politics

You’d think a hobo would be a democrat, on account of their support for welfare and anti-anti-hobo-rehabilitation programs. But not this hobo. Truthfully, I’m more blackberry than bum. I like rich people. I think they make the world more glamorous, more pizzaz-ful, more Lohan-esque. They’re America’s royalty. Except instead of crowns and scepters, they have tiaras and encrusted canes. To this day, whenever I walk past a Lincoln Town Car, I say a little pledge of allegiance in my heart. 

Dear Obama: go easy on the rich, or what’s left of them. Without a Yachting-class, we might as well be just one big Delaware.

lobster

I was never a big fan of lobster. To a banker, lobster is like a sandwich — tasty but ordinary and vaguely sinister. But to a hobo, well, a lobster is like the unicorn of the sea, the very flesh of which will make your beard lush and your extremities non-gangrenous. A super-sandwich, if you will.

And so it came to be that I saw a lobster floating along in the east river one fine terrible afternoon. I attempted to fish it out with a broom, and then to trap it between two brooms, and finally just called it to hoarsely. I failed. But I’ll be back. With three brooms.

family

Just got a voicemail from my mom.

“Honey, dad once mentioned to me that all of our savings, including funeral expenses and heirlooms, was invested with a guy named Madoff. Do you think it’s the same Madoff who’s been in the news lately? Also, your dad’s been at the golf course for the last eight days. I guess he’s in the zone. Anyway, give me a call. I’m really looking forward to spending money on you and others.”

competition

The scuttlebutt is that Treo Transient is twittering about his “life experiences on the street”. Let me tell you something about T.T.: he barely worked in finance. I know for a fact he never tasted the golden apple of a AAA-mortgage tranche, that he never once over-leveraged even a lemonade stand. I highly doubt he’s been inside an executive jacuzzi. A poseur, an overpaid excel-jockey. A Sherman McCoy. No more. If you want to read about an Aristophean-fall from on high, stick with me bloggo. Leave twitter to Shaq.

should I go to med school?

pros:

1. would no longer technically be a hobo

2. steady pay, benefits, could treat myself for minor ailments

3. junkets

4. possible promotion to surgeon general

cons:

1. my efforts toward creating a hobo-guild would basically be for naught

2. hospital coffee, kind of eh

3. aversion to lymph and their nodes

job opportunity?

Lehman is hiring again!!!

…

Lehman Mufflers, in Wayne, New Jersey.

And it’s just an internship.

coffee vii

A fancy coffee shop in Chelsea is having a “cupping” this Friday. (a cupping is like a wine-tasting for coffee, except earthier) There’s no admission charge, but in keeping with the zeitgeist, you have to come dressed as a hobo.

movie popcorn

Treo Transient told me about this movie theater on west 23rd that gives away its unsold popcorn every Sunday night at midnight. Well, I show up right on time and sure enough there he is, walking away with the whole supply in two hefty garbage bags. Sorry, he says, you just got arbitraged.

That’s not the wall street I knew.

ex-girlfriend

I saw one of my many many (many) ex-girlfriends today inside a heated art gallery. I guess she didn’t recognize me on account of my facial hair and downtrodden-ness. But the joke’s on her. All of the investment advice I gave her in bed turned out to be worthless!

weather

I used to love a good New York blizzard. Of course, I would always be inside working. From the 32nd floor, I felt above the weather, as if I were a titan casting frost upon the citizenry. Look at them! with their cheap umbrellas and cheaper haircuts. While I got to stay indoors, warmed by the glow of the money-making-machine, taking every fifth bill for myself. 

Frost-bite should in fact be called frost-agony. Where are you now Mayor Bloomberg? Sleeping on a radiator no doubt.