Today in the reports from Wall Street, another big day for the markets with early estimates in from many of the sector leaders, it appears to be a bang up day, and I really mean a bang up day, as the editors for Money, Fortune and Inebriated Donkey Fuckers of America report that there's only one way this day and go and that's up up up your ass like a goddamned bottle rocket of cold hard market capitalization, and you know just what the fuck I'm talking about you merchant captain of accountancy, ha-ha ya get it, like sea, like the ocean, shut the fuck up, back to the report, it really looks like the offshore investments we talked about last week may have tanked, but that's fine, cause we shorted them, which is really the only goddamned thing we can recommend in times like these as we start to wonder why some dumbass pension manager in Dusseldorf decided bottom tier re-rated sub-sub-subprime traches made sense for the little sons of bitch Hans-and-Gretel’s over there eating up their wieners and schnitzels, but back over in the Asian markets things are looking a whole lot fucking better as 1.3 billion assholes with a coal-burning fetish and an annoying tendency to outperform the US dollar on an inflation-adjusted basis insist on once again on trying to prove that the almighty Invisible Hand of Capitalism is the not the one and only true god // CHORUS // Another 90 minute drive to work, Another report filed Another ticket with no destination, 'cept White Collar Suicide // Back in the domestic markets, things are looking, well I'm not going to sugar coat it for you assholes, things are more or less in the shitter if you drive anything below, let's say a Lexus, but if you've ever casually chartered a Cessna to take that fucking kid of yours to summer camp or some shit like that, chances are you aren't hurting too bad right now. There's a whole lot of joy in Mudville whether or not Casey strikes out, since the commodity market can't seem to make heads or tails of what the fuck is going on and the asshole regulators still can't figure out what they hell they're going to regulate. Did you know know that if you mix orange juice and gasoline you can get a pretty reasonable facsimile of napalm? Also in the Crop reports today, soy beans are going absolutely apeshit, which may have mattered twenty-five years ago before traders traded anything other than strange derivative products that are really just meaningless repackagings of some other weird shit that you don't understand. I mean thanks to the AIG motherfuckers, any asshole know what a collateralized debt obligation is, but really, can you tell me what the fuck an credit default swap is supposed to accomplish? Frankly as long as you're able to get the edge of your heel pushing out on the chair when you kick it out from under you, the ergonomic motherfucker should slide far enough away that you won't have a chance to reach for it if the survival instinct kicks in while you're swinging from the goddamned noose above your cubicle // CHORUS // That's right assholes, its raining blood and raining bodies whether you're in Canary Wharf, Wall & Broad, or any of the other dying financial centers dotting this shithole planet. After the first wave, cutting your wrists or jumping off a bridge quickly became passe, but in the second round we started to see some ambitious undertakings like self-immolation, Russian Roulette parties and even the sporadic bout of seppuku. One of the top CEOs superglued his own asshole shut and went on an eating binge until he exploded from the pure volume of his own rank shit. The moral here is that there is more than one goddamned way to skin a cat, and in this lesson you're the fucking cat // CHORUS // They say only the good die young, but I can tell you right now that's a fucking joke. With enough of a push, we all die young, and ladies and gentlemen, I'm here to give you that push. Just look out your windows and tell me what you see as you button your collar and straighten that tie and wonder for the last time why your fucking uniform comes with built-in leash as you wander, not haphazardly mind you, into the path of the nearest oncoming sport utility vehicle on your cul de sac, tap the heels of your Florshiems together and repeat along with me "There's no place like home, there's no place like home, there's no place like home"