Global Crisis: "Worsening and Deepening"
by Alan Sondheim
 
 

Guy in Belgium hacks his hedgefund, turns securities into Japanese pass- alongs, convert fast to Thai currency. Meanwhile Indonesia banks on Bra- zilian Amazon rubber; there's none left where this investment lies. New York City cancels World Bank loans to Kenya; key men in Afghanistan hold the landmine market in the hands of four, count them, Southern Indians.

The markets creak, corrode; everyone skims from everyone else. There are no cracks, none, where everything is cracked, falling apart. It's a thick crust sliding everywhere across the rest of the world - not that they wouldn't loanshark if they could. It's an avatar crust, loaded with get- rich schemes, internets, intranets, movements of goods and currencies hard and soft, ploughing under whatever's left of wilderness. Everything turns towards management; management runs riot with Australian uranium, South American oil, Antarctica coal which has just finally burned the Ross Ice Shelf past the point of no return. Slaughter of the guilty takes the last remaining penguins; portfolios grow in the Hague, collapse in Norway, ex- pand in Belgrade. Russian stockpiles fuel Saudi hopes; missiles will take out the rest, but there's money to be made in charred remains. The Net creaks with deals gone bad, collapsing markets, currencies hitting rock bottom; starvation's kept out of it.

The crust turns cancerous; cracks spread, whole chunks crash to the ground taking everything in their path. This is rough substance, violent, tumors raging within it, churning everything in its path. The crust leaks and topples; the rest of us would die for the same leprosy, local gangrenes begging for full-fledge suppuration.

Maws open up; breath stinks of decay as Malaysian death squads swallow Eurodollars on spec, transform yen into Canadian dollars collapsing Peru- vian banks. New York wallstreeters gouge eyes, street-fight for World Bank loans passed on by baby crack whores sold by Serbian traders working out of Scotland. The British make the drug hard for Chinese merchandising; everyone swallows Vietnam. Bamboo run by avatars crosses the Atlantic and Pacific; Albanian finance terrorists are hung by their tongues from it. Colombian savings and loans fortify, warning off Greek mercenaries looking for an easy buck. The crust heats up; lava flows like shit from gaping crevices; French bankers lap it up, their faces burned to a crisp. Sales are up on the Net; Finland creaks, fucks itself, dies in ice, drowned in semen worth big bucks in Mali. Insane Mexican pilgrims carry gold from Fort Knox into North Korea; starved teeth break against hard yellow. It's worth it says the Web page.

The crust shifts; Americans explode Bali, sell pieces of flesh to starving Israel and Iraq. Cash flows in big money veins; there's nothing stopping it. The crust turns incandescent, swallows the silver supply. Gangrene chews out arms and legs, cocks and cunts, chews breasts, tongues, blinds and deafens. Bodies for dividends are shoved into the shit. Crust burns everything. Planets wobble; the world splits, returning two for one.

virtual sign
shit-silver flows thru my veins, shit flecked with filthy lucre, shit contaminated by paper smears, ball-pointed inks coating tunnels to foreign countries. signs cost money, trade-marks copy consonants for their own pleasure, dance-g / dance-d: ive got vowels for you, some ones bought apostrophe. virtual cash dances virtual cash worth more than the paper its printed on. only the shit is real with shit-silver flecked holes where some time there was a standard. cant read stock certificates smeared with flesh rubles and your cum so trade them in. youll dance on my grave eh, but its not worth the paper you wipe your self with. oh me, ive already starved to death, shit goes only so far and theres paper poisoning around. you can smell my body a mile away, you can smell me cumming. ive got your options ready for you to sign too. theyre for the sign. in other words, he said, jennifer reported, youre paying for your signature. virtual not quite. someone will want you. someone always does.

finance, further report
they begin to stel the lphbet, selling to the highest bidder; lucky for me tht shit hsnt ny such letter. just so you know, jennifer mkes her own; greedily i engorge on her sshole, mouth wide open; cpitl flows out nd we cn survive for while like this. she cums like tht, me being her toilet nd ll. its the flecks of bnk lon certifictes tht re pure poison; luckily too my vomit serves jennifer who devours every tender bit nd lughing we cll this the circultion of cpitl. were hungered, hunted, close to psychotic here, but well tlk until the letters re gone nd then well screm nd howl, then furiously ttck. you might her us, how we slughtered bnkers nd brokers like. if youre lucky well let you et our shit, for percentge tht is. mybe youll be our shit for tht mtter. which is ll tht is the cse, unless you hve collterl.

***INVESTMENT OPPORTUNITY***
HA HA HA THEY HAVE NOT YET FOUND THIS RANK OF REEKING CAPITALS STOP SO I CAN TELL YOU MORE ABOUT MORTGAGE CAPITAL RETURNING TWO HUNDRED EIGHTY PERCENT ON THE AMERICAN DOLLAR STOP LEVERAGING AGAINST TAKI-MORGANTHALER BANK, AN OFFSPRING OF OLD TRILATERAL COMMISSION INVESTMENTS IN EASTERN EUROPE WITH LOANSHARK CAPITAL GARNERED IN WHAT USED TO BE HANOI STOP FOR THOSE WHO KNOW THIS INVESTMENT OPPORTUNITY RECUPERATES SOME VERY HEAVY PARTICULAR BRAZILIAN REAL ESTATE STOP I HAVE THIS ON GOOD AUTHORITY STOP THE SHIT TASTES GOOD STOP INJECT IT WITH EIGHTEEN PERCENT DOWN ON THE AMERICAN DOLLAR STOP YOU WILL NEED A MINIMUM OF FIVE HUNDRED THOUSAND STOP I GUARANTEE THIS IS A CONCRETE OFFER JUST OVER THE WIRES STOP THE WOMAN WHO TOLD ME DIED FOR IT STOP IF YOU THINK THIS IS JUST ANOTHER "TEXT" YOU ARE MISTAKEN STOP THIS IS NO "TEXT" STOP THIS IS A CONCRETE OFFER STOP IT IS GUARANTEED BY TAKI-MORGANTHALER INVESTMENTS STOP YOU MAY LOOK THEM UP ON THE STOCK EXCHANGE STOP NO ONE WOULD DIE FOR A "TEXT" STOP THEY WOULD ONLY DIE FOR A REAL CONCRETE OFFER STOP I WILL TELL YOU HER NAME UPON THE FIRST HUNDRED THOUSAND AND YOU MAY LOOK IT UP IN THE NEW YORK TIMES OF SEPTEMBER 17 1998 STOP NOW I WILL LEAVE AND PLAY IN MY PANTIES IN THE PUDDLES BECAUSE IT IS VERY MUCH RAINING OUT STOP HA HA HA STOP I DID FOOL YOU SO STOP - JENNIFER