Hollywood Riot

Guest post by Agnis Murray, President of the Pinewood Avenue Board of Regents

Hello America! Not sure about you, but I’m sick and tired of bailing out rich money grubbers controlling the stock market when my own cul-de-sac of Pinewood Avenue continues to sacrifice, week after week. What is so darn special about this Wall Street, anyway? The Pinewood Avenue Board of Regents, of which I am chapter president, had to make some serious cutbacks over the summer and I blame all these failing cash lenders. No more free yard decorations, no more curbside trimming pick up, and definitely no End of the Ave Year End Festival and BBQ. You see, the PBR acts responsibly with the $7 bi-annual dues we collect, unlike the credit strapped fat cats on that other Street. They can’t manage a few simple hedge funds, while I’m out breaking my neck to make sure every household receives a monthly newsletter. My electronic printer uses a lot of ink, and ink ain’t cheap. (Hint: I dilute the printing solution with tap water to get the best bang for my buck. Nobody even notices!)

Therefore, I’ve decided to purchase one of these troublesome banks and relocate it to Pinewood Avenue. If I can ensure my residents leaf-free sewer drains 365 days out of the year, I can guarantee to put up one of those little signs that say your deposit is insured by the FDIC. Aren’t those comforting? In any bank of mine, those little placards would be everywhere- just to remind people that their retirement accounts are super safe at the local Pinewood Branch. And if you default on your home loan? Well, let’s just say we don’t exactly encourage vagrancy on our oak-lined piece of paradise. In fact, we prosecute.
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As you can see from our first staff photo (above), I’ve hired a top notch team of tellers, mortgage specialists, and elderly security guards to handle all of your financial needs. If my calculations are correct, the PBR is looking at a new annual budget of just under $45 billion.

Trust me, it couldn’t have come at a better time. With the great goose migration underway, people are looking to wash their cars. Guess who offers free soap and water spicket access? Pinewood Branch. Perhaps you’re in the mood for a waffle to go along with your new, low interest auto loan? Just saddle up to our Breakfast Bar. Stressed out over your kid’s college costs? We have an US Army recruiting office right inside! Take that, Wall Street, take it right up the corporate loophole you crawled out of. There’s a new sheriff in town, and her name is Supervising Manager Murray. (Of course, you can call me Agnis.)

Pinewood Branch: We Bend… but Never Break

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Um, no. Most certainly - unequivocally - no. If I had done, essentially, what AIG and the lot have done (gambled my money away on ill-conceived bets promising hyped, but uncertain rewards) I would no sooner be getting a “bailout” from the government than I would be able to listen to Sarah Palin talk without wanting to stab a fork into my eyeball. If I lost my shirt at the blackjack table, then asked the pit boss for a “bailout,” I’d be laughed all the way out of town. Or beat up. One of the two.

I don’t pretend to be an economist, read ‘The Economist’, or even know any economists (my friends are cooler than that), but this whole thing stinks. Sure, I barely understand it, but I’m smart enough to know when something isn’t right. And this isn’t right.

Freddie Mae and Fannie Mac CEO’s Daniel Mudd and Richard Syron, respectively, were paid $9.2 million and $15 million in their bailout. Wait… WTF? Since when do we reward absolute failure with a $15 million bonus? Oh right, since someone gave Secretary of the Treasury/Ultimate Douchebag Paulson supreme power over our tax money. I sure as hell didn’t authorize that. Did you?

Just read Section 8 of the proposed bailout package and you can see they’re up to no good. It reads, in its entirety…

Decisions by the Secretary pursuant to the authority of this Act are non-reviewable and committed to agency discretion, and may not be reviewed by any court of law or any administrative agency.

So they (being the the Executive Branch) can do whatever they want with this bailout package and no one, no where, has the authority to question it. Sounds like a Bush deal if I’ve ever heard one.

Naughty Section 8 is being called “a provision that evokes the Bush administration’s suspension of normal constitutional safeguards in its conduct of foreign policy and national security.”

And then we have ol’ Spanky Bernenke droning on about the “global economy collapsing” and so on and so forth, but not elaborating on any particular scenario. Bernenke, you old codger, what exactly does that mean? Would the rest of the world be as poor as we are? Would the Euro begin to resemble the dollar? What?

Kids, the moral of the lesson (and any good economic lesson in the U.S. it seems) is that it’s good to be a bank. And even better to be the CEO of a failed bank that lost a shitload of money and drove itself so far into the ground it was financing Satan’s inflated mortgage.

The only person I trust on this issue is Ron Paul. Why he isn’t in charge of this whole mess is beyond me. He’s certainly the only one who seems to know what he’s talking about… this bailout’s bullshit.

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It’s the latest in a series of embarrassing disclosures regarding Republican VP candidate Sarah Palin. A sex tape featuring the Alaskan governor and her British Petroleum working husband, Todd - simply titled ImPalin’ – supposedly features 3 hours of wild North Slope action. With chapter names like “Dressin’ Down a Moose in the Buff”, “Fishin’ for Sarah Barracuda”, “Populatin’ Palin Style” and “Jesus Between Her Legs”, we can only imagine. Thankfully, the production company responsible for stealing this tape from the Palin’s summer igloo and releasing it on the Internet sent Hollywood Riot an early mock-up of the box art.

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Oh, Sarah Palin, you silly Alaskan goofball, you. You said pitbull and lipstick in the same sentence. Ha! Don’t you know what lipstick means in dog speak?

Let’s think about this for a second, shall we. What does a dog have that looks like lipstick? Let me give you a hint… it only happens when they get really excited. (Kind of like you get when you kill a polar bear or cash a fat check from British Petroleum.) Um, yeah.

Let’s pretend for a second that “dog lipstick” isn’t just a nice word for the pink end of a dog’s boner and take a look at the other differences between you and a pitbull. Hmmm… well, you have the same pointy ears, the same lunatic look in your eyes, and you’re both complete assholes.

There’s just one notable difference I can see - where the hell’s your muzzle?

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Who the… ?!?

Let’s all think up an ironic death for this vehicle owner.

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