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The Three Financiers by Eric Bryant and Alexandre Dumas
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Themen: finanzen englisch roman Kategorie: Literatur/Texte/Lyrik
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| Autor: |  |
| Veröffentlicht: | 2011 |
| Art des Textes: | Roman/Epos |
| Thema: | Roman |
| Lizenz: |  Namensnennung, nicht kommerziell, keine Bearbeitung |
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On April 1st, 2008, the town of Princeton appeared to be in a state of counterrevolution,
as if Richard Nixon’s corpse had just been voted President-for-life. The people shopping
on the strip walked and talked like they were high on sleeping pills. The cars waiting at red
lights had garden hoses taped between their exhaust pipes and driver’s side windows.
Many of the townsfolk, observing from a distance the futile gestures that animated their
daily lives, forgot that they had ever dreamed of anything but this.
In that period, entire lifetimes passed without registering a single noteworthy event.
It’s not that nothing was happening; on the contrary, history was moving at a breakneck
pace, and nobody was immune. The problem was that events occurred in such rapid
succession that there was no time to think or reflect or even give a rat’s ass before the next
event came along. Some incredible outrage would be perpetrated; some absurd act of
violence would shatter the limits of what we thought possible; some worthy idea would be
trampled into the dust by the overwhelming strength of stupidity, and then… something
even worse would happen, making us nostalgic for the tender innocence we had possessed
just 5 minutes earlier.
And so, nobody was particularly surprised when a carelessly thrown cigarette ignited a
pool of gasoline in the parking lot of the local Pump ‘n Jump. The flames spread quickly,
running up a refueling hose attached to a ‘96 Geo Metro. Hearing screams, and opening
the door of the porta-potty where he had gone to relieve himself, our young hero–
But let us trace his portrait with a single stroke of the pen.
Picture to yourself Donald Trump at eighteen – Donald Trump on welfare, clothed in
ready-to-wear threads. His countenance was white and pasty; the cheek-bones chaotically
uneven, denoting mathematical ability; the muscles of the jaw stressfully developed – an
infallible mark by which the aspiring stockbroker may be recognized, even without a shiteating
grin, and our youth wore a shit-eating grin, as well as a feathered cap.
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as if Richard Nixon’s corpse had just been voted President-for-life. The people shopping
on the strip walked and talked like they were high on sleeping pills. The cars waiting at red
lights had garden hoses taped between their exhaust pipes and driver’s side windows.
Many of the townsfolk, observing from a distance the futile gestures that animated their
daily lives, forgot that they had ever dreamed of anything but this.
In that period, entire lifetimes passed without registering a single noteworthy event.
It’s not that nothing was happening; on the contrary, history was moving at a breakneck
pace, and nobody was immune. The problem was that events occurred in such rapid
succession that there was no time to think or reflect or even give a rat’s ass before the next
event came along. Some incredible outrage would be perpetrated; some absurd act of
violence would shatter the limits of what we thought possible; some worthy idea would be
trampled into the dust by the overwhelming strength of stupidity, and then… something
even worse would happen, making us nostalgic for the tender innocence we had possessed
just 5 minutes earlier.
And so, nobody was particularly surprised when a carelessly thrown cigarette ignited a
pool of gasoline in the parking lot of the local Pump ‘n Jump. The flames spread quickly,
running up a refueling hose attached to a ‘96 Geo Metro. Hearing screams, and opening
the door of the porta-potty where he had gone to relieve himself, our young hero–
But let us trace his portrait with a single stroke of the pen.
Picture to yourself Donald Trump at eighteen – Donald Trump on welfare, clothed in
ready-to-wear threads. His countenance was white and pasty; the cheek-bones chaotically
uneven, denoting mathematical ability; the muscles of the jaw stressfully developed – an
infallible mark by which the aspiring stockbroker may be recognized, even without a shiteating
grin, and our youth wore a shit-eating grin, as well as a feathered cap.
Gesamtes Dokument lesen »
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