Since you brought up the good old empty kitchen tables across the country in your lovely State of the Discord, I mean, Union Address. (Image of Charlton Heston saying "Where's your Roosevelt now...?")
The economy slows to a grinding stall, while the price of everything escalates - find the cost of freedom why don't you?
"The combination of weaker growth and accelerating inflation puts Fed policymakers in a quandary: Cut interest rates to boost growth, or hike rates to stop inflation.
But the Fed's signaled that it believes the risks to growth far outweigh the risks of higher inflation..."
yea, yea, yea what condition our condition is in...
http://www.marketwatch.com/news/story/us-economy-slows-06-growth/story.aspx?guid=%7B9C5A0518-549D-4A8D-8666-881C32657085%7D
Wednesday, January 30, 2008
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A response in poetry to the State of the Union Address, from Jimmy Warner:
"I HAVE A BLEEP
I may be more in the secret sign Ophiucus than
Scorpio, more night ruling Mars than Pluto.
My end time angel in new stripes of sheen and
leathern flip-flops tries to seduce me blue
Like the last five minutes of color in the day as
I retire in tie, sweat pants and espadrilles,
A long seductive night of distant summer shapes,
endorphin dusk and falling angel cries.
YES, I HAVE A BLEEP,
That features the background music of nature and a
floating economy of kitchen tables
And dollar bills stretched out to the horizon line
of flood plain and bobbing homes with
Help signs in nightmare array - life out of
balance in a yo-yo climate hidden by tax-dollars
to be flash frozen during ensuing ice-cream ages -
inner ages of boys and girls with dreams.
OY, DO I HAVE A BLEEP,
Hold up your sprained fingers for TERRORNY, a slip
up word for the miracle of America,
Another corrugated upper-lipped expert in the
Simpson-like dysfunctional din of commentary
Where Ankh pendant wearers gather round, join
hands and mumble their super jumbo, a
Times Square, distant cube root planet, crying out
for action or its long buried ectomorphica.
I HAVE A BLEEP, ALRIGHT,
It's a Hubbert peak, power-down, Rubicon geography
lesson at rainbows end where the
the suck of last minute resources makes her final
drain pipe glurgle, and the apocalypse
according to the collective blogger unconscious,
archetypal anchovy of fish-kill science,
comes in, dragging gill nets webbed in life, but
doomed to drag relentlessly thru eternity.
BLEEP YEAH, I HAVE A BLEEP
In whose pocket is my fifty thousand bucks you
used to bury my bleepin house in bullshit?"
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