Off to Dinner

Oooh this fucking rally has infuriated me to the point of sheer violence. Throughout the day, I broke two monitors, threw 9 bagels at my trader/servant and severed the photographic heads of 22 Gasparino pictures.

Sure, shit is bullish for the markets. We have gapping oil, wheat, corn, soy, natural gas, heating oil and sugar prices. We don’t need any of that shit. Just as long as [[ABK]] and [[MBI]] can get some love from the BANKING FOOLS, everything is sweet—like golden creamed corn.

Personally, I could care less about new home starts or “growth” in the economy. Frankly, I’m perfectly content with poor people living their pathetic lives out in dire boredom, subject to repetitive [[WMT]] “shopping sprees” and vacations to [[SIX]].

With the money I stole back from the homeless guys from yesterday, I will stand tall and sell to lowly people, like Dennis Kneale or James Cramer.

I could give two shits and a gay goat about your fucking charts or “new breakout plays.”

“The Fly” has his own agenda, which doesn’t include having his head lit aflame in erroneous [[SRS]] or [[SKF]] positions.

Until my ridiculous, but definitely pending, revenge punches out the teeth of Sam Zell, when dining out, I will send back the first dish served, in protest of this egregiously poor recession, telling the waiter: “Go cook this with more fervor. Next time I will not be so kind.”