Let us begin, dear worst-reader, with a worst-writer transcription from a great movie. Sometimes I get a kick out of doing this sort of thing. It has something to do with my love of typing. Here’s another one, if you dare. The reason I chose the movie Trading Places for this post, by-the-buy, is because, in these times of fake newz galore, is there really a difference between (comedic) fiction and all things fake newz? With that in mind, let’s get it on.
The worst-writer transcript below is from the movie Trading Places. For whatever worst-reason, the scene transcribed reminds me of the/a conversion between fiction (fake) and reality. Even though the dialogue reflects something that could actually happen in (real) life, the actors are able to cartoonize it not unlike what President Stupid has done with #Americant.
Disclaimer. I transcribed this by watching a clip on the #Interwebnets. I make no garantee of accuracy–especially since I’ve been drinking a bottle of Aldi Weissbegrunder (Pinot Blanc) for most of this post creation. Indeed. Weissbegrunder and lots of ice is a great way to battle this #Eurowasteland heatwave I’ve never before experienced while living in this gold-cage life for almost a quarter century. Good luck.
Scene: Mortimer Duke, Randolph Duke and William Valentine are sitting in a luxurious, old-money, pseudo aristocratic #Americant office of a Philadelphia, PA, infamous commodities trading firm. They are all watching the commodities market on closed circuit CRT monitors.
Mortimer Duke picks up phone, connects to a commodities trader.
Mortimer: Mortimer here. Buy two-hundred pork-belly contracts at sixty-six point eight.
Valentine: You’re making a big mistake, man.
Mortimer: Valentine, something very important is going on here. Just watch.
Valentine: Alright. But you’all gonna get reemed on this one.
Randolph: Why shouldn’t we buy now, William?
Valentine: The price is going to keep going down.
Mortimer: Randolph, this isn’t Monopoly money we’re playing with.
Randolph picks up closed circuit phone and connects to commodities trader.
Randolph: This is Randolph Duke. Hold that belly order a moment.
Randolph hangs up phone and turns to Valentine.
Randolph: Tell me why you think the price of pork bellies is going down, William.
Valentine: It’s Christmas time. Everybody is uptight.
Valentine gets up out of his chair and walks around the room.
Mortimer: (to Randolph.) Could we please buy now, Randolph.
Valentine: You want to lose money, go ahead.
Randolph: What are you trying to say, William?
Valentine: Ok. Pork belly prices have been dropping all morning. Which means everybody has been sittin’ in their office waiting all morning for the prices to hit rock bottom so they can buy cheap and go long. So the people that own the pork belly contracts are goin’ batshit. They be thinking about losing all that damn money and Christmas is around the corner and I ain’t gonna be able to buy my son the G.I. Joe with the kung-fu grip. Ok. And my wife ain’t gonna want to f… And my wife ain’t gonna make love to me cause I ain’t got no money. So they sittn’ there and they panickin’ and sayin’ sell sell sell! Cause they don’t want to lose all their money, right? They out there panicking right now. I can feel it. They out there. They panickin’. Look at em.
Closed circuit CRT screens shows stats of pork-belly pricies on the commodities market incrementally falling.
Randolph: My God, Mortimer. Look at em.
Valentine: I’d wait till you get to about sixty-four, then I’d buy. You’ll have cleared out all the suckers by then.
Randolph is punching on a pocket calculator.
Randolph: (To Mortimer.) Do you realise how much money he just saved us?
Mortimer: Money isn’t everything, Randolph!
Randolph picks up closed-circuit phone and calls commodities trader.
Randolph: Advise our clients interested in bellies to buy at sixty-four. Mister Valentine has set the price.
Randolph hangs up phone and goes to Valentine and shakes his hand.
Randolph: Well done, William.
Mortimer: (Obviously frustrated. Getting up to join Randolph on way out.) Come on,
Randolph. We’re gonna be late.
Randolph and Mortimer exit and Valentines smiles–as only Eddie Murphy can!
And now on with the worst-post about #Trumpism run amok and all (the) things them #Deplorables will never know.
Why is it so hard to read certain newz stories? Can it have anything to do with the farce of #Deplorable facilitated #FakeNews? Seriously. “Fake news.” Who came up with that? Someone who’s never watched TV in the past thirty years? I mean, get a load of the article below, dear worst-reader. Can you believe that someone or some organisation in the journalist world is trying to sell anything #Trump–or #Americant for that matter–as positive–based on stats and stuff? Oh wait. We’re living in these times, eh. These times of all things fake. And so. If anybody thinks that President Stupid is gonna actually do anything positive for the world, stop thinking. (Not that you actually thought much in recent years.) It’s time for you and your cronies to pack it up, hide your junk, the only women-folk that is gonna fall for you is one that luvs to be grabbed by the…
But on a more worst-serious note: the Reuters article (link below) is really hard to swallow. (Wait. Did I actually just write that? Indeed, I did.) The hardest part about swallowing (it), though, ain’t the mess (left on your face)–but instead the unfake-newz (reality) that President Stupid is really there to wreck everything. The propaganda machine that he has behind him–thanks to Reagan, Rush and faux-newz–is doing a pretty good job of it. Does that mean that Reuters is part of it? Who knows. The unreal question is: considering the state of things, that is, how people are struggling, how the middle class has been decimated, the bar of Stupid has been lowered, this level of optimism and/or misinformation that contains no connection to that struggle, should be reason enough to grab your ankles and hope the inserter brought some lube.
If you’re in anyway invested or vested in what Reuters is reporting… Good luck suckers.
Link that motivated this post: