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Not as ambitious as Dom's or Allison's, but my unemployment benefits are about to run out: Financial Analysis It seems I have the kind of tic That busied Sigmund Freud, For once again I've bought a house, Then joined the unemployed. He'd claim these walls that shelter me Must mean my Mother's womb From which my Father's banned by Death, That I'm her guilty groom. But I'm not blind -- no matter how Engrossingly complex, Self-knowledge is no substitute For earning steady checks.