-Feanor.Net :: Deeper Magic from the Dawn of Time-

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Dave's forty.
Ian's engaged.
Obama's Lenin.
Mom's beautiful.

And spam is still alive and well, due to what I'm assuming is gross mismanagement of resources at the stronghold/paradise that is ticker :: GOOG. This weekend is bizzay, though I'm sure I'll do about one-nineteenth of what I've promised, and subsequently will be killed or worse, expelled, come Monday. Which is shredding day.
So come Tuesday, I'll be dead either way.
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from August Newell
to snatchtastic@christmasfuture.net
date Fri, Feb 27, 2009 at 2:50 PM
subject August Newell.

hide details 2:50 PM (6 hours ago)

Reply

Greetings.

your time on...something
weekly, plus T-ball
that these investments

Sincerely, August Newell.
_______

Can I just say something.
Because, the Republican Party is now, quite suddenly, intensely concerned with "The Country We're Leaving Behind For Our Children"... after spending more coin obliterating various regimes that had "Very Probably Nothing To Do With 911" in conjunction with a handful of congressional majorities than "The History Of The Continent, North". But that's expected, and I will tell you it's a completely disastrous strategy. They're going to get freaking killed in 2010 and I might not even want that to happen in the slightest by that time-junction. Or, by next week. Tomorrow.

Ye Obaminator is going to fondle the podium now...

Nancy. Nobody wants to see you. Or, your weird chest.
Ever. Evar. Same thing.

No surprise, Madam Speaker annoyed throughout. I don't know why she's allowed to act like a junior high drama coordinator in the public eye. Her emotions are well beyond the sleeve and shifty, she's openly divisive and overzealous, she's quite inept at behaving respectfully confident and apparently, has been long commandeered by dozens of Bay Area interests. These are not the traits of a worthwhile committee chair, let alone class secretary. Both parties are sadly handicapped in Washington as far as the nuances and subtleties of effective leadership are concerned, particularly in the eyes of the general populace. Our President appears to have absorbed the entirety of these attributes, which is not necessarily a good thing. He's doing everything big, all at once. I don't understand how you can make each of these enormous processes perfect simultaneously- even two, three, not even five years is enough to refine or completely reconstruct our financial engine, health care, multiple theaters of war, our education system, while slicing through what... upwards of ten trillion in debt... this cannot be. Be what. Be real?
What is real. Not a CDO.

I certainly have faith in this administration and I'm inspired by this immediate pro-activity on a variety of absolutely vast fronts. Assuredly though, something (devastatingly costly) will fall through the cracks and it won't be pretty. However, the GOP is doing nothing besides futile obstruction, grandstanding, urination in already-soggy diapers, all the while whining incessantly... someone, some savvy individuals aside from the President will need to step up to help along the legislative cohesiveness here or this is going to be a hella messy few years.
And, we can't possibly afford that.

______

A gangly dude from Sumner, Iowa, just waltzed into the strato-vault, mine, with some sort of a jacket and tie and male-pattern-scalp ensemble and I was a bit taken aback. That's fine, anything new and different is good these days, as I'm sure you'll agree. While I'm slightly intimidated by the lad's testosterone-laden aura, not much of anything can overshadow the fact that some sammich-bot at the shop under the Granville-Red produced, miraculously, exactly the right application of honey mustard unto my turkey submarine- double meat, if I'm to be fully disclosed. Back in the sticks, if you say 'small' or 'microscopic' or 'atom-sized' you'll still, sure as the day you were splatted upon the tillable soil, receive a massive lathering of sloppy topping whether they understood your words or not. In Chicago the only phrase that has worked for me so far has been a tiny bit o', which, obviously, paved the way to today's optimal success ranking. If you're going to go to the trouble of applying onions, peppers, olives, and the rest of the garden, why drown the damn thing in insta-lardass. It'll only taste like the slimiest sections of Jabba's sail-portaloo, and that's nothing to be proud of. Yes, when you're a Hutt, even the shitters float. You're at the top of the food chain. You've earned it.

Point being, as nearly the entire country is fat or burgeoning to begin with, why can't we cut out that extra five combined minutes of bottle squeezing from the daily grind of each sustenance assembly minion. I've given up on the rurals for the time being, let's start with Chicago and see what's possible. Submarine sandwiches will start reminding people of, you know, actual flavourful organics once again. And lo, the rate of new heart disease diagnoses in the county, Cook, will begin to deteriorate. This is almost assuredly a good thing.

MY SKINNY(R) VP IS CALLING ME ON MY SMART PHONE.
Guess I'd better pick up.
________

Le Grand Bandit Armee ( v ) Gaea's Touch.
Who will win.
Rest assured, we'll probably let you know.

__________

That's reconfirmed, after a morning of inherent greed, and mango/blueberry blisscakes. Like anyone would be able to not order that. Seriously. And thusly, I could not eat for the entire damn day, aside from carrots, hummus, and various metabolizing liquids. But I did watch CNBC(R) the entire day and lost another year of salary. Familiar. Foul. Foes. Fire. Firesale.
Epic.
Fail.

All one can really do at a time like this is keep the lobster of rock on repeat while you fire up Fieldrunners in a valiant yet vain attempt to distract your eyes from the Dow and S&P's race to 6k and 700, respectively. At that point I'll be headed to the nearest Burger King kitchen assembly phalanx, which remains the champion of all anti-foods, and I shall enjoy myself, bitching endlessly about a situation that should be, is, a billion times better than pretty much everyone else in this county, country, continent. But there are bills you see, and always-malfunctioning vehicles, and baseball games, and iTunes, titty-bars(R), fuel-cell lube, various odwalla sundries, and girls in exile from the time zone, Central. I'm not even a third of a light year close enough to the patience I require for this type of a grueling, grinding, seemingly-irreversible cataclysm. I've zero control, really, aside from pulling what coin I can into a smattering of trusts and 'probably' airtight dividend payers. At the very least, I've learned a bit about all of this, and it's important. Now, with the iceberg tip mastered, I have the rest of my life to be befuddled by the rest.

800,000,000,000. ( ? )
..You Could Spend The Rest Of The Century Reading This And You'd Still Retain Nothing Aside From The Fact That The Democratic Majority Leadership Entities In The House And Senate Are Complete ToolBags(R) And That's Putting It Lightly..

Thanks for forcing me to essentially agree with Rush and Hannity, tards.
I'm disgusted.
______

Not quite, admittedly. Just the same, things can and will happen when you miss somebody like me as intensely as nature will allow. Let's check the cache of collected voices... if you'll permit me...
____

I can't believe my baby is not picking up the phone on Valentine's Day to get this sweet message from his... um... his flanksteak in Paris. I just got home, I'm so drunk, but I saw your message, and I miss you, and I wish you a happy whatever. Because this day is stupid... but... I still miss you, and you know what I was thinking? Um, so I'm drunk now, but before I was drunk, I was thinking we should just get drunk and make out. So when I come home, whenever that may be, we're gonna get wasted, and we're gonna make out. I don't know if it's going to go as far as having sex, cause that might mess things up... but making out never hurts you know?

________

Star-crossed. That's all there is. And there ain't no more.
Ivy Mae, my parents read this. And you made my weekend.
And, probably theirs.

Damn, we still have to talk shit on my estranged partner and his... some sort of a betrothal... thingy. Soon enough, while the nectar of said reality shattering is still moist on our voluptuous tongues.

Because that type of shit can happen to a tongue.
___________

_________

PRELIMINARY: We're really, really good at space. Including but not limited to, the exploration, conquest, and subsequent resource management thereof. I've never been more proud. And pardon my francais Mr. President, but it's a pretty damn big sky.

Because I am the opposite of prompt and responsible, I have been allotted some sort of a game show host tuxedo for tonight's gala, where I will happily weld my ass to a number of European chariots while scoffing at the shit that GM continues to push at the average consumer. I was going to trade my car in this spring sometime, you know, before I realized that I was missing a cool billion. Instead, we've souped up the coupe as best as we could and the lil' guy is due for a multitude of repairs down at JOE'S early next week. I'm asking for at least 100,000 miles out of the tinted drugmobile, and, pathetically, I still have not received my driver's license from the trooper that mistakenly seized it this past weekend... and thus, barring me locating my passport, this could be a disappointing evening, to put it lightly.

Oh, but there's unthinkable magic happening tonight.
So we'll figure it out. And then, we'll be happy to elucidate.

That's the royal we, you know.
If only my bank stocks would recover...

_____

Gentleman.
You had yourself one hell of a first day.

Of course this wasn't the NEO-TREASURE-TROVE-SECY's first actual day, but it was by far the biggest impact he's had yet. And the definition, was, shit. He fucked the planet, and my recently-fangled TRAVSDAQ-TRUST was nearly obliterated as I cruised through the beautiful-yet-useless Tapley Woods, obviously quite powerless to intervene in midst of what, the ninth massive sell-off in barely a half year? You're going to have to do better than this, Timmy. Clarity, modesty, verbosity, all supported by confidence and an air of good humour throughout this shitstorm will be required my friend. If you step out from the fantasy vault like you did today, brandishing your giant brush of broad nothingness, I will go all Tyson on your vulcanized hearing devices.
Count on it.

___________

THAT'S THE RULESET, OF SILENT, RESTRAINT.

We're catching up on what's arguably Apatow's first, legendary lovechild, downing Steve Urquell (ZLOL), and Bur is explaining about how those SKYNET bitches that call you to check up on past due utility payments have to admit that they're A.I. if they are actually a non-biologic. This is good to know, don't you realize, as computers tend to not have feelings as often as human beings.

Because that's what makes us.
Humans.
Being(s).

I like driving downtown on days which are IMPROVING as far as the mercury is concerned. What you're encouraged to do is to burn a COMPACT DISC chock full of final battle themes hailing from the realm of the Squaresoft. You won't be able to avoid flooring it. You've got a German automobile, right. Of course you do. And you and I'd both have a fresher one too, if it wasn't for those damn kids. You know, the ones on the quarterdeck guiding the perpetually resuscitated Bank of America. I'm going to need that stimulus, please. I'm going to need an answer, please. And I'm going to need that answer to be yes, I will stimulate you, please.

Let the bank sleep in your damn bed.
It said it'd wash the sheets.

This is what we like to refer to as the antithesis of a target rich environment. This, right here.

Man crush, what. I've earned this. Because Harry Osborne's hair is exactly what I strive for, daily, and I still have more progesterone on the big list than the rival compound that I produce. So far. I'm still young, who knows how many more violent paradigm shifts are left buried, just itching to be unearthed from my flawed yet seemingly immaculate genetic code.

..STATUSEN UPDATEN..

Jordana Brewster
Heidi Klum
Andie MacDowell
Angie Harmon
Julia Ormond

James Franco
Tyler Schaffner

_____

Tomorrow, whorebag I-80 and I have a lengthy date.
Should be atrocious, at best.
_____________

___________

George Soros, eat your heart out.
Because it's high in protein. Probably.

..New..
RIO
TAL
USB
X
PFE
PWND
EFT
______

..Probably..
CSCO
TAL
CPNO
AMZN
CBI
AB
DNP
MEE
_______

..Life-Ruining..
LAQ
KDHAX
BAC**
_______

** (( denotes go fuck yourself bank of america ))

That's my newly-christened combo stock option investment thingy. It's pretty shit. I don't really know quite enough yet about the gears behind quarterly dividends but I do know that I'm "Making Decisions" so as to prevent "Squatting Inside Of A Soup Kitchen" somewhere down the line. Ticker: NEOQ, part of the TRAVSDAQ Composite. In short, I'm screwed. But I'd say there's at least a 14% likelihood that my financial baby's gonna bounce back faster than Pastor Ted's evangelical career. Hopefully even quicker. Because apparently his entire family has been excommunicated (read :: JETTISONED) from the classy (non-Denver) portions of Colorado-towne. That's a state in our respected union, wouldn't you know it.

ARE YOU WATCHING THIS.
Should be.

_________

There's, almost assuredly, nothing worse than this. Try walking into the EverythingRoom now, as I have this oddly uplifting feeling that you'll pass out right quick. Because Willard is a quantifiable disaster on his own biological volition... and, if I'm pushing multitudes of daisies by rearranging bowel muscle... well, the HemisphereWest will most likely no longer be a serviceable habitat for the species, homosapien.

And that's news because.

"I wonder if Punchinello would be good in a fight..."
And lo, teh evidence.
STREET CRED AMPLIFICATION SPOLIER: Nello.

A real meeting of the minds, that's what we've stumbled upon here. But really, I'd rather jockey about the arena of childhood jangles with this legendary squatter before enduring another mind-melting senatorial-laden STIMULUS drawlfest. Have you heard our fearless leaders speak on said subject. It's abhorrent. They barely have a clue. Baucus, Grassley, Reid, McConnell, you name it, they're flailing about like a pod of quizzically-aroused otter embryos. As this is unprecedented, we cannot possibly come up with anything that could at least threaten to brush up against cohesive reasoning. So, I'll wake up, you know, like whenever I want, and suck down a morning full of market futures, inevitable tailspins, mini-rallies, and the ever-blessed, perpetual _x_a_n_a_x(R) drip that accompanies the closing bell in Lower Manhattan.

"Mainfest Destiny Redux".
Could be a sweeter flick than Apocalypse Now's latest revamp.

Zero stress, zero control.
Maximum stress, maximum control.

The story of my life. Kinda like Big Fish but real.
And it's only just begun.

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