Archive for April 2nd, 2010

Paul Fischer was a man whom all looked with envy. Why you might ask. He checked his bank account Friday night and found his balance like the bean in the Jack and the beanstalk story had shot up to $88,888,888,888.88.

Of course, the balance was a technical error by SunTrust Bank which they fixed in a matter of five hours. If Mr. Fischer was a recipent of Sun Trust I would not be surprised if others also were picked out to their largess, which is always unmerited and uncalled for as the bonus to CEO s in AIG or any other.

The Sun for a symbol suits the finance sector: while the brilliant malefeance of financial wizard blazes skyhigh (like Bernard Madoff or the CEO of Enron) his fortune rises and falls when least expected, we have banks also showing  similar ups and downs.  Sun Trust Bank luckily saved their money for now.

No bank has yet gone under a technical error.  Perhaps if a moron of a robot ( by a mechanical error or an electrical shortcut) transfers / teleports the entire assets, liquid and other, to another robot in another galaxy well my statement will not hold.


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When my sons came of age I gave the eldest a stamp I had but no envelope to stick it on; nor had a friend except one blind count in Florence who couldn’t read a  thing any way. Of course he left his villa to me and I gave to the second oldest. My third son got a painting that I had picked from one of the flea markets on the left bank of Seine, Paris. To my fourth I entrusted a paperweight.  Of course to my last I gave a denture with initials GW.

Before  I could leave this world my eldest son came smug and self assured and said, “You gave me a Penny Black,1840.”

“You have made a fortune?”

“Oh no my dog just chewed to pulp.” said my son Fred.

The second son managed to arrive at my death bed and we hugged and he replied to my queries he had converted his villa into an orphanage for stray dogs. With beating heart I asked what of that western wall on the piano nobile ?

Oh the figure of Christ was nude; so were apostles. So I painted over the whole thing.”

“Son, it was by Michaelangelo.”

“Never heard of him. I had to protect the feelings of the house keeper’.

The next one said the painting was so unlike a face he could live with.

“Matt, it was by Picasso. One from his cubism period”. My son Matthew said, “Picasso or Pickaxe, what do I care? Either you get the face right or use a Canon for gods sake.’

‘My fourth son George, only cared for his own feelings. He was too self centred but he still made my day. I asked what he did with the paper weight.

“How long do I think I can go on feeling a piece of  glass in my pocket?”

“So what did you do?’

“I threw it into the garbage of course.”

I murmured,”Hope Diamond, my paperweight and my nest egg.” What George did not know didn’t hurt him. I greeted my last son and he said,’Pop the denture you gave belonged to some fellow called George Washington. “You think I’ll keep some one’s dentures, the one that didn’t fit him, will sit well with me?’  So my son had smashed it and threw into dust bin. A man’s whole life in the face of such calamity is likely to speed up and mine was in a flash.

Such a stroke made me cured.

“Well, well” I said.  I got up from my bed and said,” A bunch of hopeless idiots I raised up.  I must get down to business.”

All my sons were aghast and tried to restrain me. “No you are  in your death bed.  Stay”

“Oh no,” I was sure. “I must make some money for myself at least. My sons never learned how.”


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