I see you cretins did not fully appreciate my highbrow poetry. You animals may appreciate this one. There once was a man from Nantucket Whose cock was so long he could suck it He said with a grin Wiping sperm from his chin If my ear was a cunt I could Fuck it!
IF you can keep your money when all about you Are losing theirs and blaming it on you, If you can trust yourself when all men doubt you, But make allowance for their doubting too; If you can wait and not be tired by waiting, Or being lied about, don't deal in lies, Or being hated, don't give way to hating, And yet don't look too good, nor talk too wise: If you can dream - and not make dreams your master; If you can think - and not make thoughts your aim; If you can meet with Triumph and Disaster And treat those two impostors just the same; If you can bear to hear the truth you've spoken Twisted by knaves to make a trap for fools, Or watch the things you gave your life to, broken, And stoop and build 'em up with worn-out tools: If you can make one heap of all your winnings And risk it on one turn of pitch-and-toss, And lose, and start again at your beginnings And never breathe a word about your loss; If you can force your heart and nerve and sinew To serve your turn long after they are gone, And so hold on when there is nothing in you Except the Will which says to them: 'Hold on!' If you can talk with crowds and keep your wealth, ' Or walk with Kings - nor lose the common touch, if neither foes nor loving friends can hurt you, If all men count with you, but none too much; If you can fill the unforgiving minute With sixty seconds' worth of distance run, Yours is the Earth and everything that's in it, And - which is more - you'll be a Man, my son! R. Kipling+
The Man In The Glass Peter Dale Wimbrow Sr. When you get what you want in your struggle for self And the world makes you king for a day Just go to the mirror and look at yourself And see what that man has to say. For it isnât your father, or mother, or wife Whose judgment upon you must pass The fellow whose verdict counts most in your life Is the one staring back from the glass. Heâs the fellow to please â never mind all the rest For heâs with you, clear to the end And youâve passed your most difficult, dangerous test If the man in the glass is your friend. You may fool the whole world down the pathway of years And get pats on the back as you pass But your final reward will be heartache and tears If youâve cheated the man in the glass. --------------------------------------- Many years ago, I had to make a desicion. To do the right thing was certain failure, any other choices were without consequences. I chose to do the right thing and ultimately faced failure and failed. Going forward, each morning while shaving, I would look in the mirror. I was free, I had done the "right" thing. I am now free to undo the damage, knowing I could face the man in the glass.
Bad Week On Wall Street by Seth E. Lipner So Lehman Brothers is no more But they had almost failed before First Kuhn expired, then Hutton died too But Lehman, till now, had always pulled through Long Term Capital made the top execs frown But Lehman lived on â though its stock was way down Through markets that were both turbulent and churninâ Lehman rose up; they bought Neuberger Berman But the mortgages, the swaps, and the money they lent Caused it all to go south, and away Lehman went Merrill was sold, and Morgan will too But not for that much, because of the billions they blew They all took huge salaries, but seemed not to care That the risks being taken were too much to bear So how can we trust them with our money and wealth Just thinking about it is bad for your health Now many will suffer because of this blight As Lehman and Merrill disappear from our sight
The Quantitative Easing Poem To boost my own consumption, Requires added earnings, Which almost always leaves me, With lots of unfilled yearnings. But the fed don't have this problem, More spending â they don't stint it, Bernanke's best and brightest, They can mint it, can just print it. With money it spins from the air, It buys the debt of banks, And treasuries, it buys them, too, D.C. pols, they smile, give thanks. Is this policy mistaken? 'Bout this I've no instruction. But it really does resemble, A Rube Goldberg style construction.
Identity Theft Iâm not afraid of losing cash For he who steals my purse steals trash; Itâs credit theft thatâs scaring me, The fear of lost identity. A plastic-based society Requires that its merchants be Enabled in a flash to see That I is I and you ainât me. The issuers of credit cards Claim theyâve created fair safeguards, On purloined cards my owingsâ capped, But what of credit ratings sapped? If someone else employs my plastic, Access to debt gets less elastic; To make things right takes months of sorrow, When I must beg âcause I canât borrow. So hereâs a thought from one bereft, A victim of this cruel card theft: Start treating this like hard-core crime, And give the perps long prison time.
Save The Banks? Why Do We Bother? Michael Silverstein Governments are all agreed, On one thing they've closed ranks, The thing to do above all else: "We gotta save the banks; "These institutions are so key, They can't be left to wallow, 'Cause once they get back on their feet, Then all good things will follow." But after trillions down this well, Got banks a tad more healthy, And put their books in better shape, And made bankers more wealthy; Economies still get no boost, There's no swell in jobs' tide, It seems that banks and bankers took The public for a ride.