And he's just resigned from Fortress Investment Group, where he was the chief executive - of all things! Bloody hell! I'm trying to concentrate on writing about finance here while dealing with all kinds of nonsense. There are literally morons shouting in the street outside my window. There is a cat screeching. (Do cats screech? Maybe it's howling.) Not my cat, thank God. I hate cats. However, I don't hate that three-legged cat that hangs around. If it's him, he can howl all he wants. I mean, he's disabled, ain't he - or it? But about Daniel Mudd. This is the man who had it in for Abraham Lincoln. No, sorry, that's not ... Daniel Mudd has just resigned from Fortress Investment Group [yes, yes] because the SEC is after him, suing him. He says he's innocent, of course. He says he never made false and misleading statements about exposing himself to ... on the subway?! No, Fannie Mae and Freddie Mac to subprime mortgages. Yes. Oh, yes! Clarity at last! Well, no. Almost. Isn't this the dream?
Yes, clarity is the dream. I would sell my soul to the devil for clarity. And control, concentration. The chaos of life? It's killing me. And I have more than the average joe because I notice it, and I let it all in.
I'm listening to Roxy Music's Country Life at the moment. How much did I like Bryan Ferry when I was seventeen? I dyed my hair black! That's how much. I liked David Bowie as well, obviously. It's why I wore those baggy trousers from his Stage tour. And let's leave David Sylvian out of it! I'm not discussing lip gloss.
Lee Marvin. Lee Marvin. Lee Marvin. Let's focus on Lee Marvin. Or maybe Steve McQueen. Bogart! I need Bogart to come to me, like in that Woody Allen film.
Bogart? I should be writing about the man whose name is Mudd, but life is too short.
Yes, clarity is the dream. I would sell my soul to the devil for clarity. And control, concentration. The chaos of life? It's killing me. And I have more than the average joe because I notice it, and I let it all in.
I'm listening to Roxy Music's Country Life at the moment. How much did I like Bryan Ferry when I was seventeen? I dyed my hair black! That's how much. I liked David Bowie as well, obviously. It's why I wore those baggy trousers from his Stage tour. And let's leave David Sylvian out of it! I'm not discussing lip gloss.
Lee Marvin. Lee Marvin. Lee Marvin. Let's focus on Lee Marvin. Or maybe Steve McQueen. Bogart! I need Bogart to come to me, like in that Woody Allen film.
Bogart? I should be writing about the man whose name is Mudd, but life is too short.
