Now What?
Last night was the first night I literally lay awake worrying about my family’s financial future. I guess when the entire country of Iceland goes under, it’s time to start losing sleep.
But oh.
George fucking Bush is going on TV tomorrow to reassure the American people that the economy is a-ok, so I guess I’ve really got nothing to worry about.
Shit.
The good news is that most of the things I really like to do—spend time with my family, ride my bike, read and talk about philosophy, to name a few—are pretty cheap, all things considered. Too bad I like best when I’m hanging out with my wife and daughter in exotic foreign locales, riding high-end custom-built bicycles, and philosophizing with copious amounts of expensive libations.
Fuck.
Funny thing is, the main reason I no longer like gambling in Vegas is that my appetite for losing money isn’t powerful enough. It got to the point where I just didn’t have the stomach for the kind of self-loathing that’s necessary for standing around a craps table seeing a couple hundred dollars go down the drain over the course of an evening. It made it so even when I won, it wasn’t fun, because I always kept thinking about all the other things I could have done with the money I lost, including traveling with my family, buying bike stuff, and stocking up on philosophical tomes and good booze.
Ironically, as the market continues to tank, and somewhat more of my nest egg is at stake, I seem paralyzed to get out of the game. Playing craps, I knew all about the futility of throwing good money after bad; as a small-time investor, I can’t bring myself to cut my losses when that’s all they are.
My paranoid conjecture is this: the stock market collapse has all been orchestrated by the current administration to save social security because now, nobody can afford to retire, anyway.
But oh.
George fucking Bush is going on TV tomorrow to reassure the American people that the economy is a-ok, so I guess I’ve really got nothing to worry about.
Shit.
The good news is that most of the things I really like to do—spend time with my family, ride my bike, read and talk about philosophy, to name a few—are pretty cheap, all things considered. Too bad I like best when I’m hanging out with my wife and daughter in exotic foreign locales, riding high-end custom-built bicycles, and philosophizing with copious amounts of expensive libations.
Fuck.
Funny thing is, the main reason I no longer like gambling in Vegas is that my appetite for losing money isn’t powerful enough. It got to the point where I just didn’t have the stomach for the kind of self-loathing that’s necessary for standing around a craps table seeing a couple hundred dollars go down the drain over the course of an evening. It made it so even when I won, it wasn’t fun, because I always kept thinking about all the other things I could have done with the money I lost, including traveling with my family, buying bike stuff, and stocking up on philosophical tomes and good booze.
Ironically, as the market continues to tank, and somewhat more of my nest egg is at stake, I seem paralyzed to get out of the game. Playing craps, I knew all about the futility of throwing good money after bad; as a small-time investor, I can’t bring myself to cut my losses when that’s all they are.
My paranoid conjecture is this: the stock market collapse has all been orchestrated by the current administration to save social security because now, nobody can afford to retire, anyway.
posted by Professor Dave at 4:49 PM
1 Comments:
I feel the same paralysis, but we're not supposed to get out of the market, right? that's what makes it worse. And think how much we hated the weasels in upper management at Enron, who got out with the big bucks while the rank and file lost everything - hell, Martha Stewart went to jail for that kind of stuff. But still, I kinda want to be a weasel, or at least for once be one of the ones who gets the money and gets out - I keep looking at the balances and thinking, "maybe if I just cashed in mom's IRA" ....
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