You survived Christmas but will you survive the New Year? Take a deep breath. It’s not so bad. The currency is sinking very slowly. The market is majestically floating high like a gigantic soap bubble under a family of porcupines. What is needed, at this late hour, is a poem of good cheer. So please forgive this brief poetic interlude:
The finances were purring, though built upon sand;
The investors were miffed, who had silver and gold.
The Fed bought the bonds that the government sold.
Cattle were dying in the cold of Dakota;
The calorie Nazis were putting down soda!
Taxpayers were haggard with worry and care,
With prospects of pulling out tufts full of hair;
Blue Cross was canceling, as patients took fright;
Premiums doubling, the costs out of sight.
Employment was up, so they said in the news,
Some states got by, raising taxes on booze.
Low inflation is claimed, though prices are high;
Food stamps are booming, like the money supply.
All is the well for the moment, though nobody knows
How long it will be till the banks decompose.
It is best to be hopeful, and to smile so nice:
Invest in a rifle and stock up on rice.
You can’t stuff a mattress, ‘cause the dollar may crash;
You can’t eat your gold when everything’s ash.
Investment’s the lifeblood in America’s veins,
But that was before John Maynard Keynes.
Let’s drink us a toast to the New Year ahead,
And numb ourselves silly so we won’t feel dread.
J.R. Nyquist, FINANCIAL SENSE