We Got What We Paid For!

Small Investors thank Hedge Fund Runners

You will probably have a hard time remembering Jai-Alai 3Card Monty Bourse Bigote de Barcelona.   (A quick search of this locus for Jai alai will quickly refresh your memory).  Their financial wizardry landed them in regulatory difficulties and they took many of their boutique financial instruments such as their Poverty Deflate Swaps off the market.

During the recent socialist, liberal, effete, elitist witch-hunt Jai-Ala had been quietly working behnd the scenes through its political foundations, pouring millions into the election campaigns of willing and compliant “politicians” who will now create a more hopspitable environment for the kind of go-getting entrepreneurship that made Jai-Alai 3Card Monty Bourse de Barcelona the giant it once was.

Stand by for the launch of Real Income Erosion Futures and  Class-based Asset Class Repurchase Bonds as soon as the richest 2% are relieved of the heinous burden of having to pay their own electric bills.

 

AN INDUSTRY OF WHINERS!

 

I have been keeping a low profile recently, recovering from the stresses of abduction and detention at the hands of the Department of Untold Conformity and then as soon as I was released a boom in the book handling and dog-earing trade brought about by Bailout Bill and The Derivative Kid, the Fastest Fix in the West.  .  But I have to share this before our readership takes itself out to exercise its franchise..

 

There I was, standing on the corner of Wall Street and Pearl Street waiting for a sandwich (a long story – for another day) when behind me there was a sudden ripple in the fabric of things.  An anonymous source at the Indefinite Particle particle accelerator informs me that a copy of The Wall Street Clarion, two crud-encrusted pennies and some parrot droppings fell into an interstitial singularity flux when a mini black hole was created during routine cleaning.

 

The result in this dimension was that I turned round to see a weird flash and a Quantum Contrapositive Doppelganger of Non-Phil Gramm and Quantum Celebrity Fascist Rafaella Marconi in a spandex bikini materialize and begin yelling and throwing goat excrement at the passing Wall Street Moguls:

 

“You are a disgrace.  You are nothing but an industry of whiners!  Look at you!  Running to the Nanny State looking for handouts!  Private profits and socialized risk!  Help!  Help!  Bailout Bill, come save me from my own runaway greed and incompetence!  You make me want to puke!  Too big to fail?  Maybe you’re just too damn big, end of story!”

 

No Quantum Doppelgangers here!

This was followed by a brief Implausibility Matrix Readjustment during which I had the chance to take this photo.  Quantum Doppelgangers never show up on digital media.  You can see the complete absence of anything out of the ordinary, classic proof of Quantum Chimera.  There was another weird flash and Non-Phil and Rafaella went back to wherever they came from leaving goat crap and puzzlement behind them.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Bailout Bill and The Derivative Kid – the Fastest Fix in the West!

 

The Concerned Reader: Anyone home?

 

TDIA: I’m under the stairs.

 

The Concerned Reader: What are you doing in there?

 

TDIA: Looking for masking tape.  How did you get in?

 

The Concerned Reader: You left the door open.

 

TDIA: So?

 

The Concerned Reader: We were worried because you’ve been so quiet since you came back.

 

TDIA: Oh I’ve just been really busy with the book handling.  I had to hire a whole team of temps.

 

The Concerned Reader: Really.

 

TDIA: Yeah I haven’t been this busy in years.  I had hundreds of temps dog-earing and making notes all over drafts of the bailout bill.  The last time congress threw all their leftovers into a bill to bulk it up like that was the PARTIOT Act.  300 pages of add-ins!  Insane!  I was getting calls from congressional aides, interns at all the think tanks.  You know none of the elected suits ever read these things.  Every time there is one of these recycling bin bills filled with every piece of legislation that couldn’t get nailed into some other bill, my business explodes.  So now, to relax, I’m going to paint the shed.  Before you know it, there will be another “Bailout Bill – the Fastest Fix in the West” filled with subsidies for hawk breeders, ammunition import tax breaks and assorted crap, amendments to outlaw spandex bikinis within 400 yards of a place of worship.

 

The Concerned Reader: Ah I see.  Well, let me know next time you need book-handlers; I could to with the extra cash.  I wonder if Bailout Bill is friends with The Derivative Kid and Joe the Plumber and Lidia the Dental Hygienist, Trevor the Taxidermist, Montague the Mortician, Axel the Database Administator, and all the other “Insert First Name” “Insert Occupation” folk so beloved of the Republican Presidential Campaign these days?

 

 

We Interrupt These Olympics….

The Avid Reader and Sometime Interloping Writer: So anyway, there I was at the weekend watching Olympic equestrian beach shot putt waiting for Obama to text me his VP choice when who do I notice in the stands behind the Bolivian team coach…

 

The Definitive Indefinite Article: …Out of my way!  I have important news to tell everyone.  Joe…

 

The Avid Reader and Sometime Interloping Writer: …Biden is Obama’s running mate for November.

 

The Definitive Indefinite Article: How did you know that?

 

The Avid Reader and Sometime Interloping Writer: I was just about to tell you all before you so rudely interrupted me.

 

The Definitive Indefinite Article: So how did you know that?

 

The Avid Reader and Sometime Interloping Writer: He texted me.

 

The Definitive Indefinite Article: [Incredulously] You?

 

The Avid Reader and Sometime Interloping Writer:  Yes.

 

The Definitive Indefinite Article: Ha!

 

The Avid Reader and Sometime Interloping Writer:  Well, not just me.  There were about thirty zillion others too.

 

The Definitive Indefinite Article: [Suspiciously] And how much did this cost?

 

The Avid Reader and Sometime Interloping Writer: Free.

 

The Definitive Indefinite Article: Oh.  [Pause.] Well that explains it.

 

The Avid Reader and Sometime Interloping Writer: Explains what?

 

The Definitive Indefinite Article: Why I only found out now.

 

The Avid Reader and Sometime Interloping Writer: [With relish.] Please.  Go on.

 

The Definitive Indefinite Article: I signed up for the premium service.

 

The Avid Reader and Sometime Interloping Writer:  Right.  And?

 

The Definitive Indefinite Article: It’s a little slower.  [Pause] But much more elegant.

 

The Avid Reader and Sometime Interloping Writer: And it cost you?

 

The Definitive Indefinite Article: It would be vulgar to tell you.

 

The Avid Reader and Sometime Interloping Writer: [Archly] We are suddenly concerned about vulgarity here?

 

The Definitive Indefinite Article: There is need for that tone.  By the way, is that skinny waif in the corner my cat?

 

The Avid Reader and Sometime Interloping Writer: Uhm, no, no.  That’s uhm a stray I adopted.  Yours is sleeping.

 

The Definitive Indefinite Article: I see. So I found out later but the news was delivered to me by a page in an ermine flight suit accompanied by four former Miss Worlds in transparent spandex bikinis on a sleigh. 

 

The Avid Reader and Sometime Interloping Writer: I take it the bikinis were on the Miss Worlds and not on the sleigh.  That seems like a good use of your budget.

 

The Definitive Indefinite Article: When your secret smoking training regimen has already netted 47 gold medals, you don’t have a budget.  Excuse me.  The Miss Worlds are arguing about which of my Lamborghinis we should take out for the picnic.

 

[Exit screen left]

 

The Avid Reader and Sometime Interloping Writer: [Despondently.] I thought I was going to win that one.  I really did.

 

The Definitive Indefinite Article: [Barely audible above the revving of sports car and blandishments of beauty queens.] Don’t forget to feed the cat!

 

 

 

 

BEWARE OF “ORDINARY PEOPLE JUST LIKE YOU”

So the United States is in its usual quadrennial quandary: How to choose a president?  Should the person to run the country be chosen on the basis of qualifications, ability, policy plans or because he would fit in at a crappy chain restaurant or be the kind of guy next door you could sit out on the front porch and have a beer with?  It seems the guy-next-door factor is a huge force. 

 

As a community service (part of our conditional release, but we’ll go into that another day) The Definitive Indefinite Article has designed the following Thought Experiment Quiz to help the public focus its thinking.  We hope that this helps clarify some concepts relating to elitism that seem to be giving people brain damage.  Do you really want someone who claims to be dumber than you in charge?

 

You are having invasive brain surgery.  Do you want to be operated on by:

1.     The chardonnay aficionado who came top of graduating class?

2.     The beer-from-the-bottle inverted snob who graduated at the bottom?

 

Your boiler is broken and you are freezing.  Do you:

1.     Call a qualified plumber?

2.     Let Tony next door who tells funny stories about his enlarged prostate loose with a blow torch?

 

Blinding pain shoots through your jaw.  Do you:

1.     Let Melanie who can do a perfect Posh Spice impersonation go at your molar with a screwdriver?

2.     Go to someone who went to dentist school?

 

Your flight is in mid-air.  Both pilot and co-pilot are taken ill.  The cabin crew look for someone to land the plane.  The passengers are in dispute.  Do you vote for:

1.     Jolly guy with the infectious laugh in 16G?

2.     Nondescript in 23F who flew cargo planes for 10 years?

 

You may have a very rare blood disease that will eventually cause your head to explode.  Do you:

1.     Seek the advice of the basketball trivia expert who soles your shoes and always has the smell of stale beer about him?

2.     See a doctor?

 

There may or may not be a catastrophic weather event headed in your direction.  Do you:

1.     Phone Anne because she has an umbrella with ears on it?

2.     Check the weather forecast.?

 

You are trapped in a disused well.  Do you:

1.     Accept the help of the guy with the funny hair who says he’ll help you dig your way to China?

2.     Accept the help of the guy with the rope?

 

Beware of false ordinariness.  The only people just like the sons and grandsons of admirals are the sons and grandsons of other admirals. 

 

This concludes The Definitive Indefinite Article’s community service.

 

 

 

Jai Alai 3Card Monty Endorses John McCain

 

 

REPUBLICAN VP CHOSEN BY MACHINE! MCCAIN / RICE 2008!

Remember you saw it here first!

…We interrupt the saga of Bishops, Cardinals and their insurance-related mendacity to bring you this news flash…

 

We have received news from a colleague at The Indefinite Particle particle accelerator that the US Republican vice presidential candidate could be Condoleezza Rice.

 

The current working hypothesis is that the verbiage, innuendo and prevarication from a stray television filtered into the accelerator’s core where it created a temporary Rovian Klösterfuch Field.  Once the right amount of idle speculation and empty analysis entered the field, the basic elements of unprecedented candidacy were transmogrified into a combinatory binary candidacy flux. 

 

The Patient Reader:  Wait!  Wait!  I was with you up to there.  Now you’ve lost me.

 

TDIA:  In lay man’s terms: why fret about whether to you are better positioned to run against the African-American man or the woman?  Get yourself an African-American woman on the ticket. 

 

The Patient Reader:  Seems plausible.  Has this been confirmed in any way?

 

TDIA:  We were unable to reach anyone for comment at the Rovian Klösterfuch Institute for Advanced Hegemony though we did speak to an anonymous State Department employee who said he knew nothing of Ms. Rice’s plans for the future but had heard of John McCain.

 

The Patient Reader:  This is most informative.  I must leave you now to visit my turf accountant.

 

TDIA:  Your what?

 

The Patient Reader:  My bookie.

 

TDIA:  Ah!  Good luck with that.