Thursday morning the spouse suggested I clean the garage. My immediate reaction inspired her to retort that my mood bordered on sour. Sour is not good at my age; I like to believe I am always of positive mood tied to an energetic light-hearted spirit.
Being of Scandinavian heritage I am too insecure to engage in an objective self analysis. I sought a second opinion. My 10 year old grandson.
He has become quite a financial expert. Albeit by accident When about five years old, he came over to program our DVD player and attempted to sucker me into a game of checkers; Canasta being my game, I cleverly pulled off a bait and switch and planted some seeds re: arbitrage. Mostly grain spreads & metals. I TiVo Squawk on the Street enabling him to watch Erin Burnett during his lunch hour He thinks Erin is hot; hot to the extent his mother has placed the CNBC channel under parental control.
As he wolfed down a tuna salad sandwich I broached my concern. “Am I sour?”
“No gramps,” his eyes locked onto the HDTV.
“I feel a little forlorn.”
“No wonder. You missed the greatest corn sale of the century last July. You own ½ line of cattle….took a little juice there….and bought December hogs. Now there is Swine Flu. Your timing is off.”
“I lean towards fundamental analysis.”
“Gramps. I know. You need to update your life skills. You have all kinds of technical tools on your trading platform. Use them! The Andrews Pitchfork. MACD. RSI. Get organized. What about me?”
“Did I put too much celery in the tuna?”
“Nah. The tuna is great. I am talking about my future! Property values have collapsed and most likely headed lower. Commercial real estate is in the tank. Credit cards are in trouble. The politicians are in bed with the banks. Quite a few crooks in the banking system. Helicopter Ben is dumping money all over the place. Nancy Pelosi wears the same facial expression just like me before I learned how to tie my shoes. Do you have any idea whatsoever the level of local, state and federal taxes I am going to have to pay!?”
“Your generation faces some big challenges.”
“Come on gramps! You like straight talk. I smell opportunities except I have to be 21 to sign up for TARP. You older guys have lost control. Weak. I signed up with Rosetta Stone to take Mandarin. Talk about bleak! Daylight is burning. I told mom I want to get a passport.”
“A passport? You plan on leaving?”
“Yes. Face it gramps. The Asians own us. You taught me to always go to the source. To the money. I’ve spotted a location in
“What about me? What about your grandmother? What about your folks? What about money?”
“I’ve been talking to Grams. She uses Gann. She convinced me to flip out of gold on this last rally; I picked up some
“The climate in
“A 900 square foot Yurt is my plan. Cheap. Cozy. Get real Gramps!
“Have you really thought this through? Smacks of rash behavior.”
“Face it Gramps. You need to buck up! Think about your future. If your trading doesn’t improve, it could next be a group home; disposable scuff slippers; no more cigars; possibly won’t allow the occasional shot of Templeton Rye. I’ll get a satellite phone. A couple BMW off road bikes, what else do we need?”
“I wonder if folks use deodorant over there? What about my 90% beef trim for my burgers? Tomatoes and Onions? Showers? Besides, I have been mulling over two alternatives: return to the car wash, or install side boards on the F-105 so I could pick up aluminum cans.”
“Gramps! When our ancestors arrived in Morris, there was no indoor plumbing. Their goal was to establish a profit center. They sought individual freedom. Freedom from restrictive rules. You’ll develop a taste for mutton. Onions, no problem. In the spring we can nail the occasional Hare. I understand Camel is a little tangy, but so what? We come from pioneer heritage!”
“I’ll have to talk it over with your grandmother. I have to wait for the weekend for that conference as she is always busy redrawing her Gann lines. I also need to check with your uncles and I would like to pass it by my long ago advisor, Jimmy the telephone guy. I’ll go down to Navy Pier on Saturday. I haven’t seen him for several years. I seldom made a move in the old days without first talking to Jimmy. Since the advent of electronic trading I understand he is involved in a new venture. I’ll let you know Monday.”
“Isn’t he the guy who was always drunk?”
“He was forced to turn to Martinis when the CBOT banned smoking on the 4th floor. He handled massive orders for me every day, never made a mistake. Better drunk than most fellows sober. A small detail. He had great connections.”
