Got into a helluva fight with Suzy last night. She insisted that my trading would improve if my work space was neat...if there was some nice classical music in the background ; she suggested Chopin's No.9 in B Major, Mahler's Adagietto Symphony # 5 and Mozart's Symphony #5, all to be played over and over on a tape, or eight hours... and that there be several nice smelling and lit candles.
"But I hate candles" I cried, "you know how much I'm afraid of fire"
"Candles" she snapped. "Vanilla-candles would be nice."
"And" she continued, "you need peace and quiet. The bird and the chimp have to go."
"You want me to get rid of Delbert-the-Parrot and Dortmunder the chimp?" I asked incredulously. You must be jesting."
"I never jest when it comes to your trading, espcially after you had such a lousy week as the NASDAQ went ballistic."
"Mmm" I said. "Perhaps I shall discuss it with Doc Kronkite tomorrow. He's a specialist you know."
"Specialist, schmechilist" she said. "He's a fruitcake. And what's this "perhaps" you just said. You never say perhaps. You're falling under Dortmunder's spell. I simply shan't stand or it."
"Shant"? I said. "You really said shan't? Where did that word come from? Seems like YOU'RE the one slipping under Dortmunder's liguistic influence."
Suzy turned and left in a huff. But I gave her comments some thought. 'Cause it WAS a tough trading week for me.
Sure I turned on CNBC every day, always hit the mute button. But Dortmunder, with Delbert-the Parrot perched on his right shoulder, sat right behind me. Watching.
I pulled up a chart of NITE, 'cause I'd bought some March 45 calls, at a very good price. "Sell 'em" said Dortmunder. "You've got a double in less than two days." Then Delbert said, impersonating Dormunder, Sell 'em, you've got a double in less than two days, dummy." Was Delbert starting to add his own comments?"
I'd shorted some IBM a few days earlier and it dropped about five points. I pulled up the IBM chart. Should I cover or add more shorts? I wondered.
"Cover the IBM short" said Dortmunder, "You've got your trade. Dont be a dummy."
I covered the IBM at 100 1/2. A while later it ran to 110, closed at 108. Dortmunder said nothing, just smiled. Delbert though said "Always listen to Dortmunder, AWK AWK!"
And Suzy wanted me to get rid of these two guys?
No way. I'd have to talk it over with my shrink, the invaluable but never invidious Doc Kronkite. Unlike last week, I was hoping for a productive session.
As we three walked into the doc's reception room Dotmunder pitched a little woo at the georgous Thelma Tushbumper, the doc's receptionist. MortifiedI shoved Dortmunder into the doc's office. The doc was ready. He smiled, then walked over and offered to Dortmunder in one hand a lovely bunch of coconuts, a coupla dozen very over-ripe bananas in the other. Dortmunder sneered. "Freudian" he said to the doc.
"Oh, do you find somethig wrong with Freud and his brilliant insights?" he questioned the chimp with the 197 IQ.
"Yes I most certainly do. Sometimes a banana is just a banana."
The doc harummped and slid behind his massive desk with the chair that allowed him to tower over us. I was intimidated. Dortmunder clearly was not.
I attempted to clear the air. After all the doc was a specialist in treating traders with thir problems I was a trader. And Dortmunder was a master trader. There had to be a middle ground, a way for these two geniuses to help me.
"See doc, as we were driving over I wondered about the differecnes between traders and inverstors. What do you think?"
"A good investment is worth a lifetime of toil" said the doc, rubbing his Freudian shaped beard.
"Nonsense" said Dortmunder. "The gentleman before you, the gentleman who's session this is, the gentleman you claim to treat...is a TRADER, not an investor."
"Trader, schmader" said the doc, sneering.
"You denigrate traders?" Dortmunder asked, very quietly.
"Yes" snapped the doc, raising his chair another three inches.
"You denigrate? You denigrate?" said Delbert the parrot in a perfect Dortmunder impersonation.
The doc looked at Dilbert. "A nice dinner you'd make. Baked Parrot with asparagus. And a '57 Bordeaux would be excellent."
Dilbert kept quiet.
"Doc" I pleaded, "can we calmly discuss trading versus investing. I'm serious."
"Mmmm. Alright. Traders are slobs. They are disorganized, have disorganized minds. The can't choose clothes, have to take their wives, or mothers to shop for them. Left alone they dress like Norman Bates, who by the was was a patient of mine, or the flashily attired Elvis.
"That's it doc?" I asked.
"No" he said. "They have great difficulty choosing which stock to buy. When they do decide to buy, they sell, almost always too soon. Then they look for another stock to buy. Buy, sell...buy, sell. That's their mantra. Traders insist on making their own decisions, choosing their stocks. Investors, on the other hand, always take advice from their betters. Investors are the ones who make all the money. Do you see any investors on my patient list? No. I'm loaded with traders who've cornered the market on emotional problems. I make a fortune from these yutz's."
"And", continued the doc, "they constantly use sell-stops. Investors make considered judgements, buy,then hold. They listen carefully to analyst's and their upgrades, downgrades and "targets". Yhey tune in to CNBC, the source of invaluable information. They hang on to Maria's words, listen to Tom over at the NASDAQ board, can't wait for Larry Kudlow and Joe Battipaglia, professionals who believe that stocks will continually go up. Investors work spaces are neat, they light nice-smelling candles. I suggest vanilla. And of course, the best investors listen to soothing background music. Mahler, Chopin and Mozart are very good. And of utmost importance, they dress properly. Suits, ties, wing-tip shoes.
"But doc" I cried, " I'm a trader. Trading fits my personality."
"That's the problem, your personality. Remember the personality tests I gave you last year? Terrible you did. You landed in the lowest percentile."
"Gee doc" I said. "Do you think I should become an investor?"
"Of course" he bellowed. "And get rid of this fellow with the clipped British accent and his parrot-pal. They are encouraging you to trade. They must go." The doc looked at his watch. "Time's up" he said. "We'll continue next week" he said.
Dortmunder heaved a coconut at the Doc, Delbert followed with a banana. The doc ducked. "See, you are consorting with Very Bad influences."
"Thanks doc" I said gratefully, wondering if the retailers and Procter & Gamble might make fine investments. "See you next week."
Lee Kramer |
