I’m a big dick! Did you hear me? A big messy, fussy, stale dick with lot’s of lucre. I fucking own the media (but why should that matter, it’s a matter of ‘free speech. I bought my political position, and therefore can be more ‘honest’ than other politicians, because I don’t ‘need’ the money. Have you heard this oh-so-compelling argument before? I must insist on a ‘left-wing’ conspiracy, dark persecuting red toga draped Trotskyites visit me at night and play Spanish Civil War songs in my ear to taunt me. I must lay the blame on these wicked politically motivated foes as opposed to my obvious and myriad crimes, coupled as it is with an acute disgust that many may possibly have (not under the corporatist haze of distractions,) with my nations history of ‘funny-business’ regarding money and politics— to put it mildly. God! I’m like fucking AIG insurance, or one of these persecuted and harrowed Investment banks under-siege by the socialists that want to plug up the good times, and force everyone to stop having sex, and take up community work, or compulsory hammer and sickle crocheting, (who are only flanked by former Wall-Street and financial company ‘gurus’ and top dogs for looks, and to deceive the weak eyes of the the business elites of the world who are in fact so fooled. You see, they really take orders from bearded Marxists on radical college campuses eating blueberry flax and Engels diarrhea goulash, somewhere in the Pacific North West. Yeah, it’s me talking, Silvio fucking B, hooker whispering sweetheart of the hard working ‘finance’ north, teenage girl ogling so-called scum-bag of the corporatist-clown-euro-right, Berlusconi the harlequin! Hello dears!