Thursday, 8 July 2010

Peter Preisler and wet dreams in Madrid

This story was brought to my attention by the lovely ******* **** of ******* ******. Follow the link. [There is no link.] You will find a picture of her, surrounded by a bunch of squares. [No you won't.] Well, this is finance. Have you seen some of the ugly fucks that Gillian Tett has to work with? Not exactly oil paintings. Unless Francis Bacon painted them.

But I digress. Let's concentrate on this absolute lunatic Peter Preisler. Here's the full quote from today's ******* ******, concerning the wet dreams: "Some firms would say: 'Let's throw money at it and see what sticks', but we don't do that. I don't wake up in the morning with wet dreams about having twenty people in Madrid."

Sick or what? I mean, is this man sick in the head? Why isn't he having wet dreams about having people (women? men?) in Madrid? And the more the merrier! Not twenty! Thirty, forty! Fifty, even! WE NEED A QUOTE FROM THE GREAT HENRY MILLER: When I look down into this fucked-out cunt of a whore I feel the whole world beneath me, a world tottering and crumbling, a world used up and polished like a leper's skull. That's in Paris! But it's the same in Madrid! Henry Miller wasn't afraid of life or wet dreams or dry nightmares or anything. And I know if he were alive and here with us now he would say: Let's throw money at it and see what sticks.

LET'S THROW MONEY AT IT AND SEE WHAT STICKS!!! O my children, if Peter Preisler won't do it, we will. Let's throw money at it and see what sticks! In our wettest dreams we can get money to stick in the astral desert of our love with rainbows in the waters of our bloody eyes! It comes natural to us. Pete has never been to the desert. He has never torn his shirt and tie off, and his trousers, and his pants, and just run around and fallen exhausted into the sand and had money plastered all over him by the ghosts of financiers long dead. Even dead they have more fun than Pete alive! AND PETER PREISLER HAS NEVER BEEN TOUCHED BY THE TRUNK OF GANESH! That's what we're up against. The coldest of cold earth wanderers. How could T. Rowe Price employ such a bloodless half-man? This is a disgrace! I'm literally shaking with anger. Such passion! This is what they do to me. These animals! It's not just Pete. They are everywhere. I bet Baptiste Aboulian isn't getting upset about it. He doesn't have a care in the world. Bastards!