Mr. President I am worried that I may have been a bit right - is the job too big for any man? Even you?
Here's the deal: when you say 'These financial industries are holding us hostage,' I believe you. It strikes me that you are not unlike, well, me perhaps when it comes to fixing something on my car. You look at this once beautiful amazing machine and you realize, 'Man, some of this might be over my head' because the problem is too difficult or the piece of machinery is too unwieldly.
And that to me is what it seems the issue has been all along, not that it might help too much now. We created way too big of cogs in this bastardly (notice how it seems like it has no father) machine we created for ourselves. So many people have been talking on TV about 'the patient' - this strange machine we built for ourselves should never be confused with the beauty that is the human body or any of God's creatures for that matter. We built an ugly Matrix-like machine that is now owning us. We let some pieces get too damn big. We let it get out of control.
So from this small corner of the globe Mr. President here is to you: the mechanic of the ages.
Here's the deal: when you say 'These financial industries are holding us hostage,' I believe you. It strikes me that you are not unlike, well, me perhaps when it comes to fixing something on my car. You look at this once beautiful amazing machine and you realize, 'Man, some of this might be over my head' because the problem is too difficult or the piece of machinery is too unwieldly.
And that to me is what it seems the issue has been all along, not that it might help too much now. We created way too big of cogs in this bastardly (notice how it seems like it has no father) machine we created for ourselves. So many people have been talking on TV about 'the patient' - this strange machine we built for ourselves should never be confused with the beauty that is the human body or any of God's creatures for that matter. We built an ugly Matrix-like machine that is now owning us. We let some pieces get too damn big. We let it get out of control.
So from this small corner of the globe Mr. President here is to you: the mechanic of the ages.
