DAYTRADING: The Highs and the Woes 3/24/01
I walked into Doc Kronkite’s office five minutes early with a bounce in my step, a smile on my face and a blueberry muffin in my pocket. Doc’s receptionist, the alluringly lovely Miss Tushbumper returned the smile, the smile I was certain she kept in reserve all week just for me, then she turned her porcelain face a touch so I could plant a wet smacker on her cheek. An innocent ritual, like two old friends shaking hands, but a major fantasy that could lead who knew where, in my mushy mind.
“Doctor will be with you directly,” she cooed.
“No rush.” I answered. No rush indeed.
Too soon the buzzer sounded. Miss Tushbumper pressed the intercom button and I heard “Send in the clone.” Doc was a major-league malapropist. What he meant of course was “Send in the clown.” Mmm.
Doc wiped the smile off my face faster than Superman could change from a mild-mannered reporter to the man of steel.
“Today’s the day,” said doc Kronkite, pulling hard at his Mel-Brooks like hair.
“The day? What day?” I asked, nervously.
“The day for your annual check-up.” Doc said.
“But doc, I had my last physical exam just last month,” I cried.
“No dunderhead. Not a physical checkup, a mental checkup.”
“Oh. Is it really necessary? I feel pretty good in the noggin.”
“We shall see. Now assume the position.”
I eased my now trembling body onto his lumpy couch.
“As you know, I’ve had some recent troubles in the market,” said the doc. “So I’ve decided to consult a fortune-teller.”
Somewhat taken aback I said “Doc, why not seek out a market analyst for help? Or even a CNBC expert? That would be a happy medium.”
“That would be rare, but I might just take your advice,” he said.
“Well done,” I replied.
“First though, before we begin the test,” he continued, “talk on me about your trading week.”
“Golly doc, it was terrific. The DOW broke on Tuesday and we went short. It continued on Wednesday and Thursday until about 2:15. We sniffed out a rally, covered our shorts, and went long. Terrific rally late Thursday that carried over into Friday.”
“So a new bull market we’ve got?” asked the doc excitedly.
“No doc, so far it’s just a rally within the bear market.”
“So what did you short? I’m becoming a specialist on selling short you know.”
“I know doc. Well, we caught the bio’s when they cracked, AMGN and GENZ and ENZN. And we shorted the brokers and then IFIN and CAH. Did ok doc. Then we went long ADBE, ADVP and a few others.”
“Ok, enough with this cutterbup banter,” he said. He meant buttercup of course. “On with the test.”
“Gee doc, do we really have to? I don’t like being tested. Tests give me a bad case of hives and a severe case of locked bowels. Can’t we do it next week?” I pleaded.
“Absolutely not. You didn’t get to the top of the trading game without ten years of analysis with me. This annual test is critical to your continued success. I’m a specialist in test-giving you know.”
“I know doc.”
“First question: You’re given the option of making love to Britney Spears or daytrading. What do you do?”
“Gee, doc. Couldn’t you start me off with an easy one?”
“That was the easy one. Answer please, you have five more seconds.”
“Doc, I’d choose daytrading.”
“Wrong, very wrong. I knew your were batty in the belfry, but not this cuckoo.” he said, shaking his head while making a violent slash with his pen.
“Next question: You’re on the way to the movies. They have ten screens. Do you choose “Wall Street”, “Trading Places” or” My Dinner With Andre?”
“That’s an easy one doc. I’d get a jumbo box of popcorn and see “Wall Street.”
“ Wrong again.” Another slash of the pen.
“Next question: You’re one of the members of the TV show Survivor, the test of man against nature filmed in the Australian outback. A contest is about to begin, the winner can choose an evening alone with the woman of your choice, a bottle of Lafitte Rothschild ’79, a CD player with Santana, Aerosmith, Dylan and Harry Connick Jr. CD’s or a computer with a direct link to the exchanges for the duration of your stay.”
“The computer doc. Absolutely. The computer.”
“You are now ‘ought for three.” Another violent slash.
“Doc, can we do this next week? I guess I need to study. Anything I can do to earn extra credit? I asked hopefully.
“No. You’ve flunked. After ten years of deep analysis you have failed. Actually, it is I who have failed you. I thought you were ready to fly from my nest. This test confirms that several more years of analysis are in order. Perhaps we shall begin again with more kryptonizing.” He meant hypnotizing.
“I devoted an entire chapter on kryptonizing in my book, “The Truss: Friend or Foe” a best seller at only $59.95. Read on it, read.”
“I will doc, I’ll mesmorize it. Commit it to memory even. And doc?”
“Yes?”
“Thanks. I see now that I’m in dire need of your continued help.”
“That’s quite alright. Did I tell you I’m a specialist? See miss Tusbumper on the way out. Make appointments, lots of appointments.”
“I will doc. I want to be a good trader. Guess I just got lucky this week huh?”
“Luck is the residue of hard and lengthy psychiatric analysis with a specialist. Did I mention I’m a specialist?”
“I think so. Ok doc, see you next week.”
Lee Kramer |
