I wandered down the aisles grabbing last minute supplies for our trip to Squamish. I filled a small basket with beer and cheese and bread. As I grabbed the bags, stuffed the change and the reciept in my pocket from my shopping, my phone rang. Max called me from the car. “Hey can you pick me up some cheesey popcorn.”
We arrived in Canada around two am Monday morning after a half hour detour driving lost along random streets in Surrey. The next morning we met Thomasina and Cedar at the Adventure Center and headed to the boulders. It’s been awhile since I climbed in Squamish. There was a lot of trash, bits of tape, band-aids, and empty chalk socks laying around the base of the Black Dyke. The noise from the highway construction blasted into the forest. The rock felt smoother and more polished than I remembered and a lot of the forest felt damp in the morning. By late afternoon, the dankness disappated and the bouldering got good, really good. I flailed while Max sent Baba Hari Dass, and Sit Down to Holm Boy. Thomasina wanted to save skin for the next day.
That night we stayed at the Smoke Bluffs with Thomo, Cedar, Tim Doyle, Israel, Peter Michaux, Ben Harden, and Brent Michelson. Tim, Thomo, Max and I hung out and slandered then got a slow start the next morning to go bouldering. Max and I went over to Golden Boy, which he fired after a few tries of falling at the end. I sent the Sit Down to Holm Boy. That was really rad. I’ve tried that problem a lot over the past four years and it was nice to finish it. Max and I headed out to the Apron where Max fired off Gull Skull. I climbed Cutting Edge, a problem I’d never done. Then we met up with Thomo and climbed on Tatonka. Max and Thomo both fired it. Max and I went to the grocery store and while Tim Doyle watched Cedar, Thomasina fired off the first female ascent of The Egg. Yeah for Thomo!
The next day Max and I drove back. We got stopped at the border and my Saturn was searched. The border patrol confiscated our avacado and hassled us but eventually let us go.
Our original intent for heading up there was to do an interview of Thomasina. She’s been crushing lately. She fired off a bunch of hard problems in Bishop earlier this year then made some rad ticks in Leavenworth. I needed a good photo of Thomasina for the interview but it never worked out. Oh well. I was really happy to see my Canadian friends and get to hang with Thomasina’s and Cedar. They are two cool Pidgeons. I wish I had spent more time in Squamish this summer. I may move back to the Northwest next summer.
I’m leaving Leavenworth on Sunday. Hopefully the weather will stay clear. The forecast calls for rain. I’d like to send my boulder project before I leave. The last time I got on it I fell with my fingers diddling the finish jug. But I need some serious fitness pretty quick if I want to make my November climbing trip pan out. I’m thinking a lot about Zion these days. I’d really like to finish that thing.
Thursday, October 30, 2008
Tim's Windshield
Last week, Tim Doyle drove along the highway in his 1985 Toyota minivan, traveling at roughly 60 kilometers per hour. As he neared town, a Squamish District school bus passed him going 40 kilometers per hour. When the two vehicles passed each other, a Canadian threw a banana out the window. The fruit smashed into Tim's front windshield making a softball crack in the glass and creating a long split down the windshield. Tim turned the vehicle around and chased the school bus. When the driver pulled over to pick up another student, Tim ran up to the yellow beast, slapping on the side of it until the driver let him in.
"Who the fuck threw a mother fucking banana at my window?! You could have killed me! What the fuck!" Tim screamed. The bus driver offered no help nor did the dozen ten and twelve year old students on the bus.
Later, Israel suggested that Tim have the banana finger printed. I recommended that he demand blood, urine, and semen, analysis from all passengers. Regardless, the windshield will cost two hundred dollars, which Tim was hoping to spend on gas to Yosemite. Hopefully, Tim will be able to get compensation from the school district or at least shake some milk money out of the punks who broke his window.
"Who the fuck threw a mother fucking banana at my window?! You could have killed me! What the fuck!" Tim screamed. The bus driver offered no help nor did the dozen ten and twelve year old students on the bus.
Later, Israel suggested that Tim have the banana finger printed. I recommended that he demand blood, urine, and semen, analysis from all passengers. Regardless, the windshield will cost two hundred dollars, which Tim was hoping to spend on gas to Yosemite. Hopefully, Tim will be able to get compensation from the school district or at least shake some milk money out of the punks who broke his window.
Friday, October 17, 2008
Huntin
A man with a rifle slung around his shoulder dragged a large carcass behind him as I climbed in Forestland. The deer's tongue hung out the side of its mouth swinging in circles as the corpse bumped along the small path between the boulders. The hunter stopped, propped his foot up on a knee high boulder, and wiped the sweat off his brow. I stared.
"Nice buck you got there," said one pebble wrestler.
"Yup," the hunter grabbed the deer's antlers and swung its head towards us. "This sum-ma-bitch is a tweleve pointer."
The deer's tongue flopped to the other side of its mouth.
"Pretty proud. P-retty proud. I sawed her in half so I could get her to the car. My boy's wrasslin the other half down. Anyway, got to keep humpin' if I want to mount her today. See you folks later." The hunter grabbed the straps around the deers neck and continued the plod to his car.
Five minutes later, a tweleve year old boy came huffing down the trail, towing the deer's ass and hind quarters. He stopped to breathe for a second, then continued after his pa.
My dad hung a deer from the crab apple tree outside of my grandma's house. My brothers and I watched the blood drain for three days. Nick poked it with a stick and the enormous carcass swung. My dad yelled at us to stop messing around. That winter we ate venison stew, venison steaks, venison stir-fry, venison sandwiches, venison and eggs. We all got pretty sick of venison. Whenever we thought we had stuffed the last piece down, my mother would pull a little more out of the freezer. The meat was cheaper than anything we could get at the grocery store.
There is not much sport in hunting. There's a man with a high powered rifle, complete with techy scope, and there's a deer or elk or bear or some endangered species with little to no knowledge of rednecks wanting to kill it and mount its head on the wall. I guess I do not like hunting much. Seeing the hunter and his son drag the deer by the boulders angered me. Why did they have to kill it? At the same time, I remembered how much venison we ate that winter. We ate the shit out of my father's buck...damn near literally.
Hmm...hunting.
"Nice buck you got there," said one pebble wrestler.
"Yup," the hunter grabbed the deer's antlers and swung its head towards us. "This sum-ma-bitch is a tweleve pointer."
The deer's tongue flopped to the other side of its mouth.
"Pretty proud. P-retty proud. I sawed her in half so I could get her to the car. My boy's wrasslin the other half down. Anyway, got to keep humpin' if I want to mount her today. See you folks later." The hunter grabbed the straps around the deers neck and continued the plod to his car.
Five minutes later, a tweleve year old boy came huffing down the trail, towing the deer's ass and hind quarters. He stopped to breathe for a second, then continued after his pa.
My dad hung a deer from the crab apple tree outside of my grandma's house. My brothers and I watched the blood drain for three days. Nick poked it with a stick and the enormous carcass swung. My dad yelled at us to stop messing around. That winter we ate venison stew, venison steaks, venison stir-fry, venison sandwiches, venison and eggs. We all got pretty sick of venison. Whenever we thought we had stuffed the last piece down, my mother would pull a little more out of the freezer. The meat was cheaper than anything we could get at the grocery store.
There is not much sport in hunting. There's a man with a high powered rifle, complete with techy scope, and there's a deer or elk or bear or some endangered species with little to no knowledge of rednecks wanting to kill it and mount its head on the wall. I guess I do not like hunting much. Seeing the hunter and his son drag the deer by the boulders angered me. Why did they have to kill it? At the same time, I remembered how much venison we ate that winter. We ate the shit out of my father's buck...damn near literally.
Hmm...hunting.
Wednesday, October 15, 2008
Leaving Leavenworth
I leave Leavenworth in three weeks. It will be nice to quit my crappy job but I am not happy to leave my friends. Hanging in the Peshastin house for the summer has been really fun. And I started climbing again. The bouldering here is really good. I am bummed to leave that.
Last week, Thomasina, Cedar, and Brent came down from Squamish to climb for a few days. They stayed in Peshastin and crushed. Brent hiked a bunch of hard classics and Thomasina flashed Atomic Energy, a V9! Very proud. Having Cedar around was fun. She's an awesome little girl. I really liked having Thomasina around too. And it was cool hanging with Brent too.
Anyway, just counting down the days, thinking about heading to Squamish for a couple days, provided it doesn't rain, and hoping to be in shape for a late November trip to Zion.
Oh and my labtop shit the bed. Kate Rutherford gave it to me a little while ago. It was super generous of her. It was old though and the furious pounding on the keyboard fried the rig. If anyone wants to sponsor or sell me an old labtop, let me know. I'm in the market.
Last week, Thomasina, Cedar, and Brent came down from Squamish to climb for a few days. They stayed in Peshastin and crushed. Brent hiked a bunch of hard classics and Thomasina flashed Atomic Energy, a V9! Very proud. Having Cedar around was fun. She's an awesome little girl. I really liked having Thomasina around too. And it was cool hanging with Brent too.
Anyway, just counting down the days, thinking about heading to Squamish for a couple days, provided it doesn't rain, and hoping to be in shape for a late November trip to Zion.
Oh and my labtop shit the bed. Kate Rutherford gave it to me a little while ago. It was super generous of her. It was old though and the furious pounding on the keyboard fried the rig. If anyone wants to sponsor or sell me an old labtop, let me know. I'm in the market.
Saturday, October 4, 2008
Bus Boy Hell
My mother popped me out on December 6, 1981. That makes me twenty-six years old. In between then and today, I managed to graduate from both high school and college, finishing the latter with a degree in Economics and Business Management from the University of California at Santa Cruz. In high school I maintained a 4.0 grade point average at Vermont Academy, graduating cum laude with distinctions in history, mathematics, and English. I played defensive line on the varsity football team, was capitan of the cross country ski team, acted in a few school theatre productions, and was president of the Saturday Morning Swim Club, a polar bear swim team. I entered college a merit scholarship winner but I smoked a lot of hippie lettuce, and skipped classes to go rock climbing. I exited school with far less ambition then I entered. Now, I barely have the qualifications to be a bus boy.
Half of the time, I am broke. The other half of the time, I do not have any money. I finished school at UCSC in the middle of June and headed straight to Yosemite. Graduating was not good. With the sponsorship of Pell Grants and Federal Direct Subsidized Loans, I managed to pay for climbing trips, buy gear, and climb a lot for four steady years. Recieving my degree meant a dry well; no more student loans. I needed to work and be able to climb somewhere. My old friend and climbing partner, Jens Holsten, instisted that I could find a job in Washington. “It will be rad," he told me in the Toulumne Meadows parking lot. "You can stay at the climber's house in Peshastin, you'll just have to spot and belay for room and board. Plus, we can carpool to Leavenworth." The Icicle Ridge Winery needed help in a couple days, and Jens, a typical dirtbag, needed a ride. Imagine that.
I climbed for eight weeks. It was sick. I pulled, cranked, fell, then pulled and cranked more. On week eight I started pulling and cranking, then felt a pop and my palm tingled. The tendons to my pinkie and ring finger tore apart Suddenly my right hand was useless. That meant no climbing and worst yet, no sex life. Jens assured me that I could make it through the recovery, at least I could find employment. He found a job, pouring wine at the Icicle Ridge Winery for minimum wage. Even Max, my roommate, had found work. The Fudge Hut employed Max, having him sell chocolate and wear the local costume for Octoberfest and the tourist filled summer months. He packed fudge in his leiderhosen.
The manager at Viscontis, John Morgan examined my resume. He told me I was overqualified for the position. Obviously, he had never seen me work. He needed help though and three weeks later he hired me as a bus boy for the Italian restaurant. I clear wineglasses, set tables, and box food. I also break glasses, arrive stoned, and hide behind the ice machine when the restaurant becomes busy. The other bussers wonder why I work there. I am old. I have a college degree. The servers think I should apply for John’s job, a position with responsibility, benefits, and stability. I wonder if they hate me.
I'm stuck in Leavenworth, working in bus boy hell, saving money to move and get another dead end job. The move will take me a month. I will drive to San Francisco, climb, drive to Utah, climb, drive to Vegas, climb, and then drive to Boulder. The four weeks of blowing the little bit of loot I scratched from carrying trays of lasgna, will be worth it. I hope.
Half of the time, I am broke. The other half of the time, I do not have any money. I finished school at UCSC in the middle of June and headed straight to Yosemite. Graduating was not good. With the sponsorship of Pell Grants and Federal Direct Subsidized Loans, I managed to pay for climbing trips, buy gear, and climb a lot for four steady years. Recieving my degree meant a dry well; no more student loans. I needed to work and be able to climb somewhere. My old friend and climbing partner, Jens Holsten, instisted that I could find a job in Washington. “It will be rad," he told me in the Toulumne Meadows parking lot. "You can stay at the climber's house in Peshastin, you'll just have to spot and belay for room and board. Plus, we can carpool to Leavenworth." The Icicle Ridge Winery needed help in a couple days, and Jens, a typical dirtbag, needed a ride. Imagine that.
I climbed for eight weeks. It was sick. I pulled, cranked, fell, then pulled and cranked more. On week eight I started pulling and cranking, then felt a pop and my palm tingled. The tendons to my pinkie and ring finger tore apart Suddenly my right hand was useless. That meant no climbing and worst yet, no sex life. Jens assured me that I could make it through the recovery, at least I could find employment. He found a job, pouring wine at the Icicle Ridge Winery for minimum wage. Even Max, my roommate, had found work. The Fudge Hut employed Max, having him sell chocolate and wear the local costume for Octoberfest and the tourist filled summer months. He packed fudge in his leiderhosen.
The manager at Viscontis, John Morgan examined my resume. He told me I was overqualified for the position. Obviously, he had never seen me work. He needed help though and three weeks later he hired me as a bus boy for the Italian restaurant. I clear wineglasses, set tables, and box food. I also break glasses, arrive stoned, and hide behind the ice machine when the restaurant becomes busy. The other bussers wonder why I work there. I am old. I have a college degree. The servers think I should apply for John’s job, a position with responsibility, benefits, and stability. I wonder if they hate me.
I'm stuck in Leavenworth, working in bus boy hell, saving money to move and get another dead end job. The move will take me a month. I will drive to San Francisco, climb, drive to Utah, climb, drive to Vegas, climb, and then drive to Boulder. The four weeks of blowing the little bit of loot I scratched from carrying trays of lasgna, will be worth it. I hope.
Tuesday, September 30, 2008
The Famous Chongo Chuck
The New York Times recently wrote an article on Chongo, a former Yosemite fixture, calling him the "father of big wall climbing." Chongo hasn't climbed in twenty years. He lived in a trailer at Coiler's house for years after getting kicked out of the Valley. He was forced to leave Coiler's and wound up in Sacramento, where he lurks at Pipeworks and with the homeless community there. Why a man who has so little to do with actual climbing is featured in an article about climbing is beyond me.
Sunday, September 28, 2008
Bailout: The Musical
FRAGMENTS FROM BAILOUT! THE MUSICAL featured in the New Yorker written by Ben Greenman
A wallet is on a desk. A DOLLAR BILL pokes his head out.
DOLLAR BILL:
Let me introduce myself
I’m a dollar bill
Once I was the source
Of unlimited goodwill
People all around the world
Thought I was fantastic
The planet ran on paper
Before it ran on plastic
But now trust in me
Has been badly eroded
Thanks to lousy credit
I’ve been overloaded
Next to him, a CREDIT CARD stirs.
CREDIT CARD:
I couldn’t help but overhear
And I have to say I’m shocked
Why the hell would you blame me
And not blame common stocks?
Wasn’t it the market
That fell down on the job
By appealing to the basest
Instincts of the mob?
A STOCK CERTIFICATE rises off the desk nearby and unfolds.
STOCK CERTIFICATE:
Do you really think
That this bad feeling and rancor
Ever would have happened
If not for the bankers?
They’re the ones who led us
Into rank overextension
The way that they have acted
Is beyond my comprehension
The DOLLAR BILL, the CREDIT CARD, and the STOCK CERTIFICATE squabble. The DOLLAR BILL raises his voice. The STOCK CERTIFICATE threatens the CREDIT CARD. Finally, a nearby CHECKBOOK speaks up.
CHECKBOOK:
All of you, stop. Will you, please?
I don’t want to see a fight
The truth is that you all are wrong
And also that you all are right
This fix we’re in, you see
Is unimaginably complex
Monies are all intertwined
Y regresses onto x
Lehman, Merrill, A.I.G.
No one knows a thing, you see
Let’s all relax. Let’s take a rest
The coolest heads can think the best
I have a film I want to show
O.K.?
DOLLAR BILL:
O.K.
CREDIT CARD:
O.K.
STOCK CERTIFICATE:
Let’s go
The CHECKBOOK pulls down a movie screen from the ceiling and, with the CREDIT CARD’s help, starts a projector. An image of Treasury Secretary HENRY PAULSON appears onscreen.
DOLLAR BILL:
Who’s the old guy?
He looks smart
CREDIT CARD:
Shh…the movie’s
About to start
HENRY PAULSON speaks.
HENRY PAULSON:
Come now, travel with me
Back to 2001
Remember the big boom?
That was an awful lot of fun
Alan Greenspan warned
About the bursting bubble
He lowered all the interest rates
To try to forestall trouble
That led in turn to a big run
On purchases of real estate
Offset falling stock prices
With property? It all seemed great
But then the subprime borrowers
Started to default
And our proud economy
Began to grind to a halt
The DOLLAR BILL snores.
CREDIT CARD:
What the hell?
The dollar’s snoring
DOLLAR:
Sorry, guys
This movie’s boring
JOHN MCCAIN appears onscreen.
CHECKBOOK:
It’s going to get exciting quick
That guy with white hair is a maverick
Onscreen, JOHN MCCAIN speaks.
JOHN MCCAIN:
I’m suspending my campaign
To focus on finance
This is a pressing, dire
Unprecedented circumstance
My friends, I want to tell you
I’ll work until the crisis ends
Nothing is more important
I hope you understand, my friends
The first debate must wait
The economy is failing
And sadly that will mean
Delaying Biden-Palin
BARACK OBAMA objects to the postponement.
BARACK OBAMA:
What? You’re kidding
You wouldn’t dare
I’m going down to Mississippi
I’ll expect to see you there
DOLLAR BILL:
I don’t get it at all
My friends? Mississippi?
This movie is weird,
It’s disjointed and trippy
The CHECKBOOK stops the projector.
STOCK CERTIFICATE:
Come on, man. Don’t stop the show
Dollar can’t shut up, you know
CHECKBOOK:
I won’t restart the projector
It’s off for the time being
I want to know that Dollar
Understands the things he’s seeing
DOLLAR BILL:
I understand—I’m sure I do
A financier once dropped a shoe
The second one was due for dropping
But in the meantime, he kept hopping
CHECKBOOK:
I have to say that I’m not sure
I understand your metaphor
CREDIT CARD:
This is insane
Let me explain
The CREDIT CARD turns to the DOLLAR BILL and speaks in a soft voice, trying not to lose his temper.
CREDIT CARD:
Ben Bernanke
Met a bank he
Didn’t like
Then another
And another
He called Mike
Bloomberg, and Bob Dole
Buffett, Nunn, and Volcker
Bernanke and Paulson then
Set up some very high-stakes poker
They bet that they could patch
The holes in the dike
With half a trillion dollars
And perhaps a small tax hike
They thought that now
Was the time to strike
Ben Bernanke
Met a bank he
Didn’t like
DOLLAR BILL:
O.K., O.K.
Let’s watch some more
I promise you
That I won’t snore
The CHECKBOOK restarts the movie. In it, President GEORGE W. BUSH is presiding over an emergency meeting.
GEORGE W. BUSH:
Let me start by saying
That I don’t understand
A single thing about
The Invisible Hand
Or rates, or banks, or credit
Or mortgages or loans
But I know where my big desk is
And how to use the phones
And that is why I’ve called you
Here this afternoon
We need to fix this problem
And we need to fix it soon
A panic now is creeping
Over city, state, and town
If money isn’t loosened up
This sucker could go down
The group turns to WARREN BUFFET for advice, since he is massively rich.
WARREN BUFFET:
This economic Pearl Harbor
Has cooled off investors’ ardor
Everything must be adjusted
We need some help or we’ll be busted
A $700 billion bailout is proposed. REPUBLICAN CONGRESSIONAL LEADERSHIP is displeased.
REPUBLICAN CONGRESSIONAL LEADERSHIP:
We remain staunchly defiant
Government can’t get too giant
Seven hundred billion is an awful lot to spend
When we don’t even know how deep the cracks extend
The Presidential candidates weigh in on the political implications of the crisis.
JOHN MCCAIN:
Party lines are unimportant
We need a united front
BARACK OBAMA:
So why’d you try to sink the debate?
It felt to some like a self-serving stunt
SARAH PALIN:
Look! It’s Russia, over there
Have I mentioned that I hunt?
A compromise is reached. HENRY PAULSON and BEN BERNANKE announce it.
HENRY PAULSON:
Our commitment to financial health
Will soon restore the nation’s wealth
BEN BERNANKE:
It should recover fairly briskly
If not you’ll find me in the whiskey
The film ends.
DOLLAR BILL:
Where’s the rest?
I want to see how it turns out
CHECKBOOK:
Well, it isn’t over yet
We’re in a time of fear and doubt
A major economic funk
DOLLAR BILL:
I have to say, that movie stunk
The DOLLAR BILL, the CREDIT CARD, the STOCK CERTIFICATE, and the CHECKBOOK decide to play cards instead. The DOLLAR BILL, surprisingly, wins most of the hands.
—Ben Greenman
A wallet is on a desk. A DOLLAR BILL pokes his head out.
DOLLAR BILL:
Let me introduce myself
I’m a dollar bill
Once I was the source
Of unlimited goodwill
People all around the world
Thought I was fantastic
The planet ran on paper
Before it ran on plastic
But now trust in me
Has been badly eroded
Thanks to lousy credit
I’ve been overloaded
Next to him, a CREDIT CARD stirs.
CREDIT CARD:
I couldn’t help but overhear
And I have to say I’m shocked
Why the hell would you blame me
And not blame common stocks?
Wasn’t it the market
That fell down on the job
By appealing to the basest
Instincts of the mob?
A STOCK CERTIFICATE rises off the desk nearby and unfolds.
STOCK CERTIFICATE:
Do you really think
That this bad feeling and rancor
Ever would have happened
If not for the bankers?
They’re the ones who led us
Into rank overextension
The way that they have acted
Is beyond my comprehension
The DOLLAR BILL, the CREDIT CARD, and the STOCK CERTIFICATE squabble. The DOLLAR BILL raises his voice. The STOCK CERTIFICATE threatens the CREDIT CARD. Finally, a nearby CHECKBOOK speaks up.
CHECKBOOK:
All of you, stop. Will you, please?
I don’t want to see a fight
The truth is that you all are wrong
And also that you all are right
This fix we’re in, you see
Is unimaginably complex
Monies are all intertwined
Y regresses onto x
Lehman, Merrill, A.I.G.
No one knows a thing, you see
Let’s all relax. Let’s take a rest
The coolest heads can think the best
I have a film I want to show
O.K.?
DOLLAR BILL:
O.K.
CREDIT CARD:
O.K.
STOCK CERTIFICATE:
Let’s go
The CHECKBOOK pulls down a movie screen from the ceiling and, with the CREDIT CARD’s help, starts a projector. An image of Treasury Secretary HENRY PAULSON appears onscreen.
DOLLAR BILL:
Who’s the old guy?
He looks smart
CREDIT CARD:
Shh…the movie’s
About to start
HENRY PAULSON speaks.
HENRY PAULSON:
Come now, travel with me
Back to 2001
Remember the big boom?
That was an awful lot of fun
Alan Greenspan warned
About the bursting bubble
He lowered all the interest rates
To try to forestall trouble
That led in turn to a big run
On purchases of real estate
Offset falling stock prices
With property? It all seemed great
But then the subprime borrowers
Started to default
And our proud economy
Began to grind to a halt
The DOLLAR BILL snores.
CREDIT CARD:
What the hell?
The dollar’s snoring
DOLLAR:
Sorry, guys
This movie’s boring
JOHN MCCAIN appears onscreen.
CHECKBOOK:
It’s going to get exciting quick
That guy with white hair is a maverick
Onscreen, JOHN MCCAIN speaks.
JOHN MCCAIN:
I’m suspending my campaign
To focus on finance
This is a pressing, dire
Unprecedented circumstance
My friends, I want to tell you
I’ll work until the crisis ends
Nothing is more important
I hope you understand, my friends
The first debate must wait
The economy is failing
And sadly that will mean
Delaying Biden-Palin
BARACK OBAMA objects to the postponement.
BARACK OBAMA:
What? You’re kidding
You wouldn’t dare
I’m going down to Mississippi
I’ll expect to see you there
DOLLAR BILL:
I don’t get it at all
My friends? Mississippi?
This movie is weird,
It’s disjointed and trippy
The CHECKBOOK stops the projector.
STOCK CERTIFICATE:
Come on, man. Don’t stop the show
Dollar can’t shut up, you know
CHECKBOOK:
I won’t restart the projector
It’s off for the time being
I want to know that Dollar
Understands the things he’s seeing
DOLLAR BILL:
I understand—I’m sure I do
A financier once dropped a shoe
The second one was due for dropping
But in the meantime, he kept hopping
CHECKBOOK:
I have to say that I’m not sure
I understand your metaphor
CREDIT CARD:
This is insane
Let me explain
The CREDIT CARD turns to the DOLLAR BILL and speaks in a soft voice, trying not to lose his temper.
CREDIT CARD:
Ben Bernanke
Met a bank he
Didn’t like
Then another
And another
He called Mike
Bloomberg, and Bob Dole
Buffett, Nunn, and Volcker
Bernanke and Paulson then
Set up some very high-stakes poker
They bet that they could patch
The holes in the dike
With half a trillion dollars
And perhaps a small tax hike
They thought that now
Was the time to strike
Ben Bernanke
Met a bank he
Didn’t like
DOLLAR BILL:
O.K., O.K.
Let’s watch some more
I promise you
That I won’t snore
The CHECKBOOK restarts the movie. In it, President GEORGE W. BUSH is presiding over an emergency meeting.
GEORGE W. BUSH:
Let me start by saying
That I don’t understand
A single thing about
The Invisible Hand
Or rates, or banks, or credit
Or mortgages or loans
But I know where my big desk is
And how to use the phones
And that is why I’ve called you
Here this afternoon
We need to fix this problem
And we need to fix it soon
A panic now is creeping
Over city, state, and town
If money isn’t loosened up
This sucker could go down
The group turns to WARREN BUFFET for advice, since he is massively rich.
WARREN BUFFET:
This economic Pearl Harbor
Has cooled off investors’ ardor
Everything must be adjusted
We need some help or we’ll be busted
A $700 billion bailout is proposed. REPUBLICAN CONGRESSIONAL LEADERSHIP is displeased.
REPUBLICAN CONGRESSIONAL LEADERSHIP:
We remain staunchly defiant
Government can’t get too giant
Seven hundred billion is an awful lot to spend
When we don’t even know how deep the cracks extend
The Presidential candidates weigh in on the political implications of the crisis.
JOHN MCCAIN:
Party lines are unimportant
We need a united front
BARACK OBAMA:
So why’d you try to sink the debate?
It felt to some like a self-serving stunt
SARAH PALIN:
Look! It’s Russia, over there
Have I mentioned that I hunt?
A compromise is reached. HENRY PAULSON and BEN BERNANKE announce it.
HENRY PAULSON:
Our commitment to financial health
Will soon restore the nation’s wealth
BEN BERNANKE:
It should recover fairly briskly
If not you’ll find me in the whiskey
The film ends.
DOLLAR BILL:
Where’s the rest?
I want to see how it turns out
CHECKBOOK:
Well, it isn’t over yet
We’re in a time of fear and doubt
A major economic funk
DOLLAR BILL:
I have to say, that movie stunk
The DOLLAR BILL, the CREDIT CARD, the STOCK CERTIFICATE, and the CHECKBOOK decide to play cards instead. The DOLLAR BILL, surprisingly, wins most of the hands.
—Ben Greenman
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