In the aftershock trembling of the primeval Big Bang the sound of death resounds in trumpet blast with the long arms of time falling to six and an angel calls loudly, behold it was the maximum of the world’s bastard number. Rejoicing comes from the ranks of all the pure chronicles from the entire universe and the sound thereof awakens the skeletons of old Caucasian soldiers fallen in a long-forgotten valley. The whore of Babylon raises her cup as bitter as gall for the last time and behold all across the world but especially in South Africa the doomed fall of the rich and great begins. So on a black Friday the aftershock trembling of the great economic fall resounds, played on trumpet blasts, the song of eternal rot with the long arms of time that suddenly fall from twelve to six. Gabriel calls loudly, just listen to Mammon’s lamentation there in his eternal fall with all the bankers of the world in global madness now completely insane because all of them drunk from the cup of the big whore and first it was synthetic-sweet but now it is as bitter as gall.