The latest from Полнотекстовые фиды для блогофермеров
- Keep on rolling.
- Economic Heights in Haiku
- Fed Up
- Loot
- Launchpad McQuack
- Keeping it together.
- Beam me up Mr Scott.
| Keep on rolling. | Top |
| Hm. I bought a bow saw today. Predominantly because I initially read it as ‘bone saw’, and thought, that might be useful. It’s quite pretty, and yellow. But now, since it isn’t a bone saw after all, I’ll have to find another use for it. I’m sure saws have other uses… like… eh… cutting branches… and stuff. Been super tired since the weekend. I think I have yuppie flu. I took my vitamin B and Red bull and my neurofin and everything. And I’m still sleepy. I even went to bed at ten pee em last night. Not sure what’s wrong with me. Probably because I’m so old now. Old and creaky. Can’t even say I had a hectic training session last night. Had to teach a noob how to jab and cross and avoid getting stabbed in the gut. Exciting stuff, nudge me if I start drooling. -yawn- God it’s a long time until pay day. Paid off my burgeoning credit card. And then I had to pay eighteen hundred ront for my overdue Dstv account. Multichoice was sending me overtly threating lawyers letters. Ha ha. And then the new and incredibly expensive Mr. Pointy. My bank balance is already looking a little woozy. Need to cut back on the liquor and prostitutes this month. And possibly buy less shares. Which makes me inherently sad, but if you want to waste your money frivolous things, this is what needs to happen. The thing about Dstv, they reconnect you, and you assume the Homer Simpson position infront of your sofa, and about twenty minutes later you realize you’ve been duped. Conned as it where. There’s nothing on. And so you set your PVR to record Busty Co-eds on Etv and then switch to the audio bouquet with a gloomy sense of resignation. I wish I had the zen just to cancel my subscription. But I don’t. Every so often I enjoy coming home late, grabbing a beer and watching the Sea Shepard attack Japanese whaling ships with acid. I never played The Witcher when it came out. Apparently I've missed out massively. Plan on getting it tonight or tomorrow night. Haven't gotten my RPG on in quite some time :-) Source | |
| Economic Heights in Haiku | Top |
| K-2, G-20— Letters have their own summits. What heights will this fill? The leaders of the Group 20 nations and economies recently met and aspired to new economic heights in Pittsburg. Meanwhile, the folks at foreclosure ground zero call every day and still can't get through to Countrywide bank of America. Angele Ellis wrote her frustration in a haiku and stuck it on a marquee visible for the leaders of the world's biggest economies. She sums up what's wrong in just 17 syllables. Forget the MTV generation, haiku has been catering to short attention spans for 300 years. It's a form of Japanese poetry that challenges the author to write inside the lines: five syllables, then seven syllables, then five in this three-line single stanza. The finance ministers and central bank governors of the Group Twenty meeting were not limited to seventeen syllables in their speeches. These 20 represent 12 letters of the alphabet in country names, and 85% of the global gross national product. They have bank regulations to consider: 1. More capital on hand 2. Incentives to reduce risk 3. Save more, spend less The common sense of these regulations resembles the basis of the National bank Act of 1863, the Federal Reserve Act of 1913, and the bank ing Act of 1933. In the ever-increasing global nature of economy, the future is not the past and hindsight doesn't necessarily apply… However, those who Cannot learn from history are Doomed to regret it. Source | |
| Fed Up | Top |
| The Federal Reserve Chairperson has got to be the ultimate anthropologist. He or she has to observe human behavior over a myriad of events—acts of God, terrorism, natural disaster, and neutral distastes—and predict behavior into an increasingly global economy. The past two living chairmen and current chairman have held significant roles regardless of the discrepancy in number of years at the position. The Federal Reserve has the reputation as the Fourth Branch of Government in the United States with a divine flare of mystery. Ben Bernanke's only served a few years but everybody knows he's as American as road rage. He came on board just as the housing bubble burst and has preached transparency every since. Paul Volker served only eight years into the late Eighties and he's got a position today as chairman of the President's Economic Recovery Advisory Board, advocating bank s' retreat from risk, the risk that's lead to the Uncle Sam's Club of mortgage lending. Then there's Alan Greenspan who lead quite the green span over four presidents, some with double terms. While his adventures in the new world of global economy are uninhibited in reaching for sweeping hypotheses according to him, the fall of the Berlin Wall and the dissolution of the Soviet Union surprised him. Then came the 9/11 Attack and he was astonished at how quickly ramifications were absorbed into the world economy. Perhaps over 19 years he was lulled into complacency as the housing market blistered, then left everybody wondering if Bernanke is over-reaching or under-checking. That's the height of the Fed. At the other end, you've got Lee Farkas of Taylor Bean Whitaker, a man who publically bawled out colleagues so often he became his own verb: to be "Farkassed." Bet there was a lot of Farkassing just before the Federal raid in August. He's got global headquarters empty in Ocala—a lovely building featuring a stained-glass ceiling with a bull and bear depiction, plus an in-house chef serving roast ostrich to senior executives. Thus Taylor Bean was fed up pretty good and now prosperous as the dodo. Source | |
| Loot | Top |
| Sir Leonard Woolley got married in the midst of his archaeological excavations at Ur. The dig was significant, Ur being the Mesopotamian birthplace of Biblical progenitor, Abraham. Unlike the Egyptian pyramids, the royal tomb of Queen Puabi yielded vast treasures of gold, silver and lapis lazuli. By the law of economics, you can't help but wonder if Katharine Woolley didn't marry Sir Leonard for the loot, kind of like how Wall Street got involved with the housing market. Supply and demand, demand and supply—the economy was getting fat in early 2000 A.D. with an increasing appetite, so much so that even subprime mortgages looked good. Demand for risk began to rise. There was a huge, untapped market share and lenders like Countrywide and Taylor Bean went into competition with each other to swallow up as much as they could to resell to Wall Street investors. But these were not golden headdresses or bracelets and earrings weighted with silver and lapis lazuli. The lack of value in these securitized packages toppled the integrity of the lenders. Katharine Woolley drove everybody nuts at Ur. She was overbearing and the workers feared her. Her attitude vacillated between queen and priestess. Unwittingly, however, she managed to do a good turn when she ordered her husband's assistant to escort a visitor. The visitor was Agatha Christie, who fell in love with the archaeology and with the assistant. They were married and she accompanied him on many future digs. The treasures of the mortgage crisis may not be as grand as Queen Puabi's tomb, but perhaps there is some good that can come of this, at least as a warning to future Wall Street greed and bank ing judgment. Source | |
| Launchpad McQuack | Top |
| You know what would make Amy Winehouse better? If she sang all her songs with a paper bag over her head. I realize it would have to be pretty big paper bag, but still, it would just improve the whole experience ten-fold. Musically I don’t mind her. It’s just having to look at her that makes me queasy. Maybe it’s the lingering effects of the food poisoning though. Can’t believe how that stuffed me. I’ve been in this weird twilight zone since Sunday. I’m quite surprised that it’s suddenly Thursday already. I’ve been sleeping quite a lot. And watching a lot of daytime television. Fucken hell, I saw a sixty year old BA Baracus doing infomercials. It was horrible. My childhood hero’s selling cookware. It makes me sad. I pity the fool. At least when I ate the bad oysters I knew that one oyster was bad. And I knew the pain was coming. That salmon was totally devious. Especially since I’d had salmon the day before. Too much of a good thing Joey. It’s not an experience I want to commit to again anytime soon. Things that cannot be killed with Red Bull… need to be taken seriously. Amy Winehouse shouldn’t be allowed to speak between songs either. A vow never to express an opinion and a paper bag. This would make her infinitely more marketable to my generation in my opinion. And I am prime sample of my generation. Generation X. Disenfranchised and fucked off. Hm. You learn a lot about your friends when you’re sick though. Who makes the effort to make sure you’re not dead and who doesn’t. It’s an interesting experiment in sociology. I recommend everyone try it. Ha ha. It took me a while to figure out how to defriend people on Facebook again. Haven’t done it in a while. Although a cull of the deadwood is long over due. -yawn- Sleepy. I have that fluey body ache and a freaking four day old headache that’s getting a bit tiresome now. Vaguely I wonder if it’s the anti-biotics or Red Bull withdrawal. Hm. Only one way to figure it out. –eyes Red Bull- If this makes it go away… then its withdrawal. –slurp- You know you’ve been watching too much Bloomberg when you can recite bits of Ben Benanke’s testimony by heart. I attempted to waste my time constructively this week. I figure if I absorb enough lingo it might somehow translate into some kind of fiscal growth in my bank account. So far nothing seems to happening. But we remain hopeful. Anyways. Back to the grind. Source | |
| Keeping it together. | Top |
| Dear diary. Today I thought I had a hernia. But I don’t. The nice lady doctor took matters in hand and made me cough for her. Ha ha. Then I had an HIV test. Amongst other things. Because I’m feeling responsible. Apparently if you donate blood (which I do) they won’t tell you anymore if your blood isn’t good. It’s supposedly not ethical to phone someone up and say, ‘listen, please don’t come down to the blood bank again, seriously’. So they just throw your blood in the incinerator. Hm. Which I thought was a little rubbish. But hey. So I’m relatively buoyed. Mostly about the not having the hernia thing. It’s not a very cool affliction. THIS IS WHAT HAPPENS WHEN YOU SELF DIGANOSE USING WIKIPEDIA and watch too much House. And do silly things Mondays and Wednesdays where you potentially injure yourself for life. Seriously, I may be getting too old for this full contact shit. I need to take up gentler pursuits. Like Lan gaming. At least there you only have to worry about carpal tunnel syndrome and the occasional frothy epileptic attack. Those seem like much more reasonable dangers to face. Day three and still not a Red bull in sight. Unless you count the empties from previous episodes. I keep them around as a memento of sorts. A shrine to the good times. –wipes tear- Sorry, I always get emotional at this part. Feeling less headachy now. Totally less clever too. –sigh- I think I’m over the badness. But let’s see how it goes. Hm. Think the weekend will be quite good. Looking forward to it. Source | |
| Beam me up Mr Scott. | Top |
| Sometimes you have a moment. A profound moment of incredible insight where everything slows and becomes transparent in its absolute clarity. I had a moment such as this. When the Enterprise pops out of warp and shoots all those torpedoes, just as Spock is on a collision course with the Romulans. I felt moved. Seriously. And it suddenly dawned on me, that I have to name my first child, Tiberius. I’m not sure how I’m going to tell Sarah this exactly. I was thinking of going with a Facebook status update. ‘Jo apologizes, but needs to call his first born Tiberius, what’s for dinner’. Maybe with flowers. Or shoes! Girls are much more pliable to great ideas after just having received shoes. Size six. I think Spock would agree with me that this course of action is entirely logical. Oh my god I love the new Star Trek btw. It gets me totally moist and sticky. Happiness is. Had a great superdooper weekend. Laike really really. Skalds sing songs about weekends like these. I’m not sure I’m going to gush on and on about it though. Sufficed to say it was really quite great. Jozi food market. I totally recommend it. Parkhurst, Saturday mornings. Soo yummy. You get to try stuff at every stall. And despite yourself, ending buying stuff. Bought this awesome liver pate with port and cranberries. Totally delicious. You get to taste something at every stall, go hungry or not, depending on how much money you want to spend I suppose. But it’s all brilliantly tasty. Went to Nice Café before for breakfast. That’s also really… well… nice. Ha ha. Their breakfasts are way cool and really… nice. Different sort of vibe from the usual. Also in Parkhurst. Gets two thumbs up, ftw. I could totally live in that area. It’s divine. Pretty central. Rose bank is close, Melville is close, Cresta is not too far away. Sandton is still achievable in fifteen minutes. Hm. Maybe one day when I’m big. Hm. My cousin lives in Parkhurst. And she’s never been to the Jozi food market. Awful behavior. Don't you find that South Africans as a rule are creatures of habit and avoid trying new things? They pilgrimage to the same Durban beach front hotel every season, go to the same restaurants, visit the same shops. We live in a highly ritualized society. Although I think it’s a human trait as opposed to something typically South African. What makes it typically South African is that we scan the area around every traffic light (sorry, robot) taking note of any suspicious characters while achieving our habits. Not so sure other citizens of the world are quite a vigilant about their intersections as we are. Busy-ish day today. Blah. Its too cold. Source | |
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