Wednesday, July 20, 2011

Who runs this motha?

Who runs this motha?

"Girls...we run this motha....yeah!  Girls!  Who run the world?  Girls!"

BS and Timmah sang and danced along to the tune while clinking glasses in celebration of buying up every asset, toxic and otherwise, in the known universe, before a variable collapse secured their status as BUYER OF LAST RESORT.

"Tuwn it up eye wub dith thong!"  Yelled Bawknee as he plopped himself on the love seat adjacent to Timmah's 8 bit Nintendo they used to run their PPT simulator.

"Girls!  Who run this motha!  Girls!  Who run this motha!"

There was no stopping them.  They had DC by the balls and Walled Street by the ears.  They were gods among grasshoppers.  Lords among field mice.

"Friday!"  Screamed BS over the music.  "Friday it all comes down.  Friday we own everything and nothing at the same time!"

"Weee!"  Giggled Timmah.  "TIMMAH!"

Bawknee waved his pointer fingers in the air with jubilation.  He was so happy he could be accepted by the great Alchemists of the Treaserve.

Girls....Who run this motha.....

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