by on the Highline Canal Trail, and the tree swallows will find only a dish full of snow. So now what? I need a subject... something with an emotional connection... Aha! Money! Jews have (in effect) stolen some of my money. Time for revenge!
I begin with the observation that one of the Jew Madoff's yacht's was named, 'BULL.' I can't resist the intuition that Madoff's motive was intended to be descriptive in two ways: 1) The name described his 'basic market orientation.' 2) The name described his business. The name of the yacht was actually a 'double entendre,' and all who participated in his scam 'got the joke.'
This brings us back to the idea of money. When is enough, enough? Madoff had more money than he could ever spend; he had more watches than he could ever wear; he had more yachts than he could ever sail. Even I - paragon of moral behavior that I am - fall into that category of having too much: I have more panties than I can ever wear. I have hundreds of panties. I have a hundred or so that I have never yet worn! Will never wear! Yet I continue to buy panties. I can not seem to get enough panties. It is a pathology which is very obvious to me. I admit it. But 'panty fetishitism' is not a zero sum game. My purchase of a package of size 14 cotton panties from Wall Mart on thursday afternoon does not deprive some poor obese woman of underwear. There are more than enough panties to go around. Panties are ubiquitous. And cheap! I pay about $2.50 for a pair of new panties (I am not at all into 'used' panties).
But 'money' is a 'zero-sum game:' If I have it, you don't have it. Either-or.
It Could Have Been Worse
(1)
I'm back really early this week. I have various excuses which you may find more or less convincing: 1) Snow tomorrow. 2) Woke up at noon. 3) I'm no longer interested in the stock market, which is to say that I fired myself for poor performance. The first two are typical for me but the last needs a bit of eluc(stomp above me)idation (the stomp is probably Gerash's way of taking credit at least partially for my poor performance):
The entry below titled, 'Too Many Irish Washerwomans' pretty much describes what happened. At first my stock purchases were profitable. I made about 300 bucks. I got cocky and bought about 4000 dollars worth of various stocks, including 100 shares of General Electric. Soon thereafter they all headed South. I failed to sell for a modest loss. They all plunged further. My losses mounted over about two weeks. GE eventually closed at $6.66. One ignorant (Jewish?) prognistigator predicted that it would go much lower.
Meanwhile, my research into the stock market had become too much like work. (As a retired person I really dislike work. Really. Even when I was working I disliked work. Indeed, I have never liked work. Never. Ever. My life's motto has always been, 'If it ain't fun, don't do it.' This attitude was formed in me at the age of 13 by an ugly old nun at the orphanage. She was the cook. She heard me criticizing her chocolate pudding. She punished me by making me scrub her dormitory floor every saturday morning for the next two or three years. The job took me all of Saturday morning. All the other kids got to play except me. I hated the old bitch, and she hated me. She must have been about 80 years old. I think her name was, 'Sister Mary.')
To sum up, my emotional brain advised me that it would no longer tolerate all this stock market bullshit. My logical brain agreed that it could not eliminate the possibility that Judeo-Faggot forces (being gassed here!) were manipulating the market based on my stock purchases. I sold all and got out.
The market went up immediately, of course, leaving me in the dust with a $900 loss. Oh well.
I'm back really early this week. I have various excuses which you may find more or less convincing: 1) Snow tomorrow. 2) Woke up at noon. 3) I'm no longer interested in the stock market, which is to say that I fired myself for poor performance. The first two are typical for me but the last needs a bit of eluc(stomp above me)idation (the stomp is probably Gerash's way of taking credit at least partially for my poor performance):
The entry below titled, 'Too Many Irish Washerwomans' pretty much describes what happened. At first my stock purchases were profitable. I made about 300 bucks. I got cocky and bought about 4000 dollars worth of various stocks, including 100 shares of General Electric. Soon thereafter they all headed South. I failed to sell for a modest loss. They all plunged further. My losses mounted over about two weeks. GE eventually closed at $6.66. One ignorant (Jewish?) prognistigator predicted that it would go much lower.
Meanwhile, my research into the stock market had become too much like work. (As a retired person I really dislike work. Really. Even when I was working I disliked work. Indeed, I have never liked work. Never. Ever. My life's motto has always been, 'If it ain't fun, don't do it.' This attitude was formed in me at the age of 13 by an ugly old nun at the orphanage. She was the cook. She heard me criticizing her chocolate pudding. She punished me by making me scrub her dormitory floor every saturday morning for the next two or three years. The job took me all of Saturday morning. All the other kids got to play except me. I hated the old bitch, and she hated me. She must have been about 80 years old. I think her name was, 'Sister Mary.')
To sum up, my emotional brain advised me that it would no longer tolerate all this stock market bullshit. My logical brain agreed that it could not eliminate the possibility that Judeo-Faggot forces (being gassed here!) were manipulating the market based on my stock purchases. I sold all and got out.
The market went up immediately, of course, leaving me in the dust with a $900 loss. Oh well.
Friday, March 20, 2009
The Holocaust Excuse
(6)
NBC (Martin Fletcher) did an amazing report on NBC News tonight concerning Israeli war crimes. I was astonished! Whaaa..?! Why has Jew-controlled American Media recently done an 'about-face' on reporting Israeli war crimes? I think the reason is connected to the growing realization that American Jews are hugely responsible for the current money meltdown. I can tell you this, folks: ordinary Americans are slowly beginning to realize that the state of their family penis and the state of their family finances owe a similar alligance to Judaism. And they do not like what they see. They wonder Why Local Jews should still enjoy the 'holocaust excuse' for 'Jewish Sainthood' in 2009.
Nighty night!
NBC (Martin Fletcher) did an amazing report on NBC News tonight concerning Israeli war crimes. I was astonished! Whaaa..?! Why has Jew-controlled American Media recently done an 'about-face' on reporting Israeli war crimes? I think the reason is connected to the growing realization that American Jews are hugely responsible for the current money meltdown. I can tell you this, folks: ordinary Americans are slowly beginning to realize that the state of their family penis and the state of their family finances owe a similar alligance to Judaism. And they do not like what they see. They wonder Why Local Jews should still enjoy the 'holocaust excuse' for 'Jewish Sainthood' in 2009.
Nighty night!
Various Fuckery
(5)
You need to cogitate on my previous posts, and that will take time. So I will now waltz toward my first love, Truth (in the form of music in this particular case). This selection is morally related to our current situation by the title of The Thieving Magpie: our current situation is the result of massive Jewish theft. Prove me wrong if you can.
The movie cited above (A Clockwork Orange) also contained one of my favorite Beethoven themes, 'The Ode to Joy.'
I love the music, although I am indifferent to the theme of the film, which is suggestive of male homosexual buttfuckery. I am not at all into buttfuckery. I am, on the contrary, into cuntfuckery.
You need to cogitate on my previous posts, and that will take time. So I will now waltz toward my first love, Truth (in the form of music in this particular case). This selection is morally related to our current situation by the title of The Thieving Magpie: our current situation is the result of massive Jewish theft. Prove me wrong if you can.
The movie cited above (A Clockwork Orange) also contained one of my favorite Beethoven themes, 'The Ode to Joy.'
I love the music, although I am indifferent to the theme of the film, which is suggestive of male homosexual buttfuckery. I am not at all into buttfuckery. I am, on the contrary, into cuntfuckery.
The Jig is Up
(4)
Which brings us to topic number two. America is very, very pissed off. Most Americans understand that, at bottom, our situation is a financial situation. Many Americans understand furthermore that American Jews control Financial America: Jew=Money. Jews control Wall Street; Jews control media; Jews control the political process, using money; Jews control our medical system (check the nearest penis); Jews control our legal system.
Most Americans don't know how Jews attained to such control. Here is how: The vehicle by which Jews attained to such control is the European Holocaust of WWII. American Jews have attained to a position of 'sainthood' based on Hitler's Holocaust. Since 1945 nobody has dared to criticise Jews as Jews. Indeed, nobody dares to critize Jews for any reason whatsoever!
The result is that the Jewish Tribe now controls America, and that control extends even into your underpants: The Jewish god WHTZSNM lurks in your underpants, taking notes! The result is that your penis has been de-sensetized by circumcision. You are, in effect, an 'honorary Jew.'
Jews love it, of course, because they have been relieved of their endemic penis envy by your similar mutilation. They have convinced you that your circumcision is a healthier state. And you fucking idiots have believed it!
Goddam you're stupid!
But 'the chickens are coming home to roost:' Jews all over America are very nervous. 'Is the jig up?!'
Which brings us to topic number two. America is very, very pissed off. Most Americans understand that, at bottom, our situation is a financial situation. Many Americans understand furthermore that American Jews control Financial America: Jew=Money. Jews control Wall Street; Jews control media; Jews control the political process, using money; Jews control our medical system (check the nearest penis); Jews control our legal system.
Most Americans don't know how Jews attained to such control. Here is how: The vehicle by which Jews attained to such control is the European Holocaust of WWII. American Jews have attained to a position of 'sainthood' based on Hitler's Holocaust. Since 1945 nobody has dared to criticise Jews as Jews. Indeed, nobody dares to critize Jews for any reason whatsoever!
The result is that the Jewish Tribe now controls America, and that control extends even into your underpants: The Jewish god WHTZSNM lurks in your underpants, taking notes! The result is that your penis has been de-sensetized by circumcision. You are, in effect, an 'honorary Jew.'
Jews love it, of course, because they have been relieved of their endemic penis envy by your similar mutilation. They have convinced you that your circumcision is a healthier state. And you fucking idiots have believed it!
Goddam you're stupid!
But 'the chickens are coming home to roost:' Jews all over America are very nervous. 'Is the jig up?!'
We all love hardwood floors
(3)
The other important lesson, and perhaps the most important lesson of all, is the Societal Lesson: reject all plea bargains and insist on trial. If every innocent party adopted this defiant attitude toward the Jew-dominated legal system, our society would evolve much faster as Jewish domination declined. That would be a good thing.
Continuing with personal history, it eventually dawned on me that 'they' could see me as well as hear me, and I initiated my 'Training Day' ritual using the 357. 'They' responded during the mid '00s by installing a hardwood floor on top of the plywood floor. The result is that 'they' can feel more secure against my 357 solid slugs. The downside, of course, is that 'they' are less able to shatter my equanimity by stomps: the 'fix' works both ways. I should make it clear that Nobody but Kootch and I knew of my 357 and the solid slugs. The faggot bastards upstairs could only have known by eavesdropping visually and audiologically.
Which brings us to today. Is the choice of a woman and child more defensive, or more enticing? Is the faggot Gerash hiding behind a woman and child, or does the old faggot hope to lure me into 'presenting' my behavior to a young woman. My guess is, both. It would not be the first time that a circumcised terrorist hid behind women and children. Nor would it be the first time that Gerash has tried to convince me that I was being watched by a member of the opposite sex.
The other important lesson, and perhaps the most important lesson of all, is the Societal Lesson: reject all plea bargains and insist on trial. If every innocent party adopted this defiant attitude toward the Jew-dominated legal system, our society would evolve much faster as Jewish domination declined. That would be a good thing.
Continuing with personal history, it eventually dawned on me that 'they' could see me as well as hear me, and I initiated my 'Training Day' ritual using the 357. 'They' responded during the mid '00s by installing a hardwood floor on top of the plywood floor. The result is that 'they' can feel more secure against my 357 solid slugs. The downside, of course, is that 'they' are less able to shatter my equanimity by stomps: the 'fix' works both ways. I should make it clear that Nobody but Kootch and I knew of my 357 and the solid slugs. The faggot bastards upstairs could only have known by eavesdropping visually and audiologically.
Which brings us to today. Is the choice of a woman and child more defensive, or more enticing? Is the faggot Gerash hiding behind a woman and child, or does the old faggot hope to lure me into 'presenting' my behavior to a young woman. My guess is, both. It would not be the first time that a circumcised terrorist hid behind women and children. Nor would it be the first time that Gerash has tried to convince me that I was being watched by a member of the opposite sex.
Never Again!
(2)
I was still young and naive back in those days. The cops arrived. I tried to explain to them that my primary motive was to make the sucker aware that he was being 'set up' by the person who was stalking me. That person was attempting to provoke me into to putting a bullet up his faggot ass through the plywood floor. But the cops were not interested in my motivation: 'Do you have a 38?' 'Um, yes.' 'May we see it?' I went into the bedroom and retrieved it from beneath my pillow. They confiscated the weapon and arrested me. They took me to jail. I was mugshotted and fingerprinted. I was later shipped downtown to the psycho ward. The idiots at the psycho ward did a 3-day observation, then determined that I was neither suicidal nor homicidal. I was released. What an education! I was charged with a crime. I pleaded, 'Not guilty.' The judge demanded that I divest myself of my only protection, my 38. I sold it. I also had to give up my old 12 gage single barrel rabbit killer. I was without protection for several months. I told the DA that I intended to defend myself. I subpoenaed Walter Gerash, among several others. I was very pissed off. I learned the rudiments of trial proceedings.
The faggot moved out soon after my 'not guilty' plea, and failed to show up for trial. My case was dismissed. It was a revelation! Fight the bastards and they will fold!
I used that principle again in the late '90s: charged with yet another crime against the creeps upstairs I pleaded 'not guilty' once again and prepared to fight. Again the creepy bastards moved out never to be heard from again, and the case against me was dismissed. And never again will I accept a 'plea bargain.'
I bought a 357 Magnum to replace the 38. I let the cops keep my old rabbit killer. I bought solid slugs (instead of hollow points) for my new 357 because I wanted to maximize my chances of putting a bullet up a faggot ass through an inch and a half of plywood.
I was still young and naive back in those days. The cops arrived. I tried to explain to them that my primary motive was to make the sucker aware that he was being 'set up' by the person who was stalking me. That person was attempting to provoke me into to putting a bullet up his faggot ass through the plywood floor. But the cops were not interested in my motivation: 'Do you have a 38?' 'Um, yes.' 'May we see it?' I went into the bedroom and retrieved it from beneath my pillow. They confiscated the weapon and arrested me. They took me to jail. I was mugshotted and fingerprinted. I was later shipped downtown to the psycho ward. The idiots at the psycho ward did a 3-day observation, then determined that I was neither suicidal nor homicidal. I was released. What an education! I was charged with a crime. I pleaded, 'Not guilty.' The judge demanded that I divest myself of my only protection, my 38. I sold it. I also had to give up my old 12 gage single barrel rabbit killer. I was without protection for several months. I told the DA that I intended to defend myself. I subpoenaed Walter Gerash, among several others. I was very pissed off. I learned the rudiments of trial proceedings.
The faggot moved out soon after my 'not guilty' plea, and failed to show up for trial. My case was dismissed. It was a revelation! Fight the bastards and they will fold!
I used that principle again in the late '90s: charged with yet another crime against the creeps upstairs I pleaded 'not guilty' once again and prepared to fight. Again the creepy bastards moved out never to be heard from again, and the case against me was dismissed. And never again will I accept a 'plea bargain.'
I bought a 357 Magnum to replace the 38. I let the cops keep my old rabbit killer. I bought solid slugs (instead of hollow points) for my new 357 because I wanted to maximize my chances of putting a bullet up a faggot ass through an inch and a half of plywood.
38 Bait
(1)
Welcome to Spring! Good news and bad news: 'good news' is that I'm back earlier than usual on a friday because of the 'bad news' that I am sleep-deprived after much gas and radiation last night. I blame myself partially for staying up 'til 2345 playing C-III: '(Rad, Gas 0000-0100, o530-0700) Up at 0700.' I need to remember to allow for 12 hours in bed on thursday nights.
In keeping with my new format of listing the subjects to be discussed:
----------
1. Hardwood floors
2. Gas and burn?
----------
To continue with the previous post titled, 'Training Day,' I have concluded that two of the new tenants above are a young woman and her (approximately) 3-year old child. Those two are part of the fascade. The woman seems to have a husband or boyfriend who has yet to be visually identified. That person is probably the replacement for the queer who moved out last month. The woman and child were quite 'prominent' at the beginning but have since faded somewhat in that respect. Meanwhile nothing much has changed: there are still at least two of them up there most of the time, and the gas/radiation routine continues much the same as before.
By the way, my 'newbie initiation routine' with the revolver began back in the early '00s when I first suspected that 'they' could see me. I had made an unfortunate attempt in the mid '90s to warn the faggot upstairs that he was '38 bait' with disasterous results: after many months of me calling the sucker '38 bait' I accosted him in the hallway and told him, 'You are 38 bait.' The idea was to warn him that stomping around up there was not a good idea given the fact that the only thing separating us was a plywood floor and that I was armed with a 38 caliber revolver. He called the cops of course, according to plan.
Welcome to Spring! Good news and bad news: 'good news' is that I'm back earlier than usual on a friday because of the 'bad news' that I am sleep-deprived after much gas and radiation last night. I blame myself partially for staying up 'til 2345 playing C-III: '(Rad, Gas 0000-0100, o530-0700) Up at 0700.' I need to remember to allow for 12 hours in bed on thursday nights.
In keeping with my new format of listing the subjects to be discussed:
----------
1. Hardwood floors
2. Gas and burn?
----------
To continue with the previous post titled, 'Training Day,' I have concluded that two of the new tenants above are a young woman and her (approximately) 3-year old child. Those two are part of the fascade. The woman seems to have a husband or boyfriend who has yet to be visually identified. That person is probably the replacement for the queer who moved out last month. The woman and child were quite 'prominent' at the beginning but have since faded somewhat in that respect. Meanwhile nothing much has changed: there are still at least two of them up there most of the time, and the gas/radiation routine continues much the same as before.
By the way, my 'newbie initiation routine' with the revolver began back in the early '00s when I first suspected that 'they' could see me. I had made an unfortunate attempt in the mid '90s to warn the faggot upstairs that he was '38 bait' with disasterous results: after many months of me calling the sucker '38 bait' I accosted him in the hallway and told him, 'You are 38 bait.' The idea was to warn him that stomping around up there was not a good idea given the fact that the only thing separating us was a plywood floor and that I was armed with a 38 caliber revolver. He called the cops of course, according to plan.
Friday, March 13, 2009
The Investigation Continues...
(7)
Time to wrap this up: Kootch is sleeping; Judeo-Faggot Forces are silent; I appear to be alone. Not so, of course. My (tap) world has been strangely silent recently except for the previously documented tap. And so I will sign off until next week. Meanwhile I am investigating my new neighbors and have already come up with significant evidence...
Nighty night!
Time to wrap this up: Kootch is sleeping; Judeo-Faggot Forces are silent; I appear to be alone. Not so, of course. My (tap) world has been strangely silent recently except for the previously documented tap. And so I will sign off until next week. Meanwhile I am investigating my new neighbors and have already come up with significant evidence...
Nighty night!
Wet Panties
(6)
Whoa! God has become technologically aware?! Ahead of The Republicans?! I am impressed! That would seem to follow, of course... Hmmm...
Tonight's 'last chance' is the Mexican Meltdown which has resulted from the 'War on Drugs.' My advice: Legalize it and tax/regulate it. You are all such fucking idiots! Damn you're stupid! You will never learn...
I offer this visual in support of my thesis: You blame the poor woman because you think that she should be more like you.
You are wrong, as usual.
The photo is quite 'fetishistic,' of course, and more people are into 'fetishism' than you know. So are you. I claim that less than ten percent of humans are not 'fetishistic.' Prove me wrong if you can.
Bernie Maddoff
(5)
Fun news today is that Bernie Maddoff has gone to jail. This fact has served to unify a huge international population including Americans, Christians, Jews, Muslims, Democrats, Republicans, Blacks, Hispanics, Asians, Jews, Catholics, Italians, Irish, French, Jews, Germans, Russians, Mexicans, Canadians, Jews, Australians, Pakistanis, Indians, Jews, Japanese, Chinese, British, Spanish, Vietnamese, Jews, Brazilians, Jews, Argentinians, South Africans, Israelis, Jews, Egyptians, Syrians, Zimbabians, Afghanistanians, Chileans, Bolivians, Jews, rapists, detectives, police officers, Jews, and Politicians. I could go on and on, of course, and maybe I will. Later.
But I find myself at the present moment longing to contact the Jewish God WHTZSNM yet one more time. The subject is a recent stunning revelation on national TV titled, 'Great Sex God's Way.' Seems a local preacher has been able to significantly increase market share with the quoted theme. I wondered what God's take on the matter might be. I dialed 666 on the Brown Telephone and extended the antenna. God answered immediately:
----------
gd: Hello?
me: Me again. Can You tell me what You might mean by the phrase, 'great sex?'
gd: Why do you ask?
me: A contemporary preacher has begun preaching the idea that You might like sex.
gd: Bullshit. Do you have a name for me?
me: Not at the moment.
gd: You connected to the internet at the moment?
me: Yes...
gd: Do a Google Search on 'great sex.'
me: Done.
gd: Is the bastard's name, Jerry Lawson?
me: Maybe, maybe not. You tell me.
gd: Thank you for the information. I think we might be able to work together in the future.
me: You are 'computer literate!?'
gd: Call me next week. (hangs up)
Fun news today is that Bernie Maddoff has gone to jail. This fact has served to unify a huge international population including Americans, Christians, Jews, Muslims, Democrats, Republicans, Blacks, Hispanics, Asians, Jews, Catholics, Italians, Irish, French, Jews, Germans, Russians, Mexicans, Canadians, Jews, Australians, Pakistanis, Indians, Jews, Japanese, Chinese, British, Spanish, Vietnamese, Jews, Brazilians, Jews, Argentinians, South Africans, Israelis, Jews, Egyptians, Syrians, Zimbabians, Afghanistanians, Chileans, Bolivians, Jews, rapists, detectives, police officers, Jews, and Politicians. I could go on and on, of course, and maybe I will. Later.
But I find myself at the present moment longing to contact the Jewish God WHTZSNM yet one more time. The subject is a recent stunning revelation on national TV titled, 'Great Sex God's Way.' Seems a local preacher has been able to significantly increase market share with the quoted theme. I wondered what God's take on the matter might be. I dialed 666 on the Brown Telephone and extended the antenna. God answered immediately:
----------
gd: Hello?
me: Me again. Can You tell me what You might mean by the phrase, 'great sex?'
gd: Why do you ask?
me: A contemporary preacher has begun preaching the idea that You might like sex.
gd: Bullshit. Do you have a name for me?
me: Not at the moment.
gd: You connected to the internet at the moment?
me: Yes...
gd: Do a Google Search on 'great sex.'
me: Done.
gd: Is the bastard's name, Jerry Lawson?
me: Maybe, maybe not. You tell me.
gd: Thank you for the information. I think we might be able to work together in the future.
me: You are 'computer literate!?'
gd: Call me next week. (hangs up)
Capitalism Gone Apeshit
(4)
Before going further into inebriated territory I want mention my admiration for the way the current administration has been maneuvering in the current political mileau. And I loved the Republican Meltdown recently. Way to go! Ya gotta love Rash Limbo if you're any kinda rationalist at all. What a glorious idiot!
O'Bama has been criticised recently for trying to do too much too soon, by political forces who are obviously hungover from 8 years of 'W' who could barely put one word in front of another. I disagree, of course. I continue to see O'Bama as the right man at the right time in a world crisis which was created by Capitalism Gone Apeshit, courtesy of an American Jewish Establishment which became totally out of control. O'Bama is a political multi-tasker at a time when we all need intelligence and competence and pragmatism. One of the many rule changes needed at this time in our national crisis is the restoration of the 'up-tick rule' in stock market operations which would prohibit wanton 'short selling' by 'hedge funds' intent on market manipulation. Restoration of the 'up-tick rule' should have teeth in it in the form of a percentage of the current stock price of the equity in question. Jews and Republicans have had their way for too long, and the result of their greed has led us all to where we are now. We need to restore democracy to the stock market. Tyranny doesn't work. Quote me if you dare!
The lesson to be learned from all this is that Unfettered Capitalism is ultimately self-destructive. 'Greed is good' only up to a point. Capitalism without Humanism eventually self-destructs. Therefore we need to modify the rules in such a way that those antithetical values can co-exist in a modern fast-changing culture. Begin by re-instating Glass-Segal.
But what the fuck would I know?
Before going further into inebriated territory I want mention my admiration for the way the current administration has been maneuvering in the current political mileau. And I loved the Republican Meltdown recently. Way to go! Ya gotta love Rash Limbo if you're any kinda rationalist at all. What a glorious idiot!
O'Bama has been criticised recently for trying to do too much too soon, by political forces who are obviously hungover from 8 years of 'W' who could barely put one word in front of another. I disagree, of course. I continue to see O'Bama as the right man at the right time in a world crisis which was created by Capitalism Gone Apeshit, courtesy of an American Jewish Establishment which became totally out of control. O'Bama is a political multi-tasker at a time when we all need intelligence and competence and pragmatism. One of the many rule changes needed at this time in our national crisis is the restoration of the 'up-tick rule' in stock market operations which would prohibit wanton 'short selling' by 'hedge funds' intent on market manipulation. Restoration of the 'up-tick rule' should have teeth in it in the form of a percentage of the current stock price of the equity in question. Jews and Republicans have had their way for too long, and the result of their greed has led us all to where we are now. We need to restore democracy to the stock market. Tyranny doesn't work. Quote me if you dare!
The lesson to be learned from all this is that Unfettered Capitalism is ultimately self-destructive. 'Greed is good' only up to a point. Capitalism without Humanism eventually self-destructs. Therefore we need to modify the rules in such a way that those antithetical values can co-exist in a modern fast-changing culture. Begin by re-instating Glass-Segal.
But what the fuck would I know?
The Art of the Fart
(3)
Another 'advantage' of being watched and listened-to on a 24/7 basis is that I get to insult my audience at will, and I take advantage of that from time to time, though not excessively. For example, I've discovered that they use amplifiers in an attempt to detect even the (Kootch just advised me that 'potato salad is done.' Good girl!) most barely audible mutterings - I am an habitual 'out loud thinker.' These amplifiers must be of the 'noise-canceling' type, because even though my 'under breath' auditory musings are done in a noisy mileau (noisy air-cleaner in operation), my barely audible musings are often responded to. I presume that the purpose of such revelations is to suggest that even my thoughts are accessible. (I have tested that hypotheses and found it wanting.) Anyways, Knowing that any sounds in my room are amplified in the earphones (presumably) of some Judeo-Faggot Turkey observing from above, I have developed what I call, 'the art of the fart:' That is to say, I have become very profficient at the art of 'flatulence sonics.' That is to say that I have learned how to produce a really mean-sounding fart. I love to imagine the consternation produced in my hapless listener at having to listen to a sudden obscene noisy rectal exhalation. I do it as often as I can, of course, especially at night. I also add as much auditory embellishment as possible to belches during daytime, the guiding principle of both being that the listener is invariably 'grossed out' while the perpetrator is, under certain circumstances, Quite pleased.
Another 'advantage' of being watched and listened-to on a 24/7 basis is that I get to insult my audience at will, and I take advantage of that from time to time, though not excessively. For example, I've discovered that they use amplifiers in an attempt to detect even the (Kootch just advised me that 'potato salad is done.' Good girl!) most barely audible mutterings - I am an habitual 'out loud thinker.' These amplifiers must be of the 'noise-canceling' type, because even though my 'under breath' auditory musings are done in a noisy mileau (noisy air-cleaner in operation), my barely audible musings are often responded to. I presume that the purpose of such revelations is to suggest that even my thoughts are accessible. (I have tested that hypotheses and found it wanting.) Anyways, Knowing that any sounds in my room are amplified in the earphones (presumably) of some Judeo-Faggot Turkey observing from above, I have developed what I call, 'the art of the fart:' That is to say, I have become very profficient at the art of 'flatulence sonics.' That is to say that I have learned how to produce a really mean-sounding fart. I love to imagine the consternation produced in my hapless listener at having to listen to a sudden obscene noisy rectal exhalation. I do it as often as I can, of course, especially at night. I also add as much auditory embellishment as possible to belches during daytime, the guiding principle of both being that the listener is invariably 'grossed out' while the perpetrator is, under certain circumstances, Quite pleased.
Training Day
(2)
Whenever somebody new moves in upstairs there is always a period of time during which the new tenants are 'trained' in the art and practice of harrassment. Such training includes but is not limited to:
1) Observation (a. watching, b. listening)
2) Communication (a. taps, b. wall bumps, c. stomps, etc.)
3) Harrassment Techniques (a. gas dispensation, b. radiation management)
4) Other
Training stresses that the subject must feel observed 24/7, and that auditory and sensual techniques are the primary means of reinforcing the desired awareness. The subject must rarely be allowed to feel moments of privacy. The 'other' category includes such elements as, timing, situational awareness, relative risks, rescources, etc. Training is extensive for the first two weeks or so, as the surrogates (accomplices) become proficient. This is the period we are now enduring. I call it 'Training Day,' after the well-known movie of that name.
But as the 'other' in this eternal tete' a tete' I get to do a little training myself: Knowing that the newbies can both see me and hear me I begin with the worst-case scenerio, me killing the dumb bastards. Lesson one is my .357 Magnum. When I am sure I have their undivided attention very early on, I bring the .357 into the LR. As they watch me, I unload the weapon. I put the huge slugs on the table. I then open the gun-cleaning kit. I pull out the oily rag therein, and lovingly clean each of the giant rounds (with solid slugs) using the oily rag. I then lovingly wipe the huge revolver using the oily rag. I then check the bore the way they taught me to do many years ago in the USAF: look down the barrel with your thumbnail positioned in the breach to reflect light. Is it clean? Then I give the inside of the barrel a 'wipe' with a cleaning patch. I then lovingly reinsert the six giant catridges back into my beautiful and sexy sidekick.
My lawer (if I had a lawyer) would certainly advise me not to describe what I do next, so I will leave that to your collective imagination. Suffice it to say that 'the newbies' who might have witnessed the ritual got a certain 'education' which was not on the original Judeo-Faggot agenda.
Whenever somebody new moves in upstairs there is always a period of time during which the new tenants are 'trained' in the art and practice of harrassment. Such training includes but is not limited to:
1) Observation (a. watching, b. listening)
2) Communication (a. taps, b. wall bumps, c. stomps, etc.)
3) Harrassment Techniques (a. gas dispensation, b. radiation management)
4) Other
Training stresses that the subject must feel observed 24/7, and that auditory and sensual techniques are the primary means of reinforcing the desired awareness. The subject must rarely be allowed to feel moments of privacy. The 'other' category includes such elements as, timing, situational awareness, relative risks, rescources, etc. Training is extensive for the first two weeks or so, as the surrogates (accomplices) become proficient. This is the period we are now enduring. I call it 'Training Day,' after the well-known movie of that name.
But as the 'other' in this eternal tete' a tete' I get to do a little training myself: Knowing that the newbies can both see me and hear me I begin with the worst-case scenerio, me killing the dumb bastards. Lesson one is my .357 Magnum. When I am sure I have their undivided attention very early on, I bring the .357 into the LR. As they watch me, I unload the weapon. I put the huge slugs on the table. I then open the gun-cleaning kit. I pull out the oily rag therein, and lovingly clean each of the giant rounds (with solid slugs) using the oily rag. I then lovingly wipe the huge revolver using the oily rag. I then check the bore the way they taught me to do many years ago in the USAF: look down the barrel with your thumbnail positioned in the breach to reflect light. Is it clean? Then I give the inside of the barrel a 'wipe' with a cleaning patch. I then lovingly reinsert the six giant catridges back into my beautiful and sexy sidekick.
My lawer (if I had a lawyer) would certainly advise me not to describe what I do next, so I will leave that to your collective imagination. Suffice it to say that 'the newbies' who might have witnessed the ritual got a certain 'education' which was not on the original Judeo-Faggot agenda.
Happy Friday
(1)
Re-reading the previous series just now for the first time I can tell you that I remembered all but the last post. I knew when I got out of bed Saturday afternoon with a heavy hangover that I must have drunk way too much, and when I found my whiskey glass next to the computer I was not surprised. That last post must have been created after a double serving of Diet Pepsi and Canadian Mist.
Recent experience indicates that I should return to my previous practice of listing my intended subjects in advance. The inebriation process definitely (being gassed here - unusual while I'm blogging - and Mister Tap-Tap is active too, as usual) disorganizes my agenda and some intended subjects end up in the circular file, so to say. So here it is:
----------
Re-reading the previous series just now for the first time I can tell you that I remembered all but the last post. I knew when I got out of bed Saturday afternoon with a heavy hangover that I must have drunk way too much, and when I found my whiskey glass next to the computer I was not surprised. That last post must have been created after a double serving of Diet Pepsi and Canadian Mist.
Recent experience indicates that I should return to my previous practice of listing my intended subjects in advance. The inebriation process definitely (being gassed here - unusual while I'm blogging - and Mister Tap-Tap is active too, as usual) disorganizes my agenda and some intended subjects end up in the circular file, so to say. So here it is:
----------
- Training Day
- O'Bama Style Multi-Tasking
- Capitalism Gone Apeshit
- Great Sex God's Way
- Maddoff Goes to Jail
- Shoe-Thrower gets 3 Years
- Mexico on the Brink
----------
Happy Friday the 13th!
Friday, March 06, 2009
Celestial Hatred
(4)
In view of the previous allusions concerning climate change I thought it my duty to contact WHTZSNM in the matter. Granted, the idea was laughable, but I felt it my duty to investigate. Toward that end I dialed 666 on the Brown Telephone and extended the antenna. God answered immediately:
----------
gd: Hello?
me: Me again. Don't hang up. This is very important. We need to sample each other.
gd: Huh?
me: Truth. Truth is the sutra!
gd: Huh?
me: What happens to You in the event Earth dies?
gd: I continue moment to moment. What about you?
me: I begin below the belt sexually, enjoying the golden feeling of an unmutilated penis. Then everything suddenly disappears. Nothingness results.
gd: You are pissing me off. I hate you
----------
In view of the previous allusions concerning climate change I thought it my duty to contact WHTZSNM in the matter. Granted, the idea was laughable, but I felt it my duty to investigate. Toward that end I dialed 666 on the Brown Telephone and extended the antenna. God answered immediately:
----------
gd: Hello?
me: Me again. Don't hang up. This is very important. We need to sample each other.
gd: Huh?
me: Truth. Truth is the sutra!
gd: Huh?
me: What happens to You in the event Earth dies?
gd: I continue moment to moment. What about you?
me: I begin below the belt sexually, enjoying the golden feeling of an unmutilated penis. Then everything suddenly disappears. Nothingness results.
gd: You are pissing me off. I hate you
----------
Yes We Can!
(3)
In more specific personal news, my local readers know that the apartment above has been 'for rent' recently. The implication of that 'for rent' sign is that the apartment has been vacant these several weeks. Not so. On the contrary, nothing changed: I was gassed and irradiated as usual the entire time, 24/7. The 'for rent' status was a fascade, a lie. Somebody 'moved in' very recently. I am still studying the situation in that regard. I have related photographs (both of the previous tenant and the new tenant). I will not violate them privacy-wise until that seems to be prudent. I understand that those folks are working for money and that it is nothing personal: everybody has a price (Except me. You can't buy me. I am not for sale. Never have been. Never will be.) Were the ACSD night patrols fooled by the 'for rent' sign and the dark windows? We shall see. Stay tuned.
Time for a 'link dump:'
The Anemic Galaxy. I absolutely love this photograph! The reason goes beyond the sheer beauty of it to the celestial background: large numbers of other, fainter, more distant galaxies populate the interstellar spaces far beyond. The effect is beautiful. What makes the previous photo even more interesting is this photo which places the Anemic Galaxy within the Coma Cluster. I don't know, but my intuition tells me that the Anemic Galaxy is the one slightly to the right of center just below midline in the Coma Cluster.
Evolutionists flock to Darwin-shaped wall stain. Funny.
Biochar. This technique might be the definitive solution to reversing global warming. I won't be around by then, of course, but I wish you all the best of luck. More immediate techniques center on reflectivity: high altitude contrails can artificially reflect sunlight, lowering Earth temperatures. This technique is 'instantanious' whereas Biochar is less immediate but much more massive. WE CAN DO IT!
In more specific personal news, my local readers know that the apartment above has been 'for rent' recently. The implication of that 'for rent' sign is that the apartment has been vacant these several weeks. Not so. On the contrary, nothing changed: I was gassed and irradiated as usual the entire time, 24/7. The 'for rent' status was a fascade, a lie. Somebody 'moved in' very recently. I am still studying the situation in that regard. I have related photographs (both of the previous tenant and the new tenant). I will not violate them privacy-wise until that seems to be prudent. I understand that those folks are working for money and that it is nothing personal: everybody has a price (Except me. You can't buy me. I am not for sale. Never have been. Never will be.) Were the ACSD night patrols fooled by the 'for rent' sign and the dark windows? We shall see. Stay tuned.
Time for a 'link dump:'
The Anemic Galaxy. I absolutely love this photograph! The reason goes beyond the sheer beauty of it to the celestial background: large numbers of other, fainter, more distant galaxies populate the interstellar spaces far beyond. The effect is beautiful. What makes the previous photo even more interesting is this photo which places the Anemic Galaxy within the Coma Cluster. I don't know, but my intuition tells me that the Anemic Galaxy is the one slightly to the right of center just below midline in the Coma Cluster.
Evolutionists flock to Darwin-shaped wall stain. Funny.
Biochar. This technique might be the definitive solution to reversing global warming. I won't be around by then, of course, but I wish you all the best of luck. More immediate techniques center on reflectivity: high altitude contrails can artificially reflect sunlight, lowering Earth temperatures. This technique is 'instantanious' whereas Biochar is less immediate but much more massive. WE CAN DO IT!
Shaken, not Stirred
(2)
As to the ingredients of an 'Irish Washerwoman,' I will leave that for you to decide. I'm sure y'all can do much more justice to the idea than I can at the moment. Not that I don't have... a few ideas... For example, an IW should be 'shaken, not stirred.'
The interview with O'Dumas continued:
----------
'I decided at that very moment - totally hungover - to recoup my losses. I signed on to my broker account. I then bought 100 shares of OMG. At first it went up as expected, but then there was a sudden reversal. OMG plunged! There is no other word for it. I lost two hundred dollars in two minutes! I sold at the bottom, then impulsively bought 100 shares of OSHT, which had been going up. Not a good idea: OSHT began tanking immediately. I got out, losing another hundred. I then noticed that RATS was heading up. I bought in. RATS then did a 180 turn within five minutes of my purchase and I was forced to dump it with yet another loss of a hundred. In desperation I bought a hundred shares of DAMN. Bad idea. The stock tanked within minutes and I was forced to sell again. Totally demoralized, I decided to wrap it up for the day. What a downer!'
'Wow. May I use your real name in this article?'
'Cost ya 50 bucks.'
'Done! So, whatever happened to WTF? Did you sell it?'
'OH SHIT!'
----------
I should hasten to mention that my experience was nowhere near as catastrophic as the 'Onionesque' article suggests. Furthermore I would never trade stocks 'under the influence' or 'hungover.' The actual value of my most recent venture into the stock market (my tuition) was mostly emotional: my right brain 'got it' more or less. It needed that.
As to the ingredients of an 'Irish Washerwoman,' I will leave that for you to decide. I'm sure y'all can do much more justice to the idea than I can at the moment. Not that I don't have... a few ideas... For example, an IW should be 'shaken, not stirred.'
The interview with O'Dumas continued:
----------
'I decided at that very moment - totally hungover - to recoup my losses. I signed on to my broker account. I then bought 100 shares of OMG. At first it went up as expected, but then there was a sudden reversal. OMG plunged! There is no other word for it. I lost two hundred dollars in two minutes! I sold at the bottom, then impulsively bought 100 shares of OSHT, which had been going up. Not a good idea: OSHT began tanking immediately. I got out, losing another hundred. I then noticed that RATS was heading up. I bought in. RATS then did a 180 turn within five minutes of my purchase and I was forced to dump it with yet another loss of a hundred. In desperation I bought a hundred shares of DAMN. Bad idea. The stock tanked within minutes and I was forced to sell again. Totally demoralized, I decided to wrap it up for the day. What a downer!'
'Wow. May I use your real name in this article?'
'Cost ya 50 bucks.'
'Done! So, whatever happened to WTF? Did you sell it?'
'OH SHIT!'
----------
I should hasten to mention that my experience was nowhere near as catastrophic as the 'Onionesque' article suggests. Furthermore I would never trade stocks 'under the influence' or 'hungover.' The actual value of my most recent venture into the stock market (my tuition) was mostly emotional: my right brain 'got it' more or less. It needed that.
Too Many Irish Washerwomans
(1)
Just beginning my third beer at the moment (1642L). (This is about as close as I will come to 'Twitter.') Good news is that I figured how to get the address bar back, but not the other bar with the colored icons. I like this new arrangement because it gives me more room on the screen.
My 'stock-trading idiot' class is going well... sort of. I am learning a lot, but the tuition fees have increased dramatically in the last two weeks or so. My most recent lessons have been quite expensive, in fact, but valuable. Most of this education was absorbed by my right brain, as you would expect, while my left brain claims to have known it all along: 'I told you so...' Barf. So can I do an Onionesque article on this subject? I'll try:
----------
DENVER-In a frank interview with this reporter, a Littleton man confessed to losing huge amounts of money in the stock market recently. 'I was just crazy-optimistic,' confessed Traadr O'Dumas to this reporter yesterday. 'I'd been following the news recently on CNN when it finally dawned on me that this might be a good time to invest. 'So I cashed in my life savings and signed up with an online stock broker. My bank couldn't believe it: 'You're gonna take your money out of our safe checking account and invest it?! Are you serious!?' O'Dumas giggled as he described his banker's astonishment. 'Sucker obviously knew nothing about money!' said O'Dumas. 'And he worked for the same bank I had been saving at since 1997?! 'If only I had known! Whew! 'Anyways, I directed him to transfer funds to my trading account. Then I started trading.
'My first buy was LOL. It was a test. I watched LOL for several days as it went up. I then sold LOL for a profit. LOL!' O'Dumas jumped to his feet and clicked his heels, then sat down again.
'My next choice was ROFL. This time I doubled my stake. ROFL went up immediately. Whoa! I sold ROFL for another nice profit the next day. 'Boy they fun!' I thought. 'I am a natural financial genius!'
Then O'Dumas' mood changed to a more somber note: 'That was my big mistake. Drunk with excessive self-esteem I took an even bigger stake in WTF. I knew it was a gamble... stocks tend to go up and down and my previous choices both went up. WTF went up at first and I was tempted to sell it for a nice profit, but changed my mind at the last minute. I celebrated that night with a few too many Irish Washerwomens. When I finally woke up the next day...
'Irish Washerwomens?'
'It's a drink I invented named after an Irish tune. Anyways, I had one too many of those lovely ladies that night and slept in until noon. When I finally got up and checked WTF on the computer I was horrified to discover that it had tanked overnight, gapping down 15 percent at the open. 'Yikes! Talk about sleeping while Rome burns...!'
Just beginning my third beer at the moment (1642L). (This is about as close as I will come to 'Twitter.') Good news is that I figured how to get the address bar back, but not the other bar with the colored icons. I like this new arrangement because it gives me more room on the screen.
My 'stock-trading idiot' class is going well... sort of. I am learning a lot, but the tuition fees have increased dramatically in the last two weeks or so. My most recent lessons have been quite expensive, in fact, but valuable. Most of this education was absorbed by my right brain, as you would expect, while my left brain claims to have known it all along: 'I told you so...' Barf. So can I do an Onionesque article on this subject? I'll try:
----------
DENVER-In a frank interview with this reporter, a Littleton man confessed to losing huge amounts of money in the stock market recently. 'I was just crazy-optimistic,' confessed Traadr O'Dumas to this reporter yesterday. 'I'd been following the news recently on CNN when it finally dawned on me that this might be a good time to invest. 'So I cashed in my life savings and signed up with an online stock broker. My bank couldn't believe it: 'You're gonna take your money out of our safe checking account and invest it?! Are you serious!?' O'Dumas giggled as he described his banker's astonishment. 'Sucker obviously knew nothing about money!' said O'Dumas. 'And he worked for the same bank I had been saving at since 1997?! 'If only I had known! Whew! 'Anyways, I directed him to transfer funds to my trading account. Then I started trading.
'My first buy was LOL. It was a test. I watched LOL for several days as it went up. I then sold LOL for a profit. LOL!' O'Dumas jumped to his feet and clicked his heels, then sat down again.
'My next choice was ROFL. This time I doubled my stake. ROFL went up immediately. Whoa! I sold ROFL for another nice profit the next day. 'Boy they fun!' I thought. 'I am a natural financial genius!'
Then O'Dumas' mood changed to a more somber note: 'That was my big mistake. Drunk with excessive self-esteem I took an even bigger stake in WTF. I knew it was a gamble... stocks tend to go up and down and my previous choices both went up. WTF went up at first and I was tempted to sell it for a nice profit, but changed my mind at the last minute. I celebrated that night with a few too many Irish Washerwomens. When I finally woke up the next day...
'Irish Washerwomens?'
'It's a drink I invented named after an Irish tune. Anyways, I had one too many of those lovely ladies that night and slept in until noon. When I finally got up and checked WTF on the computer I was horrified to discover that it had tanked overnight, gapping down 15 percent at the open. 'Yikes! Talk about sleeping while Rome burns...!'
