A long time ago, there was a beach, where pigs fed on the organic trash of the ocean, dead fish, seaweed, the occasioal frenchman. To keep them from the town proper, a wall was built, so that en could gather under a tree and deal and self-deal to their own benefit from the world’s commerce.
After a while, from throwing rocks into the sea, and burying inorganic trash, the beach changed shape, and the men moved to where the pigs had been, and called it wall street.
A cabin was built, where a baltic sea captain taught latin to the sons of the dutch money mongers.
Not much has changed since then.
How it hasn’t changed, and the smoke and mirrors that cause people to think it has is the subject of this ongoing commentary.
Those who have something to say that they think can stand getting looked at with a burning light are welcome, invited to post. And those that cannpt take the heat are invitred to get out of the kitchen.
Posted under business
This post was written by admin on October 17, 2008
When you torch someone, do you use a match, diesel fuel, or naplam? Tonight I’ll be searching the net for some heat resistent, protective gear. My comments elsewhere sometimes have the function of painting a bulls-eye on me chest. My finacial resevoir does not run nearly as deep as yours. But as long as we both hold the desire for truthfullness and justice in common, we might shovel some “greed dung” off that beach once inhabited by a higher life form, the first set of pigs.
Jim/Kos…If you cook me, plse think “medium rare”. he he