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Strategies & Market Trends : Market Gems:Stocks w/Strong Earnings and High Tech. Rank -- Ignore unavailable to you. Want to Upgrade?

To: Jerry Olson who wrote (81002)	1/29/2000 6:41:00 AM
From: lee kramer	Read Replies (1) \| Respond to of 120523

Suzy and I had a heckuva fight last night. "I don't want to go see Doc Kronkite tomorrow" I said hotly. "Oh?" she said softly. "And why is that?" "Because he's not helping me to trade better" I snapped. "I'm not going. And that's final." "If you want to make nick-nick tonight with me you'll go" she said. Damn, she was good. On the way to my weekly session with my shrink, the compulsive but never repulsive, (and former Barry Manilow road-manager) Doc Kronkite, I thought back to when I first met Kronkite. We were both kids. Kronkite came into this world with a front-row box seat directly behind the 8-ball. By the time he was nine he looked an awful lot like Barney Fife. By the time he was sixteen he looked just like Barney Fife. On a good day he dressed like Martin Short. On a bad day he dressed like Steve Erkel. He wa blessed with a voluminous vocabulary but cursed with a tendency toward malapropisms: "I was hypnotized by the distinguished critic with the buttercup banter" would be mangled by Kronkite into "I was hyptomized by the extinguished cricket with the cutterbup panther." He was teased unmercifully by his chums. But from adversity often springs opportunity. Kronkite's father was in the wrong place when a very heavy Ringling Bros. elephant decided to sit down. Young Kronkite's emotional pain and suffering was worth five-million said the judge. So Kronkite decided he'd become a shrink, set up a practice, trade stocks as a hobby. I became his first patient. Today I walked into his office, slouched onto his lumpy couch. "So boobeleh, how was your week trading?" asked Doc Kronkite. "I don't want to talk about it" I pouted. "Mmmm. A bad week you had maybe?" "Bad? Bad?" I cried. "It was worse than bad. It was awful. Worst week I've had all year. You gotta help me doc. I'm worried. I can't sleep. And when I do I dream about the market, always the market. My longs are going down and my shorts keep riding-up. And my er, sex life? Don't ask doc." "Mmmm. Maybe it's time for some more free-association" he said. "No doc, no more free-association. It costs too much" I pleaded. "Trust me on this, I'm a specialist you know. Devoted a whole chapter to day-traders and free-association in my best seller, "The Truss: Friend or Foe" chapter 23. "Ok doc, I trust you" I said. "Good. Now I'll say a word, and you say the first thing that pops into that cuckoo head of yours. Quick response is what I want. Works with most of the traders I'm treating. AMAZON" he shouted. "Short" I replied. "Cover!" he yelled. "Lover" I said. "No, no. I mean you should cover your AMAZON short. Take the trade. Did a whole chapter on AMAZON and the Internets in my best-seller "Chronic-Droolers and Villiage Idiots" chapter 92. You didn't read it?" "Guess I missed that chapter doc. Can we please continue with the free-association. You said this could cure me." "Sure boobeleh, sure. I can see that you're a a basket of neuroses. Ok. AVISTA." "I don't wanna talk about that one doc. I waited for the pull back from 69, pulled the trigger and bought some at 42. It's killing me doc." "Sell it" he said. Take the loss, suffer the pain." I can't sell it doc, it's too far down" I moaned. "Mmmm. We'll continue. Idiot" he said. "Pity it" I snapped. "I say idiot and you say pity-it. What means pity-it? Wherefrom comes pity-it?"he asked. "Rhymes with idiot doc...idiot, pity it" I said. "You think maybe I'm running a pottery class here? (he meant poetry). Do I look like Robert Frosty? No rhymes! Ok. Coffee?" he said. "Columbian" I said, getting back into it. "No idiot, do you want some coffee?" "Doc, please don't call me an idiot. After the trading week I just had my ego's kind of fragile right now." "Ok. Crisis" he said. "Schmisis" I snapped. "Again with the pottery" he hollered,throwing a pencil at me. I pulled the Eberhard-Faber #3 out of my arm. "Trader" he said. "Schmader" I shot back. "Sorry doc, it just came out. You wanted free-association right?" "Enough with the free-association. A better idea I have. I want you to stay, listen in on my next session with a successful trader. Maybe you'll learn something." "Who is it doc?" I asked. "Can't say. Doctor-patient confabularity you know." "Sure doc, I understand" I said sadly. "Ok. A hint I'll give you. It's a woman. Her name rhymes with 'Henna'. "No!" I said. "Yes. Now go sit in that chair in the corner behind the plant. You'll listen, learn how a real trader trades. This will cure your insomnia, your bad dreams and your terrible er, sex life." "Thanks doc. You're a genius." Lee Kramer