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Journal Of Precognitive Memories

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09-01-2012
The Gospel of Wealth: Towards a New Generation of American Consumership By Jim Chaffee
08-01-2011
Rick Perry leads Baal worshippers in prayer meeting By Pig Bodine M.Sc., Ph.D., BM2, BEM, MAD, MDMA
02-01-2011
A Film Too Far: The Battle of the Strait of Hormuz By Jim Chaffee
08-01-2010
Maurice Stoker quasireviews The Vicious Circulation of Dr. Catastrophe: A Polemical Ensemble by Kane X. Faucher By Maurice Stoker
06-01-2010
Boozer Allan Hamilton Justifies the Tea Party By Boozer Allan Hamilton
04-15-2010
Keith Olbermann Freaks Out Pig Bodine By Pig Bodine
06-15-2009
Saving California: Secession and the Reagan Scheme By Pig Bodine
05-15-2009
Maurice Stoker on Tom Bradley's Even the Dog Won't Touch Me By Maurice Stoker
12-15-2008
Two Glad Tidings from The Marshall By Marshall Smith
11-01-2008
Sarah Palin's Party of God By Maurice Stoker
09-15-2008
Double-Ended Dildos Manufactured at Cosmodrome By Kane X. Faucher
07-15-2008
At the Airport By Tom Bradley
05-01-2008
Building the Perfect Weapon By Thomas Sullivan
04-01-2008
CNBC Wins Pequod Institute Award for Excellence in High School Journalism By Pig Bodine, M.Sc., Ph.D., BM2, BEM, MAD, MDMA
03-01-2008
Pig Bodine's Funky Financial Cooze Network Topological Finance for Aging Bald Dudes By Pig Bodine, M.Sc., Ph.D., BM2, BEM, MAD, MDMA
12-01-2007
Un Mensaje Navideño del Director General Por Sandra Ramos Rossi
Christmas Parades are a Deadly Derangement of Culture and other Seasonal Asides by Kane X. Faucher
11-01-2007
Euphotan, Protoplasmic Flash, and their Properties by Nail, with commentary by Chevy the Scientist
10-01-2007
Suggested reading, Universitatis Merdalina Literature 734.5, Advanced Topics in Mathematical Literature: Pseudo-British/American/Pidgin English Literature, Tensor Products of Novels and Poetry for Quasi-Conformal Plagiarism in Modern Genre and its Relationship to Sexual Identity and Morphisms by Maurice Stoker
08-01-2007
The Unexamined Life in Hell: Peregrinations Across The Diagnosis by Alan Lightman by Maurice Stoker
06-01-2007
Presidential Politics in the Year of the Toad by Boozer Allan Hamilton Ph.D.
04-01-2007
An Eleventh Tonkin Scenario by Donald Dickerson
03-01-2007
The Second Annual Howard Littlefield Boosterism Award for Economic Forecasting Awarded to Boozer Allan Hamilton by Pig Bodine, M.Sc., Ph.D., BM2, BEM, MAD, MDMA
12-01-2006
Maurice Stoker On Writing a Prize Winning Best Seller by Maurice Stoker
11-01-2006
¿Study says lack of talent? by Pig Bodine M.S., Ph.D., BM2, BEM, MAD, MDMA
08-01-2006
US Cracks International Terrorist Ring by Maurice Stoker
06-01-2006
Pig Bodine Solves the US Immigration and Education Dilemmas in One Blow by Pig Bodine M.S., Ph.D., BM2, BEM, MAD, MDMA
05-01-2006
Maurice Stoker Anent Two Errors in Thomas Pynchon’s Mason and Dixon by Maurice Stoker
Full PAM Archive
Side Photo for Journal of Precognitive Memories

Pig Bodine's Funky Financial Cooze Network Topological Finance for Aging Bald Dudes

For Bennie Pearson

Streetmarket, Moema, Sao Paulo

The set bleeds blue. Billboard-sized monitors litter the bluish background of a bright hue darkly removed from sky- or ocean-blue. On a stage of some sort, a man and a woman. Standing side by side talking to a camera it seems, since an image is transmitted electromagnetically. Via waves, that is, if you are a believer in such.

She: long-haired blonde with wide perpetually-smiling mouth; massive round eyes, doe-eyes but blue not brown. Caught-in-headlights Keane eyes. True blonde. Clad in baby-blue shapeless mound of cloth as unrevealing as a mollusk within a shell.

He: skinny dweeb without much excuse to live except to act as anchor for the eye-candy beside him. Dressed in narrow lapel suit almost like Lenny Bruce suit but blue, skinny tie. Single-breasted in case needs to be spelled out.

She ain't exactly eye-candy, more to the taste of the aging males who inhabit make-believe finance. For playmates, or mind-candy if not for actual playmates. These guys ought to get out more, hit the brothels (avoid the boring strip joints filled with women best left clothed; at least this blonde understands it best to cover her own meager and aging assets completely, giving the hope of more).

Random and assorted talking-heads appear on the screens to yammer. The conversations sort of go like this:

Male-in-charge (Dweeb): Well, Angie, what does Mr. Mark say about the prospects for making money?

Blond quasi-babe (Blondie): Oh, gee, let's ask him. After the break we'll discover whether its time to buy in Coal Space or not.

Commercial interruption for executive training correspondence course. Learn to brownnose like a pro. All the great managers started out slurping runny brown poop from malingering bozos assholes, just like a bitches with new pups. This is a proven path to success. Guaranteed to keep you from ever working. No thinking, no risk, no experience required. Not even necessary to read English, or any other language. The great ones all liked licking buttholes and you can too. MBA from recognized university with your name not only on a diploma, but also with their registrar's office for maximum resume leverage. Call now. Don't wait. Some of America's greatest executives went through our program.

Commercial interruption for magic investment software. Invest like a pro. Guaranteed to triple your investment portfolio's value within the first six weeks of trading. No experience or brain necessary. Turn-key operation. Make money while you sleep, masturbate, get drunk, whatever. All you need is a computer of the right specifications.

Mr. Mark, a disembodied head in a blue background appears on a screen. His nose is large with black hair fanning from the two orifices, his ears both downed with black hair. His bald head shines as with a fallen halo. Bushy eyebrows meeting above the nose distract from the mouth moving as if without muscular tie to the face.

Blondie: Mr. Mark, how are you today? Have we bottomed? Is it time to get in Coal Space?

Dweeb: Are you buying yet?

Mr. Mark: Oh, yes, indeedy, Coal Space has certainly bottomed and it's certainly time to throw money in that black hole. We're buying like a motherfucker.

Mr. Bobby (also bald, skin like putty) on Screen Two: Oh come now Marcus, you said Coal Space had bottomed last week and it dropped a full thirteen percent since then.

Mr. Mark: Well, Roberto, you ought to be able to tell a random excursion due to a hyperactive diffusion term from a bottoming of the drift term. I thought you were more competent with technical analysis.

Mr. Bobby: Our analysis indicates the trend is down. No bottom yet.

Mr. Mark: Our models show that the resistance is holding and we are looking for a new support level. Coal space bottomed two days ago.

Blondie: If the bottom has been tested, why did coal space drop two hundred points today?

Streetmarket, Moema, Sao Paulo

Mr. Bobby: Your using too short a moving average.

Mr. Mark: We use an ARIMA model. Proprietary.

Mr. Mole on Screen Three: Oh, yeah? What's the probability of a recession?

Dweeb: Wait, Mr. Mole. You aren't supposed to be on yet, the recession segment is next up.

Mr. Weevil on Screen Four: Back off Mr. Dweeb. We're moving at a different velocity and so you're then is our now. And our model says the probability of recession is sixty percent.

A hand reaches out from Screen Five and drags Blondie in, screaming and kicking.

Commercial interruption for new reality game show. Contestants convince a panel of rich old bald guys how they would parcel out a million dollars to the working proles. The winner is given a one-time bonus of a million in spending credits and a camera crew tracks as he or she shops, eats, fucks, and otherwise lives it up while supporting the loser class.

A blue-eyed brownette takes Blondie's place, shoulder length mousy hair, skirt just a hint above the kneeline revealing fattish knees and perhaps boxy thighs, certainly chunky thighs; thinks she's a babe, though. Shows in her eyes. Call her Wannababe.

Wannababe: Our next guest is the CEO of the successful film production company The Bang Brothers. Welcome Mr. Bang.

A blank face appears in Screen Five: You can have the blonde back in an hour or so. We've got a deal. We're working a new series and we want celebrity MILFs from finance TV. You might know our series of local anchor-babes has sold like hotcakes.

Wannababe: What made you choose to finance TV for your next series?

Blank Face: Well, we thought it would be faster than doing the international networks. There are some interesting MILFs on the BBC, you know. The local anchor quality was higher, but wider choice helps. We were at first frankly disappointed at the finance chicks, mostly MILFs. Like you, there, dowdy. You know.

Wannababe: I don't think I'm dowdy.

Blank Face: Trust me on this one, baby.

Dweeb: So you are quite successful. It seems you will go public soon.

Blank Face: Yeah. We got an IPO on the NASDAQ coming out next month. Expect to raise big bucks. You'd be amazed how expensive the dowdy news babes are. Usually bitch's is damn cheap, actually. The money's only an excuse. No one really acts in porn for money. It's the call of the fetish.

Commercial interruption for Reverend Little Billy of the First Church of The Market Congregational. Let Reverend Little Billy interpret the Message of The Market for you. Remember The Market punishes the financial sinner but rewards the financially upright. We can put you on the financial straight and narrow. Firmware implants free with ten year subscription.

Mr. Mole: We don't think we'll be buying. The Porn Space is totally disconnected.

Mr. Weevil: We're buying. This business is recession proof.

Mr. Mole: Look, there is no recession coming. Our model says the probability is less than five percent.

Mr. Weevil: You still using that nutty Bayesian model with a uniform prior on the whole line?

Mr. Mole: Oh, no. We moved to Wiener measure on BUC.

Mr. Weevil: About time you made it to the mid-1950s. We use a proprietary Levy measure.

Mr. Mole: Well, our chief scientists says your function space is too tiny. Cramped.

Mr. Weevil: Yeah, and your Radon-Nikodym derivatives suck.

Mr. Mole: Whatever. Porn space is totally disconnected.

Mr. Weevil: You thought finance space was 0-dimensional and T1, too. We showed that limits were unique, so it had to be at least Hausdorff.

Mr. Mole: We fired that guy.

Wannababe is at the Blank Face whispering and giggling. She steps back with the silence.

Wannababe: So what's the beef with totally disconnected. Compact metrics are continuous images of the Cantor set.

Blank Face: Yes, but everyone knows that continuous images of totally disconnected spaces need not be totally disconnected.

Mr. Weevil: True enough. But this little bit of cooze here can be excused for not knowing her topological economics, being a broad and all. But Mr. Mole is also ignorant of that fact.

Mr. Mole: Mork and Liecsne showed health space isn't even first-countable. Those are our people. We made plenty on that.

Mr. Weevil: But is it Fréchet-Urysohn? Of course not. Blarney showed it is not only not Hausdorff, it isn't even T1. So not only can we not talk about sequences, we can't even talk about limits. If we cast nets we don't get unique limits.

Wannababe: Filter it, then.

Blank Face: LMFAO ROF at her joke.

Mr. Mole: I don't believe it.

Mr. Weevil: What do you mean? The proof is not hard to see.

Mr. Mole: I don't accept it, that's all.

Mr. Weevil: You have a counterexample?

Mr. Mole: Don't need one. I have my gut.

Dweeb: Come on now let's at least be civil gentlemen.

Wannababe: What difference does totally disconnected make anyway. Has anyone seen my Cantor fan?

Blank Face: Mr. Mole thinks that porn space is therefor in a state of perfect competetion.

Wannababe: Competition's good, isn't it?

Blank Face: Not for investors. They like to wait for agglomeration to occur.

Dweeb: Of course, we all know that perfect competition means profit is impossible.

Blank Face: I want to assure you all that we are the big player. Things are are already coalescing around us. And remember: labor costs are low. Just like prostitution and kick-boxing, among other professions, no one goes into porn for money. Its art. And fetish. But we, like the Medicis, know how to make a profit. And we do profit, too. Fetish sells.

Streetmarket cleanup, Moema, Sao Paulo

Mr. Mole: We don't think you guys can survive.

Blank Face: What would be the impact of the blonde MILF who we just put on DVD not five minutes ago getting together with this MILF here in the midst of an all-out gang bang?

A disheveled Blondie appears and begins necking with Wannababe. Mr. Mole stares.

Dweeb: Isn't the word you want effect? I mean, impact is more like billiard balls colliding. This is not so percussive.

Mr. Weevil: The word impact is perfect. Look at Mr. Mole's tongue hanging out. It's an old bald dude's dream.

Blank Face: Well, of course our inspiration was from a number of sources. The Dark Brothers, the Coen Brothers, Pasolini. We think these two slightly used MILFs—

Blondie and Wannababe break from a long kiss and say in two-part harmony:

Blondie and Wannababe: We are not mothers. So we cannot be MILFs.

Blondie unbuttons Wannababe's blouse and pulls a small lumpish tit with a huge brown nipple from its lace enclosure, fondles it as they kiss. Wannababe's hand worms its way past the skirt band of Blondie who moves her ass to position.

Blank Face: They will be perfect in a remake of that classic Down for the Count.

Dweeb: I don't know it.

Blank Face: It was part of Gangbang Girl 18. Sabrina Johnson in a boxing ring with a dozen or so guys. We studied it extensively in film school. Spent an entire semester in one of the porn seminars on Sabrina. She's a successful writer, too, you know. Did some directing too. And she's barely thirty now. A genius. Used Nicki Brantz, her costar in that film, to amazing effect. You knew right away from the very beginning who the brain is.

A long silence.

Blank Face: Which of you two MILFs will be the Sabrina of this remake?

Blondie and Wannabe have begun to put themselves back together.

Wannababe, smoothing her hair: Me.

Blondie, checking her face in a small mirror, touching up lipstick: Me.

Blank Face: Maybe one of you will take a crack at her record. She did 2000 men in 2 days in 2000.

Cut to commercial for The True and Complete Story of 'Machine Gun' Jack McGurn by Amanda J. Parr.

All characters are children made-up to look like adults. Their clothes, suits, shoes and such, are too big. No animals except those fried by the electricity used in the development of this work were injured, killed or tortured.

©The Drill Press for FFCN 2008

Pig Bodine, M.Sc., Ph.D.,BM2, BEM, MAD, MDMA

dead pig on a motorscooter

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