Sunday, 8 July 2012

Philip Falcone is blaming it on the boogie

Right, I'll be doing most of this week's writing today and tomorrow because ... it doesn't matter. / But let's take a look at Phil ... one of the greatest shamanic lunatics of all times. Now, I've had a bit of trouble getting an internet connection this morning, so I don't know the whole story of Mr Falcone's dealings with the SEC. I think these goons are suing him and Harbinger Capital because some clients' money went missing (a loan?) or bond prices were manipulated or something. That's what they say. But what do I know? And what does the SEC know? What does anyone know? Actually, what does Philip Falcone know? Well, he knows that it wasn't the sunshine's fault. And he knows it wasn't the moonlight's fault. (Oh, he's seen enough moonlight. The old desert nights.) He knows it wasn't the good times' fault. (And when will they be back, eh?) No, he's blaming it on the boogie. 'Mikey, be serious for a moment. He's blaming it on his lawyers and his former operating chief, Peter Jenson.' Voice, why do you have to spoil it? I was having fun. Do you remember fun, man? 'Mr Fowke, I have never known fun. I am a serious voice. And your readers are serious people.' My readers? My readers are the craziest cats on the planet! Are you fucking kidding me?! This isn't the Wall Street Journal, you know. 'And it was a loan. The money didn't go missing.' All right, all right. Jesus! Some voices, bloody hell! I tell you what, dear reader(s), I'm starting to miss the mystic child voice. Never mind, let's ...


Never mind. I'll be working on No. 33 later, and then No. 34. Two in one day? Yeah.

And I reckon I'll try to keep finance out of them from now on. (Maybe, I don't know.) I need transcendence. (I think you do, too.) I'm going beyond. / Are you coming with me?