Now this is what I'm talking about! This is what we've been waiting for. A hedge fund that never loses money. It's beyond belief! But you better believe it, baby(s). Clopton Capital is a Chicago-based commercial financing services firm and commercial financing products provider. Its portfolio of commercial financing products and commercial financing services benefits your business tremendously - if you have one. You may not have a business. All kinds of losers read this blog. Most of you are probably on welfare. But I'm not judging anyone. You're like 2Pac(s). Only God can judge you. And He's not even interested in judging people half the time. Just a personal theory of mine. You won't get that in the Bible. Just here, with me. It's exclusive. Once in a lifetime opportunity. But about that hedge fund ...
It's a real estate hedge fund that invests in the fractured commercial real-estate market - whatever the hell that's supposed to be. Or it will invest. The fund hasn't even been launched yet. It all sounds like pie in the sky, doesn't it? The beautiful thing is that these Clopton characters intend to seize various properties if they default. Or something. I don't know. But it means investors can't lose money. I think. What do I know? If I were you, I wouldn't take investment advice from a shaman who has been a bit confused in his head lately. Yes, it's a big head. It's a cosmic head with the cosmos in it. But still ... I'm not the sha/man I used to be. It's not that I've lost my confidence. I'm just thinking of other shit. I'm distracted. That's what I am. Nothing less than distracted. Ever since I kissed the desert, astral and physical, goodbye, I've been lost in a cold world, in a cold city. There's no escape from this hellish reality, except in dreams. But I don’t want to live in dreams no more. I want to turn reality into my dreams. Is that too ambitious? Maybe I'm overreaching myself. I have gone too far. Maybe I shouldn't have cut Big Herb's throat in the astral night. Was that a smart move? And where's the mystic child, his voice in my head? He's gone for good, it seems. All I have is an angel I can't touch. It's the Dante and Beatrice situation all over again, and it's pissing me off. Dear reader(s), do you believe in reincarnation? I do, I suppose, a bit. There was a time I was into all that Krishna stuff. Oh, my mad youth! I'm still a vegetarian. Do you believe in astrology? There was a famous guy, killed himself, a little while ago. Well, he was born - in London - just fifty-five minutes before I was. Just fifty-five minutes! That bothers me. We probably have similar charts. Planets in certain houses, and all that. I don't know. I'll have to speak to my astrologer. I haven't seen him in ages, actually. He's so damn expensive. But if you want the best, you have to pay for the best, don't you? He once gave a lecture at the Pentagon. Not about astrology though.
You want poetry? I got poetry, motherfucker(s).
Oh dear.
It's a real estate hedge fund that invests in the fractured commercial real-estate market - whatever the hell that's supposed to be. Or it will invest. The fund hasn't even been launched yet. It all sounds like pie in the sky, doesn't it? The beautiful thing is that these Clopton characters intend to seize various properties if they default. Or something. I don't know. But it means investors can't lose money. I think. What do I know? If I were you, I wouldn't take investment advice from a shaman who has been a bit confused in his head lately. Yes, it's a big head. It's a cosmic head with the cosmos in it. But still ... I'm not the sha/man I used to be. It's not that I've lost my confidence. I'm just thinking of other shit. I'm distracted. That's what I am. Nothing less than distracted. Ever since I kissed the desert, astral and physical, goodbye, I've been lost in a cold world, in a cold city. There's no escape from this hellish reality, except in dreams. But I don’t want to live in dreams no more. I want to turn reality into my dreams. Is that too ambitious? Maybe I'm overreaching myself. I have gone too far. Maybe I shouldn't have cut Big Herb's throat in the astral night. Was that a smart move? And where's the mystic child, his voice in my head? He's gone for good, it seems. All I have is an angel I can't touch. It's the Dante and Beatrice situation all over again, and it's pissing me off. Dear reader(s), do you believe in reincarnation? I do, I suppose, a bit. There was a time I was into all that Krishna stuff. Oh, my mad youth! I'm still a vegetarian. Do you believe in astrology? There was a famous guy, killed himself, a little while ago. Well, he was born - in London - just fifty-five minutes before I was. Just fifty-five minutes! That bothers me. We probably have similar charts. Planets in certain houses, and all that. I don't know. I'll have to speak to my astrologer. I haven't seen him in ages, actually. He's so damn expensive. But if you want the best, you have to pay for the best, don't you? He once gave a lecture at the Pentagon. Not about astrology though.
_________________________
You want poetry? I got poetry, motherfucker(s).
A crazy shaman writes this shit
For the pleasure and the benefit
Of bankers and hedgies, and journos too -
He ain't got nothin' else to do!
For the pleasure and the benefit
Of bankers and hedgies, and journos too -
He ain't got nothin' else to do!
Oh dear.
