Balaji went off on Twitter - AE Studio
Balaji went off on Twitter

Balaji went off on Twitter

Sometimes even when the devil loses his golden fiddle, you should give him his due.

+

"The Devil Went Down To Georgia"

The devil went down to Georgia, he was lookin' for a soul to steal

He was in a bind 'cause he was way behind

And he was willin' to make a deal

When he came across this young man sawin' on a fiddle and playin' it hot

And the devil jumped up on a hickory stump

And said, "boy, let me tell you what"


"I guess you didn't know it but I'm a fiddle player too

And if you'd care to take a dare, I'll make a bet with you

Now you play a pretty good fiddle, boy

But give the devil his due

I'll bet a fiddle of gold against your soul

'Cause I think I'm better than you"


The boy said, "my name's Johnny and it might be a sin

But I'll take your bet, you're gonna regret

'Cause I'm the best there's ever been"


Johnny, rosin up your bow and play your fiddle hard

'Cause Hell's broke loose in Georgia, and the devil deals the cards

And if you win, you get this shiny fiddle made of gold

But if you lose, the devil gets your soul


The devil opened up his case and he said, "I'll start this show"

And fire flew from his fingertips as he rosined up his bow

And he pulled the bow across the strings

And it made a evil hiss

Then a band of demons joined in

And it sounded something like this


When the devil finished, Johnny said, "well, you're pretty good, ol' son

But sit down in that chair right there

And let me show you how it's done"

"Fire on the Mountain" run boys, run

The devil's in the House of the Rising Sun

Chicken in a bread pan pickin' out dough

Granny, does your dog bite? No, child, no


The devil bowed his head because he knew that he'd been beat

And he laid that golden fiddle on the ground at Johnny's feet

Johnny said, "Devil, just come on back if you ever wanna try again

I done told you once you son of a bitch, I'm the best that's ever been"


He played "Fire on the Mountain" run boys, run

The devil's in the House of the Rising Sun

The chicken in a bread pan pickin' out dough

Granny, will your dog bite? No child, no

Written By: Charlie Daniels, 1979

"Balaji Went Off On Twitter"

Balaji went off on Twitter, with a bold and outlandish deal,

It was wisely timed, it was well-defined,

And brought a nihilist’s dark appeal

So he offered bets to boomers, watching as inflation had run amok, 

And Balaji typed a controversial tweet 

That read, “all of you guys are f*&ked” (sic)


“I’ll send you each a million from behind my CPU

Then you procure a Bitcoin pure and let the bet ensue,

Now you’re gettin’ pretty sweet odds now bud,

But give the degen his due,

I feel exceedingly bold when all is told,

That I’ll get the better of you.”


A man said “my name’s Medlock, and soon you’ll be chagrined,

‘Cause I’ll take your bet on national debt,

Now let the 90 days begin!”


Medlock, watch the inflation grow and try to disregard,

The chatter and the patter from the finance avant-garde, 

And if you win, you get a million dollars from a fool,

But if you lose, we’ll all be eating gruel!


Balaji sent the million bucks, and said “there’s more to blow”  

So resolute to be destitute as he wired the escrow

And he pointed to the currencies

On which we all subsist

And he cited stats from rate hikes

That the fed could never untwist


When Balaji finished, Medlock laughed “well you had a lovely run

But when we clear the air, compare

How US dollar bills have done!”

Hyperinflation’s not much fun,

We still can watch the banks failing one-by-one

Who can guess the path where the money will flow?

Who will have the hubris to say they know?


Balaji lost the wager, he acknowledged his defeat, 

But reiterates his view with every line of every tweet

And while we mock polemics who are arrogant now and then, 

Remember as you mock and deride, of the warnings that they pen


Because hyperinflation’s not much fun,

We still can watch the banks failing one-by-one

Who can guess the path where the money will flow?

Who will have the hubris to say they know?

Written By: Weird "Ev" Coopersmith & AE Studio

"The Devil Went Down To Georgia"

The devil went down to Georgia, he was lookin' for a soul to steal

He was in a bind 'cause he was way behind

And he was willin' to make a deal

When he came across this young man sawin' on a fiddle and playin' it hot

And the devil jumped up on a hickory stump

And said, "boy, let me tell you what"


"I guess you didn't know it but I'm a fiddle player too

And if you'd care to take a dare, I'll make a bet with you

Now you play a pretty good fiddle, boy

But give the devil his due

I'll bet a fiddle of gold against your soul

'Cause I think I'm better than you"


The boy said, "my name's Johnny and it might be a sin

But I'll take your bet, you're gonna regret

'Cause I'm the best there's ever been"


Johnny, rosin up your bow and play your fiddle hard

'Cause Hell's broke loose in Georgia, and the devil deals the cards

And if you win, you get this shiny fiddle made of gold

But if you lose, the devil gets your soul


The devil opened up his case and he said, "I'll start this show"

And fire flew from his fingertips as he rosined up his bow

And he pulled the bow across the strings

And it made a evil hiss

Then a band of demons joined in

And it sounded something like this


When the devil finished, Johnny said, "well, you're pretty good, ol' son

But sit down in that chair right there

And let me show you how it's done"

"Fire on the Mountain" run boys, run

The devil's in the House of the Rising Sun

Chicken in a bread pan pickin' out dough

Granny, does your dog bite? No, child, no


The devil bowed his head because he knew that he'd been beat

And he laid that golden fiddle on the ground at Johnny's feet

Johnny said, "Devil, just come on back if you ever wanna try again

I done told you once you son of a bitch, I'm the best that's ever been"


He played "Fire on the Mountain" run boys, run

The devil's in the House of the Rising Sun

The chicken in a bread pan pickin' out dough

Granny, will your dog bite? No child, no

Written By: Charlie Daniels, 1979