[GregFokker]

The Batphone chirps inquisitively as The Lizard King grunts semiconsciously.

"Hlo," he croaks.

"Dr. Greenspan, we cannot reach Dr. Bernanke and the markets are moving." Fukui-san's high-pitched squeal was more sollicitous than usual.

"Jeez Fukui, still sleeping it off... hmmh... didn't your yen sales work out? Isn't the dollar strengthening?" croaks the Lizard King.

"Which sales are those? The first 100B or the last 5? The dollar isn't 'all that' just yet, Dr. Greenspan, but my bonds are getting creamed!" came the staccato reply.

"I'll get the Rookie, err, I mean Ben," sputters The Lizard King. It was going to be a long day after all.

[machinehead]

GregFokker, on Jan 29 2004, 10:11 AM, said:

"I'll get the Rookie, err, I mean Ben," sputters The Lizard King.  It was going to be a long day after all.

Ben's phone wakes him in a nondescript gray motel room, darkened by closed curtains.

"Yeah ... yeah ... really? ... right, chief. Ciao."

"Sh*t!" yells Ben, hanging up. "It didn't work. The bonds are still sliding, and the dollar's not holding its gains."

A female voice mumbles sleepily, "What?"

"Carol? Er, Carla ... sorry," addressing the mane of dirty blonde hair on the pillow next to him. "Trouble at the office. I gotta go."

"I'll come see ya at the Leather 'n Lace as soon as this little tempest in a teapot is over. Take care, doll."

Ben picks up his coat and heads resignedly out the door. It was gonna be another long day, for sure.

[GregFokker]

machinehead, on Jan 29 2004, 10:21 AM, said:

Ben's phone wakes him in a nondescript gray motel room, darkened by closed curtains.

"Yeah ... yeah ... really? ... right, chief. Ciao."

"Sh*t!" yells Ben, hanging up. "It didn't work. The bonds are still sliding, and the dollar's not holding its gains."

A female voice mumbles sleepily, "What?"

"Carol? Er, Carla ... sorry," addressing the mane of dirty blonde hair on the pillow next to him. "Trouble at the office. I gotta go."

"I'll come see ya at the Leather 'n Lace as soon as this little tempest in a teapot is over. Take care, doll."

Ben picks up his coat and heads resignedly out the door. It was gonna be another long day, for sure.

The Rookie fumbles his microscopically tiny celphone out of the deep breast pocket of his fitted suit and speed-dials McTeer in Dallas. During their last binge, McTeer had told him that he was On The Team, come hell or very high water. The time has come.

The cordless rings in the large ranchero playroom, startling the Dallas Fed Chief from a reverie as he examined himself in a full-length mirror, resplendent in a pair of silver-studded full-grain chaps, snakeskin shitkickers, and nothing else. Jangling and clunking along the cherry and mahogany floor, McTeer grabs for the phone.

[machinehead]

GregFokker, on Jan 29 2004, 10:27 AM, said:

The cordless rings in the large ranchero playroom, startling the Dallas Fed Chief from a reverie as he examined himself in a full-length mirror, resplendent in a pair of silver-studded full-grain chaps, snakeskin shitkickers, and nothing else. Jangling and clunking along the cherry and mahogany floor, McTeer grabs for the phone.

"They done WHUT? Well don't that just beat all ..."

"I'm fixin' tuh open up a can a WHUPASS on SOMEBODY! Back atcha later, Ben."

McTeer, frustrated beyond endurance, takes a pearl-handled six-shot revolver out of the top drawer and methodically blasts the cut-glass sconces off of the walls.

[threadbare]

Oh you silly Fokker--That is just hilarious. Mhead -Same.

[beardrech]

TO BE CONT.... I hope

bravo---Encore-Encore--
beardrech

[machinehead]

We are mere junior scriptwriters. beardrech is The Bard! (THE MAN of literary Stoolville.)

[GregFokker]

Agreed. Beardrech is our Poet Stooleate.

The Lizard King's crystal-ensconced horizontal pendulum clock describes its endless swirls on the bedstand as the fedhead lies awake in bed, waiting for it to be time to reenter the world. If only they play ball. If only. Is The Rookie right? Can demand-pull inflation truly drag along the inevitable unwelcome forces of debt-deflation? Cost-push inflation never could, actually contributing to it in this environment. Meditatively, The Great One allows a crepitation to escape safely beneath the hermetic confines of the goose-down duvet. Oh, the economics text he could ghost-write. Forget about Alan Blinder- he had the time to write introductory books.

"Well, whatever worked yesterday should work tomorrow," and with that The Lizard King resolves to call The Rookie and suggest another blast. The shorts seemed to have endless money to lose on bonds and stocks, and they'd been satiated enough this week to warrant another month at least. And that's forever for a Central Banker. Perhaps a coordinate program from Fukui-san, and a fat weekend repo. That ought to give em something to think about.

[machinehead]

The Chairman shuffles into the Conference Room -- scene of so many sparkling debates, so many fine lunches -- to meditate.

"Speak to me, O Great Eagle. INFLATION ... or DEFRATION?"

[DrStool]

BWAHAHAHA.

[threadbare]

And in his wake, Andrea, dutiful wife, ambitious career girl and media ho, contemplated the grim reality of spending another night with the Lizard King. Why did he feel the need to illustrate the dynamics of inflation with constant crepitations that blew the duvet cover half off the bed. She blanched, pulled her thin white hand away from her nose and nestled back into the warm embrace of the goose down, once more enjoying the comfort of being alone in a deflationary environment. Thank God he was gone. Let the economy suffer, just leave me alone, she muttered.

[machinehead]

threadbare, on Jan 30 2004, 05:56 PM, said:

Thank God he was gone. Let the economy suffer, just leave me alone, she muttered.

Half of Stoolville will be saying the same ...