SuperGurl

I hope I have deceived none of you. I am not an economist, nor am I of any particular significance within my field. I am one severely exposed individual, which I think gives me a unique grasp of current events.

Everybody seems traumatized these days, and who can blame them? I feel as if I’ve been at war for six months. But you can’t deny the pattern, people. I know, I know. This time it’s different. Yes? Of course, it is.

In my tiny corner of the world, I hear the same old tired arguments rising up to a crest. Gold. The most precious metal. What a crock! I listen to a lot of conservative radio and some of the personalities go as far as voice-over endorsement ads, recommending people diversify into gold. Suprises me, to hear the most staunch conservatives advocating such an obcenely volatile asset class, with no remorse for peddling it to the masses. It baffles. Commodities are volatile assets, folks, always have been. How then did we come to accept this premise? Are we being duped again by the fear mongering media?

While there’s obviously no limit to the number of dollars our government is willing to print, I can clearly imagine the value decending rapidly towards obsolete. I’ll even one-up that part of the theory by stating it’s a rare few that can fairly value a dollar today, as is. Enter stellar debt and black hole deficits, and most won’t have a prayer. Still, even if you ride that bus all the way to Armageddon, you believe that once the world goes to shit we will suddenly become a nation of barterers trading in precious metals? Krugerrands & bars of gold? Really? I doubt it.

The most precious metal is lead, bar (of gold) none. With lead you can protect your family. Lead has real muscle when it comes to control and power. Life stopping lead, why you can even eat it should the situation become dire enough. Put yourself between your family’s starvation and your last loaf of bread. What would you rather have, a bar of gold or a round of bullets? I think I’d choose the latter. Definitely, more bang for the buck.

But again, I’m no economist. What do I know? Nothing special. I’m just another twitchy eye on the world upside down. I’m as moderate as I can be with my lifestyle and I’m still a gluttonous, capitalist pig. And still, I think I’m only mildly infected.

Take heart: Optimism equals courage. Don’t be afraid to believe that things may work out (despite the communists in power.) Without that belief, things won’t. Go ahead and put the I in resilient. Don’t make the same mistakes. If you can’t find anything great to believe about this country, if you can’t see a recovery on the horizon, then by all means, please, sell everything you have and buy lead.

I guess it was probably a month ago now, this poor neglected blog. I don’t know what to say.

The news was on, blaring in the living room, enough to be heard in the far reaches of the house. The announcer said something like, “This bailout is costing each and every American $20,000.”

The Scientist, wandering through the kitchen looks up at me in utter despair and asks, “Twenty thousand dollars? Do I have to pay that?”

Well? What do you think I said? I told him there was that and a whole lot more. The boy is seven, people! Can we carve him out just a little more time before we inflict him with colon cancer-causing stress? It is utterly ridiculous.

While we are on the subject, shame on you, Viagra nation! You are disgusting. Your parents would be appalled at your lack of sensibility. I am up to my neck in excuses, trying to rationalize horny grandma/grandpa behavior to my kids. They stop at every ad and question, what does it do? Have some freaking conscience, folks. Please. See the danger, stop the madness. In a world where the cephalopods have us greatly outnumbered already, we who can still rationalize must do so and in all seriousness, Godspeed.

Listen to me, please. My granddad was a great man and rancher (not a nasty crooning horndog.) He understood well that you reap what you sow. We all do. I want to sow great things for the future. I want to reacquaint you with a forgotten concept called resolution.

And not the sort of temporary feel good resolutions we make and break year after year, but a thorough renewing of our spirits with acceptance of the wear. We can’t go back, but we can resolve to hold some virtues more dear in the great unknown ahead. Those of integrity, freedom and entreprenurial spirit could easily unhinge our current predicament and restore confidence in what we all know to be the absolute undeniable truth: there’s no place like home.

Nothing is impossible! I wish you great things in the year to come. If you’re going to catch the winning shot, you had better get your hands up. And hastily please, bring your genius. I want to get out of this hole this year and not pass on a culture of entitlement to another generation of young innocent children. Viagra nation, stop your impotent gyrating and please, concentrate on productivity.

Finally, what beats anticipation for good old-fashioned optimistic exhiliration? My hopes for you are that the wait will be as exciting as reaching your destination. Good luck on your individual quest, mighty blown-eyeds.

San Francisco. I landed the day after the election. Not the best place for a conservative to spend the apocalypse, but you know, no one embraces the suck like I can. So I went and enjoyed every minute of it.

Never had been there before. And it was a whirlwind. I went there for work. It was in no way a junket. It was among the most stressful experiences of my career, actually. A lot of things were made clear for me. Things that, looking back, I’d rather have languished in denial a little longer. Hindsight’s 20/20, and all that.

And the Golden Gate made for interesting background noise for all of it. I don’t remember knowing anything about it before, but I got an interesting history lesson while waiting for the sun to peek into the pacific time zone.

He told me that the bridge was designed prior to the great crash of 1929, and how the economy entering the Great Depression had thrown even more cold water on the idea of building “the bridge that could not be built.”

The guy that was telling me was there from New York. His foreign dialect rang familiar in my ears and intensified my interest in the tale. And he’s explaining the hard times, the protests, all led by the Ferries, because before the bridge of course, the only way across the Golden Gate was by riding a ferry… F-E-R-R-Y.”

And he actually spelled it. I said, “I know, I’m from Texas, but did you really just spell “ferry” at me?” Which of course made me think about riding a fairy across the bay. How could I not? I freaking detest when I find myself drowning in gutter thoughts like that. Honestly, I blame you people.

But it cost me the end of the Ferry showdown story. And a real life drama that enveloped the same time period as the Great Depression. I love the Great Depression. My narrator said their were books on the subject, and I intended to buy one, but alas, this is all I learned. Maybe I’ll hit a book store this weekend.

Or, you could make up some history for me in the comments? C’mon. Finish the story for me, would ya? Let’s play some mad libs history, can we? It’s the weekend, make up something meaningful. It’s good exercise for a dull world. Thanks for your historical perversions in advance. I dig your madness.

Don’t shit your celly, my monkey love, but I’m back. Do I still sicken you? I don’t know. Do I misser you? Baby, like mad.

What a hiatus it’s been! There has been no improvement in the equilibrium guzzle suckage at work. Highs and lows. Busts and bottoms. Volatility and confusion. Systemic risk. Scary times? Hairy times. Let me tell you about my cousin Larry times.

Do you think it’s possible that we’ve merely suffered an extreme negative demand shock? There was this surreal moment in time, back when Paulson and his posse were asking for the money at gunpoint, that everything just got weird. That week, I saw a slovenly family of troll people loading their pick-up with gallons of water and industrial bags of rice at the grocery store. Locally, bullets and batteries were stressed often among friends. And people seemed scarce in general, not wanting to gloat about their capitalistic tendencies anymore, ghost towns erupted like rabid cancers from within. Across the fruited plains and purple plunging mountain charts, people cowered together and triaged their assets, though too many bled out.

And I know it’s most popular to pretend this has never happened before, but it has. Kind of often, in fact. It reminds me of the year two thousand bug chaos, especially the anticipatory period which spawned a proliferation of cult variety fanatics, long on conspiracy but short on logic. I’m seeing a selfsame proliferation now. Not that it means it’s over, no way. I don’t know when that blessed day might come. Only that the pendulum has swung, negative gee!

But my blog works! Which means I will be available to talk you in off the ledge or give you a push, whatever it is you truly need. Welcome back to prozac, polarrhoids, and thanks once again for the wild ride.

This brief, howsoever, elementary education is brought to you by the letter AAA, and the numba one. Staging a comeback, yo. Prosperity, and how…

But first, from the wrong side of the tracks, a little tough love explanation of a dirty beast known as margin. A margin is a loan on your investment equity. Take this simple illustration as an example…

If you had an account that was worth 100 thousand dollars in value, you could probably receive 50 thousand in a quick, no-questions-asked, margin loan on your investment at any time. So let’s say, just for jolly’s sake, that the market dessimates that 100k value, and after day one, it is down to 80k?

Well, in the case given, you would theoretically get a margin call (a bill) for 10 thousand dollars, and the money would be due in three days, no leniency for jack. Meaning, if there were no other money, you would have to sell 10 thousand more dollars of your now 80k total, reducing your allowed margin loan to 35k (half of 70k). So? Yes, you have to go sell 5k more. Uh huh. And if the market continues down?

Yeah? What do you think happens?

Well, it’s similar to what is happening now. Death spiral. Used to be, it was just margin trading. Today, it’s the speculators and the hedge funds. Same shit, different day, as far as I’m concerned. You see, there is no market to sell the trash, so most are having to sell very high quality companies just to keep afloat (obviously, a state of denial, considering). But, chicken little, it does not mean the end is near.

Hear this, friendlies. The enemy is a broke but dumb mo foe. Please, do not sound the horn of dumbassery from my camp. Prosperity now. Get up. Go to work. Continue on your individual quest. Quit the whiney shit. We are Americans. We are the roots of capitalism. We will not only overcome, we will surpass your loftiest expectations and wipe the floor with your dumbfounded drool. Freedom is the fuel, not other people’s money. It doesn’t take debt to be a dynamo, it takes courage.

Please, do not forget and don’t foolishly take for granted the sacrifice it took to earn your way. Ever.

Prosperity Now!