Read this article about Louis Rukeyser. It's hilarious! It was written sometime in 1997 or 98, I think -- certainly well before the bear-market started in March 2000.
investorsolutions.com
Excerpt :
Primitive Rituals
Every Friday, investors across this great land huddle together in the great electronic village
to celebrate a sacred primitive ritual. Anthropologists and economists are divided as to the
motivation for this tribal rite. Many simply credit ignorance and superstition. Some attribute the
gathering to man's eternal search for a deeper meaning - to know the unknowable or divine
the intent of the gods. Whatever the reason, the ritual has assumed importance to the
participants and viewers far beyond any actual value.
The ceremony, almost as old as television itself, proceeds in strictly defined order. The high
priest, resplendent in imported hand-tailored Italian robes, gives a short invocation. The
invocation always ends with the introduction of a visiting priest who has journeyed from the
village of lower Manhattan to pay his respects to the great one. The two then engage in a
highly ritualized duet ending with the high priest clutching and choking the visitor while
chanting "names, please" and "what do you like?" When the visitor has disgorged enough
names he is temporarily released.
The high priest then turns his attention to a panel of elders and lesser priests. At least one
lesser priest must always dress as a bull while another poses as a bear. Each makes
appropriate noises for his role and offers his reading of the entrails. (Under an agreement with
the Society for the Prevention of Cruelty to Animals, no animals are actually sacrificed on
camera.) While the lesser priests never agree on the portents, they are not allowed to
actually physically attack each other, this being considered bad form.
The remaining priests all fill familiar roles. One must mutter and fret about market volatility
while another advises the faithful to buy where their wives shop. Yet another endlessly
intones, "Don't fight the Fed, don't fight the tape." The high priest gives each his blessing
equally, bestowing a knowing smirk upon every remark, no matter how inane.
The high priest maintains a private collection of pet elves, which on a weekly basis attempt to
divine the will of the gods and share their rapturous insight through a "sentiment poll." The
gods must be crazy, or at least fickle, because the result has become a contrarian's delight.
So poorly have the elves interpreted the omens that several years ago the high priest had
them all slaughtered in a fit of pique. He then replaced them with new and improved elves.
Unfortunately, the new elves have become an even sorrier lot and must be severely
concerned with their own fate.
Still smirking - after all, nobody is catching on, everybody is eating it up, and he is actually still
getting paid for this nonsense - the high priest offers a final benediction. After the benediction,
a very minor priestess magically appears, silent as Vanna White, and leads the group into a
spotlight where they all pretend to chat as the light flickers and fades from the television. A
soothing voice offers to send transcripts of the sermon to the faithful.
...
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