Center of the picture. This evening I was flailing wildly trying to beat down what I now realize was a Fly Broker. The metaphor, or anthropomorphism, is warranted: Fly Brokers are pesky bastards, causing us to swing wildly and, often, send halogen lamps, televisions, and other shit crashing to the floor. But if we are patient, and only think before we swing, our more thoughtful strikes will ring true, and we can crush the Fly Broker and send these whorish speculators to a watery, toilet grave. This cool reflection will prevent us, and the markets, from descending into hysterical convulsions.
