ART AND THE BOUNCY BANKER: Letter to the Bank #56

The Bruxist Collective's take on Art and (as Alfred Jarry might put it) P'finance.

A numerically dyslexic artist (and reluctant consumer) shares his dearth of financial wisdom and resulting frustrations with his Bank Manager. Read personal letters from the elusive Art to his even more elusive Bank Manager. See a comic rendition of a Day In The Life Of The Bouncy Banker. Art struggles to make sense of the senseless as the Authorities of Finance wobble but never quite fall down. Full of hot air they float above it all! When they bounce it is with impunity! Why are there no Remorseful Bankers? Can Art and Finance ever coexist? Do you have a Blue Chip on your shoulder?

When bankers get together they talk about Art. When artists get together they talk about money. Oscar Wilde

Wednesday, September 8, 2010

Letter to the Bank #56

Hello Bullrider,

Finally another letter!

Funniest thing is writing these letters is such hard work but I keep doing it anyway. Finding a moment to sit down, getting comfortable (so hard to do when your ceiling is leaking), finding a pen that works, finding a stamp for goodness sakes!

Fortunately I am a patient man and so I go to this effort for you, my bank manager.

Funnier still is the fact that you are, frankly, the last person I wish to write a letter to but here I am, pen in hand, doing just that.

Feel free to explain!

Foolish Harry here certainly has no idea what is going on.

Frankly though I keep writing in hopes an explanation will be forthcoming.

Felicitous greetings aside why do the rich feel so entitled?

Falling stocks, crumbling edifices, collapsing DOW and they keep partying?

Fold your newspaper under your arm and join me for a drink.

Face to Face perhaps we can figure this thing out together.

Ferocious cold aside I think you should touch base with your real clientelle—those like me with nothing to offer but the shirts off our backs because we’ve given everything else.

Sincerish regards,

Kristian Witherkay

PS-To keep things lively I might start a series of letters whereby every sentence begins with the same letter—a madcap creative exercise guaranteed to infuriate my BM (you!) and keep me on my toes and out of oh I dunno—Debtors’ Prison. Oops! I forgot! I'm already in Debtors' Prison! My own home! I exagerate only a little. Fond of it though I am it is a ball and chain around the neck.