The Beginnings of the Bottom?

I despise Alan Greenspan more than all others (which is saying a lot, as I think most Earthlings are pretty damned stupid!), and it is he that I ungraciously characterize as the most obviously mentally ill, low-IQ, delusional lowlife scumbag on the face of the planet because he is directly responsible for every economic and financial problem being suffered by anyone on the planet, either recently, now, or in the decades to come, and all because he was Chairman of the Federal Reserve from 1987 to 2006 and he behaved abominably by creating excess money and credit the Entire Freaking Time (EFT) and which produced the now-catastrophically-bursting bubbles in stocks, bonds, houses, derivatives and size of government.

He pays no attention to me or my crudely-made sign that says “Greenspan Bites The Big One (GBTBO)!” and he says that he sees the “beginnings of the bottom” to which I mumble, “Whatever in the hell that is supposed to mean! Hahaha!”

I mean, this is the guy who said he couldn’t recognize a bubble except after the fact, who said there was no housing bubble, there was no bubble in anything, derivatives are good things that diversify risk, and whose disastrous tenure at the Federal Reserve is what created the bubbles in everything!

And now he is suddenly so smart that he can see the “beginnings of the bottom”! Hahahaha!

For some reason, I think of the proverbial guy who has fallen all the way from the top of a skyscraper, and on the way down to the ground he makes various jokes about his misfortune, such as “So far, so good! Hahaha!” and the ever-popular, “It’s not the fall that kills you, but the sudden stop! Hahaha!” and who is now nearing the end of time for jokes and the beginning of “splat!” time.

Yet as he comes closer and closer to the ground, he now – a comedic trooper to the last! –says, “I think I see the beginnings of a bottom!” Hahahaha!

Repelled by the horror about to unfold as “the beginnings of the bottom” become “the bottom,” I turn away and think happier thoughts, such as the golden years of my youth, particularly those idyll years where you always knew that you couldn’t be charged as an adult as a backup position.

In particular, I now see, in hindsight, this selfsame “beginnings of the bottom” in my old awkwardly love-starved stalking of the lovely Donna! What a time!

I have often wondered where our love went awry, and now I see it was that Saturday morning when I was bringing her my usual gifts of a bouquet of flowers, a box of candy and some pornographic literature pointing out some interesting things I think it would be fun to try with her if she ever, you know, wanted to go out with me on a date or something.

This particular day, however, as I am walking up to her door, she pops out and takes a shot at me!

Zing! The bullet went right by my ear!

Well, things were never the same between us after that, and now I consider it to be the “beginnings of a bottom” in my relationship with Donna, as the old Mogambo Ardor Meter (MAM) immediately plunged to zero! And stayed there, I’ll tell you! Hahaha!

The lesson is NOT that I learned to henceforth approach doors with more caution, evasive action, and firepower, but that I would have been better off buying gold, silver and oil than wasting my Precious Mogambo Time (PMT) calling some stupid girl on the phone and sending her expensive presents, only to have her call me nasty names and hang up on me repeatedly and then her dad takes the phone away from her and threatens me, too.

This, then, is what I have learned: I should have asked him, “Do you have gold, silver and oil as a defense against your own stupid government acting like profligate, deficit-spending morons and the Federal Reserve creating the money and credit to make it happen?” and if he said, “No!” then I could laugh at him, “Hahahahaha” and tell him that he’s a moron!

And I could call him up now and say, “Hahahaha! You’re a moron for not buying gold, silver and oil! And now I can prove it!”

Ahhh! Not only is investing easy, but sometimes it is very satisfying, too!

The Daily Reckoning