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From coast to coast, men and women are to be seen lurching, cross-eyed, or bearing blank stares, after being subjected to Federal Reserve Chairman Alan Greenspan's blood-sucking promises of a miraculous midnight rebirth for almost everybody's credit-card. But, only the all-night suckers believed him. You may encounter these suckers, roaming the streets like so many Victims of the Vampire. They may appear, like spectres, at political meetings, in encounters on the streets, or mouthing lunatic phrases on the screen of a television set. In husky shouts and meaningless murmurs, these specimens from the lurch of the living dead reveal themselves by emitting brainless hoarse cries, such as "The recovery is here!" Or, he may simply sound his death-rattle-like "Re .. re ... recover ...ver...ver," as his last croaking mutter, before toppling, exhausted, into the gutter of his repose. Another zombie-like creature lurches to the edge of the skyscraper roof. "He points a mocking finger toward you, leering, as he says "Give it up. You will only...." before he trips over the edge and we hear his last word rising toward us, with Doppler effects, " ...f..a..i..l." Don't throw the leaflet to him; he won't need it, where he's going. You ask the preacher, pointing to the pitiful creature now descending,: "Where's he going to end up?" The reverend shakes his head slowly, in reply. "Nowhere. He has sold his soul to the Anti-Destination League." |
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