'Shiiit, we can't afford to be racist!'
In days of old, seers entered a trance state and then informed anxious seekers what kind of mood the gods were in, and whether this was an auspicious time to begin a journey, get married, or start a war. The prophets of Israel repaired to the desert and then returned to announce whether Yahweh was feeling benevolent or wrathful. Today The Market's fickle will is clarified by daily reports from Wall Street and other sensory organs of finance. Thus we can learn on a day-to-day basis that The Market is "apprehensive," "relieved," "nervous," or even at times "jubilant." On the basis of this revelation awed adepts make critical decisions about whether to buy or sell. Like one of the devouring gods of old, The Market -- aptly embodied in a bull or a bear -- must be fed and kept happy under all circumstances. True, at times its appetite may seem excessive -- a $35 billion bailout here, a $50 billion one there -- but the alternative to assuaging its hunger is too terrible to contemplate.
Looks like some stately home, but this building is divided into four flats.
Manchester is as good a place as any to have the offices of the mechanical harbringers of human doom? Industriousness, I guess. Hahhaa. Notice that the Terminators have leased the upstairs bit to Dr. Butt, circumcisionist. Ha!
Shipping company magnate Carl Barron says he has his suspects, but denies conducting a smear campaign amongst his less-liked employees.
' Why are my S/N values out?'
Bachmann the emu can't take a step backwards.
Craig got us some tickets to Man U v. West Brom. In the pub before the game the only chant I could understand was 'Champions of England! Champions of Europe!'
