Of late I've been noticing more than a few drones and satellites around my neighborhood.
As far as I know there aren't any drug dealers, ex-politicians, retired Cartel members or child molesters nearby, but then what do I know.
Most of my close friends are whenever I bring the subject up starting to become, to use the comparative case, a little less close. But I'm not too worried 'cause my dog, Taylor, he's a smart four-year old muti-pooh, also sees them and knows they're there. We go for an evening stroll most nights, rain, shine or clear-satellite-laden skies.
Still the whole thing got me to thinking recently one star-filled clear balmy spring evening a week or so ago about flash trading, satellites and drones. Maybe these rogues are after my trading secrets.
But I got a message for them. Besides me Taylor's the only one who understands them. And he knows how to keep a secret. He told me so again on one of our walks just the other night.
Come to think of it there has been of late some guys in blue suits, white shirts with dark plain ties and short-cropped hair wearing aviator shades tooling around the neighborhood. At first I didn't give it much thought until one of my neighbors, a guy who owns a satellite company and recently went through a nasty divorce, casually told me about them a few days ago.
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