Top CB crack is like the sixties–if you can remember doing it, you had the cheap crap cut with baby powder. Merv keeps the good stuff hidden in the weather vane in the Bank’s Court Room.
There’s actually a nuclear bunker under Threadneedle St filled with emaciated 30 somethings, biting their dirty fingernails, stumbling around and occasionally mumbling to one another about sunspot equilibria and liquidity traps.
Course, they don’t get the good stuff either. Pour la canaille, la mitraille—and everyone else can go eat cake.