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.....

Barry does Britney

"Suck it up America! Suck it up!" Barack turned behind him. "What should I say next?"
"Just read from the teleprompter..."
Obama turned righteously, with his head strong on his neck. He swiveled it from left to right. "Look, we all knew we had to tuck our guts in. We all knew this day would come. We are strong, we are bold, and we will resolve these issues."
"Yes we can!" A blind man said from the back of the auditorium.
Barack was satisfied with himself, and stepped away from the podium. "I need some Cherry Garcia." He said to his underscore.
"Yes sir."
"Tell Michelle we will be flying to whatever vaca spot she wants next, and pop a bottle of bubbly while you are at it." He made his way to the dressing room.
"Where the hell are my skittles?" He always asked for a bowl of skittles to be set aside his mirror. "Even Britney gets what she wants." He lamented. He was getting frustrated being President. It seemed like no one respected him anymore.

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.