You–yeah you! What’s your interest rate in hopping on my boat, baby? The market goes up, the market goes down. Just like this sick 32-footer in the Ibizan waves. Come on–don’t be shy.
There’s plenty of Lime-A-Rita, and my buddy Jeff got the complete works of AC/DC pre-downloaded into the speaker system.
Awwweee–don’t be like that. Of course I’m also worried about inflation. The inflation of inflatable hot dog-shaped floaties! Ha! Bet you thought I was just President-Of-The Federal-Reserve Wet-Blanket Jerome. You’ve never met ‘J-Wavy.’ He lives on 4 Lokos, good vibes, and prints money for the hell of it. Back when I was Board Chair of the Nature Conservancy, they used to worship me. What? Whaddya mean why?
Do you see this boat? You gotta see what I mean now. Nothing but good times and Bud-Light limes on the boat, baby.
Wait, wait, wait!–hear me out. You heard of this thing I do at work sometimes called quantitative easing theory? When all that shit with the housing bubble went down back in ‘08, we dropped 1.5 trilly, not billy, 1.5 trilly on mortgage-backed securities. That’s me, J-Wavy, your trillion- dollar guy. And we did all that in six weeks. It took longer for the boat guys to install the water bed into the tiger suite, HA! Awe no, don’t do that. Don’t, don’t g–.
Alright fine. That’s what they think of me. Jerome, Jerome, Jerome; the suit controlling the entirety of the US dollar. Never just a sick guy down for some fun times on the waves. Ahh wait—here’s another. Hey baby, how about reserving a spot on this federal flotation device?