Tuesday, December 6, 2011
Felonius Funk Pops IN Unexpectedly
Thursday, March 17, 2011
Untitled
Monday, February 7, 2011
THINK AGENTS ARE CONFUSED TODAY? IMAGINE BEING A FIRST TIME HOME BUYER!
Great post from Lenn. We all need to nurture trust by our honest actions with others.
Friday, January 21, 2011
Reputation Architecture: How to multiply the effects of 'Remarkable Service'
Gary W. Oakes, CRS, GRI, ABR, e-PRO
Crye-Leike Realtors
Address: 206-A Cool Springs Blvd., #101, Franklin, Tn, 37067
Office Phone: (615) 771-6620
Cell Phone: (615) 400-0098
Links [add/remove]
This will be SO important to one's success in the future. Reputation Architecture will be a keyword one of these days soon, especially in local searches when looking for service-oriented REALTORS.
Thursday, January 6, 2011
THE SUGAR BOWL PREVIEWED BY AN ALCOHOLIC NEW ORLEANS POLICE HORSE - Every Day Should Be Saturday
HE SUGAR BOWL PREVIEWED BY AN ALCOHOLIC NEW ORLEANS POLICE HORSE
by Spencer Hall on Jan 4, 2011 1:01 PM EST
ONE
These streets.
These filthy, filthy streets.
You come here. You buy your 64 ounce beers, your drinks in three-foot-long neon plastic tubes. You say things you can't say at home. You vent. You spill it into these streets like the outflow pipes of distant sewers. Lives filled with shit you can't dump anywhere else. You put things you wouldn't put in your worst enemy's bathtub here. You make a beast of yourself because you think no one's watching.
Someone is watching though.
I see it all.
The beast who stays a beast.
The beast with more humanity than any of you bastards.
TWO
You ask me about your games, your petty little games. You want a game? We can play games. How about "Turning a Corner To Find A Trannie Stabbing A Sexually Intolerant Man From Ohio In The Face With A Broken Margarita Glass?" Or my other recent favorite, "Bitch From Little Rock Who Won't Stop Pulling My Tail." You know what cops hate doing? Filing paperwork. They really hate it.
That's their problem, because when I kick someone in the knee and crack their patella you know how much paperwork I have to do? None, because hooves can't hold a pen. They can make a drunk bitch feel just an ounce of the pain in me, though. I would sign a thousand sheets of paper with a pen clenched in my teeth for that.
There are other games. "Drunk Couple Fights Outside A Strip Club When A Three-Way Lapdance Goes Sour." "Man on PCP Wants To Fight a Horse." (Oh, that is a favorite of mine, and you know who doesn't lose? Me.) There's a little game called "Pantsless Couple Having A Quickie In The Alley Gets Chased By Cops." It's a bright spot in the long dark tunnel of my day to watch a man fall tackle-first into a gutter with his pants around his ankles.
Sometimes it makes me forget where I am. Then I remember, and the smell of stale booze and piss brings me back to the present, and I remember that dreams are the worst torture of all: the promise of hope interrupted by the inevitable waking.
THREE
Other horses don't understand what we go through. Home life? Forget it. No barn can hold you once you've tasted the street or bitten a chunk out of a tourist shoulder in a street fight. You're either on patrol or sitting in a dark dive drinking bourbon neat. The bars aren't supposed to give cops free drinks. The bars know that the law is the lie we tell others to get to the business of living just like we do.
You can try to have a real relationship. Sure, you can go for a wild ride with one of the ponies from the petting zoo. In the end there's no real connection. The conversation never gets past oats and bloat. Just a roll in the hay, and then a swish of the tail and she's gone like a dream down the sidewalk.
You might think of her one cold night in the stables. Sometimes in this prison we call life you become your own warden. Sometimes he's the worst warden of all.
FOUR
Yes. I've taken bribes. Carrots. Sugar. I'll be honest, I'm not even a vegetarian anymore. None of us are. It's an open secret. We all take them: a beignet here, a sack of oats there. We walk past some bars and restaurants more than others. Not always for the right reasons, according to some. You show me a solid right reason and I will show you an honest cop.
We'll compare. I like to look at nothing as much as the next horse. It'll be fun for one of us, at least.
It changes you, this city. Changes your blood, whatever is left of your soul. Last week I ate a steak. I'll admit it. Perfect marbling, well-rested, perfectly grilled with some creole butter. A steak. I'm this close to eating my own.That's what this city does to you.
You start off as a bright eyed pony.
You leave it a swaybacked cannibal.
And the worst part: it was delicious.
FIVE
It doesn't even have the decency to stay the same. This city's a whore, and it spreads its legs for the future and cuckolds the past every second. Last year they brought in a new crop of recruits. Arabians. Say what you want, but I don't trust 'em.
They're a little funny, if you ask me. My HR rep tells me I gotta stop calling them all Osama. But what does that fucking donkey know about the world? He sits in the barn all day, watching tv and eating the loot he takes off incoming prisoners. I'm out here. I have to know who to trust.
I don't know when it stops. When camels are closing the bars and biting women who aren't in burqa on Jackson Square, you'll see I was right. You'll think of me.But by then it'll be too late. If I'm lucky I'll be out to stud. If not, I'll be dead.
SIX
I've kicked those who deserved it. I've kicked those who don't. They feel the same after a while.
SEVEN
When i do go off-duty I'm either drunk or working private security. Usually both. I try to stay away from the drugs. Sometimes they don't stay away from me.That's when trouble starts.
You think drugs make it back to the lab? Have you seen my nostrils? Do you know how much blow a horse can do in two minutes? Do you know how much pain flies out of my body when that white angel flies into my brain? Do you know how for just a second I'm free, running through the meadows I never got to run through as a foal?
Happiness is an empty saddle. An empty saddle is a hollow horse. We're happiest when we're hollow. Nothingness is nothing to fear. It's being that should terrify you.
I don't know how much longer I can do this.
/pisses two gallons on the sidewalk
//shits mid-stride
EIGHT
There are moments. One time I woke up in a dumpster with Lindsay Lohan. She was naked, I was unbridled. We were both wild.
You might say bad things about that lady. I dunno, maybe she's been bad to you. PETA won't hear a complaint from me.
NINE
I had a dream last week. I walked down Bourbon with my rider on my back. He was drunk and sleeping. It was sometime around dawn. No one was on the streets. Not even a sleeping drunk. There was the sun, and the balconies and railings and romeo spikes and the smell of the streets. Nothing else.
I crossed Elysian Fields and went through the Marigny. I kept walking, first through another neighborhood, then another, and on and on. I don't know how long I walked. The neighborhoods got strange and unfamiliar. I saw no one else. There were streets and silence, and I wandered south to the river.
Then I came to the river.
A ferry waited. The pilot looked old and out of time. He had suspenders, and highwater pants, and a white cotton shirt and a hat. I had no money. He asked me if I would sell what I had to get on. I nodded yes. He took my bridle, and said "Ten dollars." The saddle: "eighty." The blanket, the rest of my gear: "twenty dollars." He asked me what else I had.
I could talk in this dream like a man. This was not strange to me. I said, "My soul."
The old man squinted. He wrote down a number on the paper.
I woke up in the barn, shivering and alone.
I don't know if I want to know what the number was on that paper.
Also, I have hooves, and can't pick up pieces of paper.
TEN
So. You play your games, Ohio State and Arkansas. They're just games. I'm out here with a 240 pound bribe sponge with a gun on my back. That's the game I play every day.
That's the real game. What you do is for kids. What I do is about giving a sick order to these streets. The garbage gets in the gutter one way or another. Someone's got to kick it there. There's a glue that holds this city together.
It's made from horses. LIfe's predictable like that, but I'm not complaining. It'll be over soon enough.
84 comments
Email
Print
This is a few days old, but Spencer is such a gifted writer, I had to share again. Enjoy!!
Saturday, October 16, 2010
We Got the Funk, Felonius that is...
(This is the third part of a series of discussions that I have been having with an old friend)
I recently ran across an old friend,(let's call him Felonius Funk), and we were discussing the many issues facing this country these days, and as the conversation led us to familiar grounds concerning our two industries, real estate for me, and Wall Street for him, we digressed for quite awhile on recent past history, and the current .
effects that it is still exerting on our present and foreseeable future.
What "Felonius" imparted to me was intriguing and maddening at the same time, and I know most people are too busy to pay attention to the players and the moves they are making, because of the smoke and mirrors they use to confuse and obfuscate the true import of their actions. In addition, the complication involved in these manuvers causes people's eyes to gloss over within a matter of seconds of attempted explanation.
This is my small attempt to add to the needed public dialogue about the puppet masters behind the curtain. Without further ado, I give you Felonius Funk, in his own words...
Is anyone angry yet? Do you listen to your media? Do you hear it blame "this" bank for making "this loan"? Rubbish! A large handful of global banks, investment banks, and insurance companies brought the whole system to its knees two years ago because of their outright overspeculation in a leveraged multi trillion dollar arena known as financial derivatives. Nobody is talking much about them in our precious media, so they still must be a secret. Analysts for the various financial firms aren't talking about them when they release their forecasts. So-called gurus who write investment newsletters aren't talking about them either. Why is it all so hush-hush?
Can we look at the ramifications today from what happened two years ago? The Federal Rerserve (which is a private corporation and really has no reserves) cut short term interest rates to the bare bones in order to try to stir businesses into action. What was the result? Retired people and senior citizens saw sharp declines in their investment income unless they were willing to take investment risks that they had never before taken in their lives. These people were used to receiving 3% to 5% for their CDs with their banks with relatively short maturities. Short term interest rates being basically zero, these people would have to tie up their monies for ten to twenty years to get those kinds of returns or leave the FDIC safety net to obtain those returns with shorter maturities. Are you angry yet?
Where did the money go that was given to the banks for loans? I'll tell you one place it did not go: Multi generation family owned businesses who were used to weekly/monthly borrowing just to replenish normal inventories. Many of those businesses have shut their doors. Are you angry yet?
Who paid attention to the Financial Reform bill? Derivatives are going to trade on a central exchange..........so they can go belly-up right in front of our very eyes instead of us receiving the information second hand from the over-the-counter markets. The Canadian banking model (high reserve requirements, the purchasing of mortgage insurance, and No derivatives) was not adopted by our Congress hence there are no safeguards to prevent another derivatives debacle from occuring. You heard a lot of talk about the repeal of the repeal of the Glass-Stegall Act. I suggest to you that the original repeal is NOT the problem. The repeal of Glass-Stegall created new competition between the banks, investment banks, and insurance companies. The results are that insurance rates and underwriting fees are as low as they have ever been. What Congress failed to address was leverage as it related to investment and speculation and, until leverage is addressed, nothing else really matters. The result is the resumption of the global high stakes casino.......with your money. Are you angry yet? Are you willing to bail them out again? Are you angry yet?
The sellout of Congress to Wall Street showed us that some of the people fighting financial regulation the hardest were some of the same people responsible for causing the roof to cave in two years ago. Remember twenty years ago? A few of the people who ran failed savings and loans wound up as executives of the RTC (Resolution Trust Corporation), the government vehicle used to clean up the mess. Congress has squandered a golden opportunity to bring some semblance of order back into our financial markets. No playing field can be considered level if one can continue to be blindsided by derivatives fallout. What's it going to take for you to get just a little bit angry?
Twenty years ago, we weren't too concerned about government permanently owning private assets. Government was brought in to clean up a huge mess created by the financial industry in the private sector. When the situation stabilized, government sold off the assets. Today it's different. Take a look at General Motors. It's fate was dictated by government. Are you aware of the entity that really kept GM afloat the last ten years? The real heroes of GM? Don't you dare say the labor unions! It was the bondholders.....the people like you and me who owned GM's debt. The bondholders gave and gave and gave while the unions continued to take and take and take. Who wound up with the controlling interest in GM as it came out of bankruptcy? The unions. Are you angry yet?
Much More To Come
We Got the Funk, Felonius that is...
Gary W. Oakes, CRS, GRI, ABR, e-PRO
Crye-Leike Realtors
Address: 206-A Cool Springs Blvd., #101, Franklin, Tn, 37067
Office Phone: (615) 771-6620
Cell Phone: (615) 400-0098
Listings
Links [add/remove]
Archives
