Shook the Spot

From my perch here two stories above the street, Shook is currently viewing large bolts of lightning flash in the night sky over Scarsdale every three seconds or so. But it's hard to tell whether the lightning, which looks pretty fucking realistic, is actually out there or whether Shook is just seeing, if you will, the effects of that heftty hit taken just a moment ago. In any event, the drought has been quenched. (If He had given us B'Lovin and not done any of that other shit, Dayenu!) When Shook drew up his budget for bouncing to Beantown and presented the figures to the 'rents, one essential expenditure was missing, of course. But, oh, it's there . . . hidden better than an Arthur Anderson audit, a built-in cost of living. And certainly hidden better than those two Goldman guys busted yesterday for insider trading. (Reading SEC press releases is Shook's life nowadays.) Get a load of this bit of the complaint filed against the duo . . .

Plotkin and Pajcin also contemplated various schemes involving exotic dancers, including having them garner information from bankers while dancing, and using them to induce investment bankers to provide Plotkin and Pajcin with information.

What kind of fucking morons . . . ? Anyway, tonight's seder at the home of Yo It's . . . was pretty fucking solid. Closets were off limits both for the afikomen and the dinnertime conversation. Shook is headed over the bridge tomorrow for the weekend. Keep it real . . .