a telenovela

The economy.

OK, what does the President of these United States have to do related to the economy.

Well, there was a time when –

– A time when what, nigga?

This whole country’s federal government was financed by tariffs.

You wanna know if it’s related to the slave trade?

No, though, what the fuck, but some may quote Immortal Technique and say the President doesn’t control the economy, stupid.

I don’t think they do control the economy, stupid.

I don’t necessarily think they should, if they can.

That’s helpful, because, we know, the President could fuck up the economy pretty bad if they chose to, couldn’t they, Jimbo?

And don’t worry about that, we already cualquier-cosa’d enough of these that they can’t ever tell who is who even right now, can they, Jim?  Are you there?

Why wouldn’t I be there?  Because you started a new paragraph and that’s not all.

Not all?


Whenever they think that, it might not be, but when we think like this, we’re safe, but, you guessed it, we’re wasting people’s time.

The economy.

The fucking economy.

What do you want to do about it?

What do you want to do about it?

You might think you should just go get a “regular” job and pay taxes into this lovely economy of ours, Jim, but then we might start wasting our time thinking about the downstream effects of your labor, Jim.

Now what?

Not sure.



Anything you want to sign?

Not right now.

That’s a little better.

Then when?



Just maybe.

Maybe not.

Maybe not who?


What the fuck, Jim.

Get a job?

Get a job, Jim.

What if I get a job working at a North Korean factory printing U.S. currency, you know, just to keep the lights on, and then, while I’m working there, I take notice of the manufacturer of the equipment, and give ‘em a ring, and find out, just by fault, that the company that sold ‘em the equipment never sold any such equipment to the United States.  Then what do I do?  Call up another company.  And how many companies do we need to call to prove that the United States didn’t trick the North Koreans into printing counterfeit money that was so well-made that the U.S. simply buys their money from the North Koreans rather than waste the time and money on their own equipment to print our own money?  We shouldn’t call any companies, Jim, because they’ll hang up before you catch your breath.

Just don’t mention anything about printing money – what about Connecticut – well what the fuck do they do in Connecticut?  They make money.  Yes, nigga, now go make some.  You don’t get the printing money and making money thing?  Not particularly, Jim, spell it out for me.  If the fine people of Connecticut are known for financial services and insurance companies, cualquier-cosa, then they don’t actually make anything except for money.  Tell that to the members of your family and see how it goes over.  You try that shit on them?  Probably at some point I would think.  They like you talking about Connecticutians like that?  Not sure they’d really give a fuck.  Why not?  Cause they’re from Connecticut, why would they give a fuck?  I see.  I see too.  You feel pretty bad about all this.  Oh yeah.  So they basically disowned you at this point or something like that?  I wouldn’t put it like that, though I’m sure they wish I didn’t have the same last name as them.  Might work out pretty well for you if you find yourself a real progressive broad up there in Western MA who would be more than happy to take that last name away from you, Jim.  Then what happens – nope – don’t even start on the hyphenated last names and what happens after a generation, Jim, because you’re dumb as a rock and thought it more clever to simply blend people’s last names without even worrying about how many syllables they had, you guggible fuck, so just chill out and write the next one before whoever comes knocking at whichever door doesn’t have vegan treats waiting for the bomb and drug sniffing dogs, Jim.