Slithering out of his hole the maestro snake utters comprehensible words rather than his usual hissing of forked-tongued words, so that his overlords will continue to throw rodents down his hole. If a snake had hands it would be easier to scratch the back of his successor, but no matter, he is obliged to do the bidding of the unConstitutional coup, and give his blessings to the next round of Bernanke's flood of counterfeit dollars.
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