Not the Netflix!

"What's the news today, Bennie?!"  Asked Timmah as he sipped his morning Jolt.  Bernanke poured rum into his coffee.

"They raised the price of gold on us.  A lot of good that'll do them.  Maybe I should sell all my gold, tungsten is a fair substitute..."  He had begun to think out loud.

"So what should I do?"  Asked Timmah as he twittled his thumbs on the controller.
"Sell SLW, and buy Apple.  We got to keep this thing humming."

"We are all out of SLW."  Timmah pointed at the TV.

"Shit!  Ok, well sell Netflix then...damn."  He sipped his coffee with resentment.  There was nothing more he hated than selling Netflix.

Bernanke Sails!

The eye of the storm has come and gone.  Bernanke has battled many a financial hurricane since his time as Fed Chair.  No one has more field experience.  He is battle tested.

Today, the winds are in his face as he steers his ship, "Pomo".  The thunder of Muni Madness is heard overhead, as the waves of failing fiat splash across the bow.  Bernanke has no mercy for the sea he was thrown into.  He thinks of it as not a theory to master, but a way of life.  He fails to see, their is no sea, and he stands on a chair in his living room wearing a bathrobe while Timmah Geithner splashes water of his face.

Timmah Fully Loaded

Timmah Fully Loaded
It was to be a big month for little Timmah Geithner.  He was about to raise the debt ceiling like a zombie movie raises the dead, and at the same time act like China was manipulating their currency and no one else was.  Ben Shalom Bernanke walked into the living room.  Never sheepish, he asked Timmah to do the dishes, "You may finish your game after."
Timmah had stocked up on Jolt, Buzz, Flatline, and numerous other high caffeinated beverages for the new release of "Timmah Battles the Algo Machines from Hell:  Fully Loaded."  He was most likely going to play his PPT video game counsel for the next couple winter months as his main source of entertainment.  Well, that and watch old Disney movies.
The snow was keeping everyone inside.  Luckily for Timmah's Treehouse, Bawknee Fwank couldn't climb the frozen bars that lead up the trunk in the winter.  Timmah mostly had it to himself, as Bernanke spent most of his time in Davos and Jackson Hole.  Tonight he was having his friend Sackman for a sleep over.
"Sackman, do you want to play PPT?"  Asked Timmah.
"After we guzzle some Flatline!"  Sackman said as he drowned his brain in dye and chemicals.
Timmah ran to his bean bag chair.  "OK, we are going to load up the futures by buying penny stocks!"
"Oh cool!"  Said Sackman.
"Yeah, it works every time.  Bernanke showed me how to do it."
"How to do what?"  Asked Bernanke irately from the other room.
"I was just telling Sackman about the futures trick." There was an awkard silence after Timmah spoke.  Bernanke sat at his desk pressing buttons on his printer.
"How long will it take you to beat this game?"  Said Sackman gleefuly.
Timmah frowned, "I don't know.  I beat the last one in just a few days."  Sackamn sat cross legged and leaned over his pelvis with a cheshire grin.  His face was inches from the screen.
"Back up!"  Yelled Timmah.  "I can't see!"

Blythe does Jamie

"Meh.....Mmmmmeeeeh.....meh."  The sound came dip from her (it's?) throat as if gasping for breathe.  "Meeeh...cigerettes...neeed meh cigarettes."  Blythe's eyes rolled around in their sockets as if searching blindly in the dark, yet the room was lit, if even dimly.

Jamie Dimon stood in the corner.  He raised and snapped his fingers.  A manservent in a pink and purple bikini ran to Blythe with a pack of Lights.  The boyish bikini clad man held the pack out to her.  She roiled about for a second, not moving in any coordinated manner.

"Pull one out for her!"  Pointed Jamie.  The boy did so and Blythe cocked her head so he could stick one in her lips.  Her body lay in a vat of a mud like substance that appeared to be boiling.  It was not clear if she ever left the pool.

"Blythe," Jamie asked nervously, "What is the plan today?"

She coughed and weezed.  "Well it appears it has noticed we do not usually go after silver on Tuesdays."

"So we go after silver?"  Jamie asked in aspiration.

"Let me finish, boy.  We will go after all of the usual suspects."  Blythe let the cigarette burn as she talked.  "First oil, then gold, then silver, then the dollar."

Jamie reached in his coat pocket.  "I will alert Bernanke."

"Do not waste your time.  He and Barney Fwank are skiing Jackson Hole for his anniversary."

"Oh no, I forgot to get him a present!"

Blythe took a drag as an inch of ashe glowed red.  She exhaled and dropped it in the ashtray.  "I sent a card with your name on it."

"Thank y...."

Blythe interrupted, "Don't thank me."  She relaxed her head into the ooze and shut her eyes.

Zahab, ya sharmootah!

Zahab, ya sharmootah!

It means...

Gold, bitches!

...in Arabic.