| And Idle Memoire -- Christmas in Ouzilly THE DAILY RECKONING OUZILLY, FRANCE MONDAY, 27 December 1999
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In Today's Daily Reckoning:
*** World markets rise on Christmas Eve *** Finding Pvt. MacDonald *** "What Wrong with Warren?" * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *** Stock markets in London, Paris, Hong Kong and
Singapore, and who knows where else, hit net highs on
Christmas eve. Santa worked overtime. *** Not much financial news from Wall Street, however,
since the markets were closed. *** Help me out on this: a French guy at our little
church, named Gilbert Mining, asked me to see if I could
locate an American WWII soldier he knew in Morocco in
1943. The two of them struck up a friendship -- speaking
German to one another -- but have not been in touch
since the end of the war. The American's name is Jack
MacDonald. He showed me a picture of him, from 1942, and
an address in Los Angeles I couldn't make out. Anybody
know him? *** Here we are 56 years later. Nobody really cares
about WWII -- it was all lies and brute force. But the
memories of friendship remain. It would mean a lot to
Gilbert to hear from his old friend. *** Barron's this week features the world's greatest
investor on the cover. Warren Buffett's photo is
headlined: "What's Wrong Warren?" Seems Buffett has lost
23% of his fortune this year. *** The poor guy failed to get in on the boom in tech
and nets. He only invests in the things he understands -
- like insurance, newspapers and coke. Too bad he didn't
understand businesses such as Amazon or VA Linux. But
then, who does? *** It was a heckuva week for stocks last week… almost
every index was up. There were even slightly more stocks
going up than down -- 1777 advances compared to 1671
declines. The Nasdaq rose 5.6% for the week -- which is
why people still like stocks. You get as much gain in
one week from the Nasdaq as you do from a bond in an
entire year. (Do these indexes ever go the other way?} *** By the close of the week, the S&P was priced at 33.1
times earnings -- and yielding 1.15%. *** Not everyone got richer though in the week before
Christmas, for every stock that hit a new high, 3.5 hit
new lows. And among common stocks, more fell back than
moved higher. ** Floyd Norris of the New York Times figures that
2/3rds of all stocks are down 20% from their peaks. *** The Oxford Club's Steve Sjuggerud is reporting some
spectacular results from recent recommendations.
Datacraft-Asia and YahooChina, shot up 25% and 18%
respectively, in a single trading session last week…
Datacraft has now more than doubled since he recommended
it on October 1st. And YahooChina is up nearly 50% since
we recommended it Dec 15 issue. www.oxfordclub.com *** I was recently exploring the link between political
folly and financial folly. Political thinking, based on
mob psychology, is similar to the psychology of manic
markets. Here's George Soro's contribution to this
discussion: "Economic history is a never-ending series
of episodes based on falsehoods and lies, not truths. It
represents the path to big money. The object is to
recognize the trend whose premise is false, ride that
trend, and step off before it is discredited." *** The present mania in internet and tech stocks is an
example of an episode whom premise is false. I have not
ridden it, alas. *** A New Year's prediction from Rick Ackerman: "Yahoo,
whose shares currently sell for nearly 1,500 times
earnings, buys Genentech with the goal of developing a
drug to help investors live long enough to see the day
when it and other dot.com companies become solidly
profitable." *** A couple of interesting historical footnotes -- it
was on this day 99 years ago that Carrie Nation broke up
a bar in a hotel in Wichita, KS… eventually inciting
the mobocracy to ban alcohol by constitutional
amendment. And Charles Darwin began his voyage on the
HMS Beagle -- which would result in the Theory of
Evolution. (By the way, our London affiliate publishes
the complete works of Darwin in a set of books that
takes up at least 3 feet of shelf space… and costs as
much as a Volkswagen. Let me know if you're interested.) *** Insurance executives slept poorly Christmas night. A
fierce storm ripped through Europe leaving 50 people
dead. I was not among them -- fortunately -- though a
big limb crashed down moments after I stood beneath it.
And one of the century-old pine trees in the yard came
down -- uprooted by the wind. * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
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Christmas at Ouzilly
We spent a stormy, but otherwise tranquil, Christmas at
Ouzilly. Just the family, plus Beirne, my young
assistant in Paris. Churches all over Christendom were decked out and well
attended on Christmas Eve. St. Maurice, our little
church in little Lathus, France, was no exception. It
celebrated the coming of Christ pretty much as it has
done for the last 1,000 years. Lit by candles, crowded
by parishioners, most of whom only attend church a few
times in their lives, the annual Christmas Eve service
is one of the longest-running shows in the world. And
still popular. We are no strangers to Christmas Pageants. Every year,
they turn out to be a mixture of solemnity and hilarity.
The story has not changed in 2,000 years. The same
script. The same lines. The same plot. The same dramatic
tension. And yet, each year, there is an element of spontaneity
too. The promise is so big -- to have life, more
abundantly… and for all eternity -- it is sure to
bring in the crowds. And the costumes, lighting, and
music have been worked on for hundreds of years, to the
point where the pretensions and artistic fads have been
worn smooth -- like the stones you find on a beach. It
is both extremely na?ve and extremely sophisticated at
the same time -- light as myrrh and heavy as gold. But the real crowd pleaser is the participation of the
children. Parents never tire of seeing their children
perform. They get a vicarious thrill from it. And the
crowd gets the thrill from the unexpected too -- as you
can never be sure what the children will do. Put the little kids in angel outfits and let them walk
up the aisle. The littler the better. Sing Silent Night.
Light the candles. It is a hard act to follow. One year, when Jules was very little, he wore his angel
outfit and sat on the steps in front of the altar. The
minister (this was at the Episcopal church in Maryland)
was delivering a sermon, and everyone was very quiet as
he hit upon a particularly hallowed point. But Jules'
halo had fallen off. And reaching for it, he tumbled
head first and rolled in the aisle. Jules redeemed himself in pageant history about 7 years
later. It turned out that he had perfect pitch and a
boys' choir kind of voice. So, the choir mistress had
him sing a solo of "Oh Holy Night." Anyhow, when Jules opened up on "Oh Holy Night," he gave
it everything he had. His voice was so strong, so
perfect, and so pure -- it brought a tear to my eye.
And I wasn't the only one. Jules has grown up a bit since then. Thom, who manages
the Daily Reckoning project, came to visit in the spring
and taught him how to play the guitar. But Thom leans
towards blues and rock & roll, rather than hymms -- so
Jules has moved on from "Oh Holy Night." In fact, he
asked for an electric guitar for Christmas. (Which he
didn't get -- I'm not crazy, after all.)
All the boys had little parts to play in Friday's
pageant. Edward, 6, was one of the angels -- approaching
the straw-stuffed manger with a lit candle. (I looked
around for a fire extinguisher.) Jules, who celebrated his 12th birthday on Christmas
day, took up the collection, looking angelic. And Henry
was the star of the show. He had a costume which I
couldn't identify -- one of the 3 kings, perhaps -- and
read a letter from St. Paul whose message passed me by
like one of the Christmas decorations blowing down the
street. Henry read without hesitation, accent or mistake, making
his parents, and grandmother, feel very proud. The service continued with a sermon from Pere Blot.
Again, I had trouble following it. But I fear the good
priest has fallen into Bishop Tutu's pit of politics.
Jesus made it very clear what his message was -- love
thy neighbor. This private charge Pere Blot turned into
a vague, social responsibility. He urged us to act in
"solidarity" with those who struggled against oppression
and want. He was referring, I suppose, to the truck
drivers who were striking for the right to retire at 55
with full pay. Or perhaps with the unemployed who
demonstrated for a Christmas bonus. I doubt he had in
mind the small businessmen, or taxpayers, who
demonstrated recently against the high tax burden and
government interference in business. Christ's personal message -- which you carry around in
your heart -- thus became a political message, which you
can wear on your sleeve, like the stripes of a corporal
in the SS. But no matter, it was Christmas Eve, and damned if I was
going to let it be ruined by a dim, though nice and
well-meaning, cleric. Back at home, a roaring fire, and a CD of Tammy Wynette
singing Christmas songs, contributed to a festive and
cozy atmosphere on Christmas Eve. Jules and I tuned up
our guitars and did a few Christmas tunes. We were
pleased to see that Jules' voice has not yet changed --
he still hit the high notes of "O Holy Night," while the
rest of us screeched. "I'm tone deaf," Beirne announced. "They made me lip
sync in my high school choir." In school, Beirne was a
member of the school chorus. He had figured out that the
chorus members got into line first at the cafeteria.
When the music teacher heard Beirne sing, he let him
stay in the group, but asked him not to sing. It was nice having Beirne over the holidays. He's a
family friend as well as an employee. His mother called
to see how he was doing. She feigned to worry that
Beirne might slip into one of the traps of sin,
lassitude, and debauchery that abound in Paris. I
reassured her that Beirne was safe with us out in the
country. "I've looked all over Paris for those traps," said
Beirne, "I just can't find them." After the children went to bed, Santa and Ms. Claus went
to work. Stockings were stuffed. Presents were tagged
and placed under the tree. Finally, Mr. And Mrs. Claus
were able to retire too… and then, all through the
house, not a creature was heard… not even a mouse. Actually, you wouldn't have been able to hear a
rhinoceros either… not over the gale force winds!
There arose such a clatter that I had to get up and see
what was the matter. It was shutters blowing and
clacking. But after a half-hour of roaming effort, they were
secured. And all was well. And soon, it was Christmas.
Bill Bonner
P.S. I hope you had a merry Christmas too. Or, a happy
holiday, depending upon your persuasion. I understand
that some people actually hate Christmas. There are
websites for these people, I am told. I hope these
people get what they deserve too, as surely they will. Tomorrow, I will write about less important matters --
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