Can you tell me what we're
waiting for, Senor?
I saw a commercial on TV, the other day, which showed a couple of people, dropping like rocks down this big hole, and the people were screaming, "We're still falling!"
I thought I had somehow been switched to the Stock Channel. But no. It was just another hard-luck story that you're gonna hear.
In the real world, nothing's going on. We've stopped going down, but we're not going up yet. We're stuck.
Everybody's waiting for the big whoosh. Until we see that big whoosh, we can't start moving up again. The big whoosh is the all-clear Klaxon we've heard tell about.
You can't make a big whoosh just by putting your lips together. It has to happen. There has to be pain and weeping of teeth.
But all the pain and weeping has been packaged and sold, and there's none left in the body economic.
Other times have seen the big whoosh. And it always cleared the air and set off the damndest stampede to the Pari-Mutuel window you ever saw.
Why can't we get our big whoosh? We, whom it would do the most good. When are we gonna get ours?