the cash flounder
 If you have a thing for Jefferson, and as a result you feel compelled to buy a case and a half of sparkling wine with eighty two two dollar bills, you know what I am talking about. Whap! (who doesn't have a thing about Jefferson?)
Or maybe on St Patrick's day you will spend four hundred and thirty one dollars plus change on a case of Quatres de Chaume or maybe just Guinness  because that's the year St Patrick came to Ireland. Yes four hundred and thirty one...that would be a lot of Jeffersons, two hundred and sixteen in fact. Slap that fish on the counter and watch the cashier's face.
It's all about the sound of the bills hitting wood: Whap!
Slap that cash flounder right on the kitchen table when the 'old lady' is balking at selling the family banjo. Even a roll of deuces can seal the deal. Cash on the barrel-head. Whap!
Or has that sea been a little over-fished these days?
Say what? You've got a roll in your pants right now, I bet.
There may be a big bill or two on the outside, but there has got to be a lot of little ones on the inside to make it nice and fat. Whap!
Speaking of fat, what about last night? There were beads. There was dancing.
It was fat Tuesday.
The Watson Twins were at their best singing  about southern manners, and then Milton Berle sang all about night moves...Talk about heaven.
Obama was speechifying and shots were fired in the Garden district. Our slim selection included Way down in New Orleans, The Road to Thibideau, I Like it Like that, Such a Night and You Ain't Nothing But Fine.
Today Stevie Wonder premiered a piece of music at the Library of Congress, and tonight the President will personally award him the Gershwin prize for popular song.
Tuesday Heartache? Don't You Worry 'bout a Thing.
Superstition? Blame it on the Sun...
Things are looking up.
There's nothing but salt left on the roads these days,
and though I am no fisherman nor am I a banker, things ain't half bad...
Whap!