A new box full of numbers and crap was produced by a bunch of dudes with computers in the financial district today. It features spikes and lines, or whatever. “I have no god damned clue as to what the fuck this means”, says James Dimon, CEO of JP Morgan, “Seriously. If I knew how to read this garbage, do you think we’d be in this shit-covered mess?!”
The spikey lines go really low and really high, then low again, according to scared experts. “How the hell is no one burning down a Starbucks?! These fucking lines foretell the future!” screamed a Georgetown professor, as he ripped off his blood covered shirt. Treasury Secretary Jacob Lew was seen knocking everything off the shelves at a local Target and shoving a guard down, as he ran out without paying. Tossing his shotgun in the back seat of his Ford Escort, Lew shouted at least three obscenities and two racial slurs, as he set fire to the graph in front of a local news camera. He was unavailable for comment.
The bizarre box has numbers and letters in it, that surprisingly have something to do with each other. And the colors of the jagged lines are not the same, which may be of some importance. Reloading a 45mm, Senator Harry Reid (D) was quoted saying, “You people had one job. One fucking job, they say! Oh, yeah?! Well my new fucking job is to bury this silver barrel so far up your ass that the hammer clicks down on your fucking tonsils! Its Armageddon, cocksucker!” While he literally crossed the aisle to his Republican counterparts, John Boehner yelled something about being an archangel of death and delivered a swift scissor kick to the Senate Majority Leader. The bullet, following a trajectory very similar to that weird chart from before that no one will tell me about, landed next to the head of a weeping Nancy Pelosi, who was drawing a Satanic symbol on her face with her favorite lipstick.
Bankers were seen reenacting their favorite group sex scenes from “Wolf of Wallstreet” in the middle of Times Square, as passersby looked on as confused as they did when I showed them the freaky lines that didn’t match. “What’s this? Like American Idol votes?” asked Apple store clerk, Tony Barrett. “When dis goin be on tv? Tonight?! I wanna watch da Real House Bitches of Applebrook County first. Don’t be puttin’ it on urly” inquired Jessica Hatfield, after I pointed out that I had no camera crew and that this was for a newspaper. She stole my phone.
As I walked away from the burning ashes of Goldman Sachs, 8 helicopters rose from nearby roofs, probably whisking away someone who could explain this thing to me. Realizing it has something to do with money and trading it, I reached into my pocket to make sure I still had my Bitcoins. I did. Hopefully I could use them to buy a new phone. A loud horn blared over the President’s speech that I was watching through a shattered window at Best Buy. “Do not despair, my fellow *horn* Americans. This country has survived the Great *horn* Depression and picked ourselves up by our boot straps *horn* before. To those affected by this event, I offer you the severed heads of the Koch brothers.” They cut to commercial.