Thursday, September 09, 2010

Toro! Toro!

Come on Bull! 1015! 1015!

The Bull is tired and confused, drooling and spewing blood from multiple piercing wounds inflicted over of a decade’s long attempt to regain footing following the self induced seizure that abruptly brought him to his knees in 2000 ending an epic rampage that spanned most of the 80s and 90s.

But this proud animal will not admit defeated so easily.

In and out of consciousness, short of breath, head throbbing, eyes bloodshot and seeing double vision, he keeps stumbling to the dirt for a three count but with a full arena of speculators screaming and urging him on and the sight of a twisted and freakishly face-painted rodeo clown brandishing a cattle prod and taunting with shouts of “BUY! BUY! BUY!” and “Booyah!!”, what choice does this poor beast have?

So, he struggles to his feet and makes a mad dash for the nearest sign of red.

First his attention is directed toward the blush of “bailouts”… TORO! Then the “stimulus”… TORO! Then “stress tests”… TORO!!

He can hear the officials shouting billions! Then trillions!!

His mind is racing… He’s lost perspective.

How can he make sense of what is before him? Any one of these spectacles would have done him in twenty years ago.

The crowed knows something is wrong.

He’s not the Bull he was back in the 90s. He’s exhausted and defeated… but they have a lot riding on him!

“Booyah!” they scream “Booyah!!”… But he seems too far gone.

Will he soon stumble again and put a final end to his most recent charge? Is he ultimately on the road to recovery or ruin?