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Pastimes : Don't Ask Rambi -- Ignore unavailable to you. Want to Upgrade?

To: Gauguin who wrote (14825)	12/5/1998 4:56:00 PM
From: Rambi	Respond to of 71178

THen there was this response from Alex-- To: penni westbrook (4366 ) From: +Lather.Rinse.Repeat. Thursday, Mar 13 1997 6:38PM ET Reply # of 26500 The Trader stops what he is doing when he gets the uncanny feeling that something is different. He delegates his stack of orders to one of the slender Italian-suited New Breed and raises his grizzled head above the blow-dried smog layer of the trading pit. There - along the wall - an incongruous note. A young woman, a girl really, in the prime of her nubility, dressed in black scraps and shining with sweat and bear grease. The Trader can smell bear grease distinctly despite the dense miasma of Lagerfeld and overloaded Right Guard shimmering up from the empty bodies of the New Breed. With a fatigue beyond contempt, the Trader sighs, Meat.The Trader is in ill health and finds refuge and meaning only in the abstract swirls and peals of security prices. He wastes no time on the sight which has the virile puppets of the New Breed transfixed, and thus notes the weapon. Uzi, pre-ban, wire folding stock. Israeli proofmarks. Two forty-rounders taped in a classic commando "69". The Trader heaves his overweight frame out of the pit to disappear in his weathered gray suitcoat and unfashionably plain tie into the crowd by the water jug. The intruder's wrath is soon spent, and the Trader sizes up the opportunity revealed in the chaos. Where his stunned juniors see only the enchanting dance of heaving breasts, he sees... trading ranges, delicately revealed, moving spikily between taut, quivering highs and languid spent lows. The Trader smiles. Tomorrow is another day to surf the ethereal tsunami crest of a bull market come too far. He sends one last glimpse at the fleeing form and silently calls out: I see potential inside you, young meat. Come back when your flesh grows treacherous like this carcass, and you are ready to see the Beauty in Chaos. The Trader ignores the pain in his chest and chooses his steps over the stinking sparking ruins.