Intelligent information finds you. Ordinary information can't think for itself. But intelligent information burns like a hot bastard shaman in the desert with peyote swirling in a head of fire!
This is the knowledge we need to act! No shit. O Big Herb, O Ganesh (beautiful elephant), O ghosts of the dead financiers, O my children, my brothers, my sisters, Thomson Reuters has seen the light! But will it burn in the astral desert of our dreams? Your guess is as good as mine.
Too late! Too late! Thomson Reuters will never catch us now. It don't have the expertise, man! These muthas can't get us in the desert. We are the chosen ones. O my children, my holy brothers, my weird mystic sisters, we are ahead of the game!
Silence. Silence in the desert, my children. Can you feel the wind? Can you feel the love? I am that wind. I am that love. I am everything. I am all you need. I am the master of reality!
