Who Do You Believe?

There are three voices that always speak to us—like a little atomic prompt, with positive, negative, and neutral properties to almost every situation we confront. Like little angels on our shoulders, one whispering, “yes,” the other whimpering, “no,” and in the middle, the anchor of neutrality vacillating, “perhaps.”

Last week former Fed Chief Alan Greenspan came out of hibernation, saw his shadow, and predicted the US economy had a 30% chance of hitting the Big R (recession) within 6-months, or at least before the end of the year.

An economist whose opinion I respect, Dr. Irwin Kellner, respectfully disagreed with the retired Fed Head, and said there is still too much liquidity, too little volatility (huh?) and still plenty of altitude in the markets. Well, what he said was that you or I or our businesses can still easily borrow to meet our needs (liquidity).

Despite the on going war in Iraq, the turmoil in Iran, and bizarre side shows in Korea and Venezuela, nothing has shaken the comparative confidence of Wall Street’s movers and shakers. There are concerns, yes, as fuel prices begin to creep up again, and the housing market softens; we’ve weathered those problems before. Nothing shocking.

Sure, last week’s market drop of 400+ points was a news maker. So was the drop following 9/11, the movement in October 1987, and The Crash of 1929. But Kellner’s comfort food comes from the observation that the Dow is still higher today than it was this time last year…and the spikes on the grid are just that—valleys between the peaks.

Not saying there’s not going to be a recession—economies and markets are cyclical, and such an event will occur. But it will take more than last week’s confluence of events to start things skidding out of control.

That being said—what areas did you see exposed last week when the music stopped? That was your warning flag—and an opportunity to shore up the weak spots in your portfolio.

Sore Throats and Healthcare

I have a sore throat this morning.

Too bad that doesn't qualify me for disability pay, because with the cold wind whipping around, and all the pollen in the air, today would be a mighty fine day to just stay snuggled beneath the feather comforter and inhale Vicks Vap-o-Rub fumes.

Talk Radio hosts should qualify for sore throat disability, though.
That's what we do--talk for a living. Maybe we'll get that with President Clinton's new universal healthcare plan...maybe.

I saw this piece on the Newsbusters.org site over the weekend.
And since I feel crummy today, will pass it along for your enjoyment:

Hillary Clinton visited a primary school in New York to talk about the world. After her talk she offered a question and answer period.

One little boy put up his hand.
The Senator asked his name.

"Kenneth."
"And what is your question, Kenneth?"

"I have three questions: First - whatever happened to the medical health care plan you were paid to develop during your husband's eight years in the office as President?
Second - why would you run for President after your husband shamed the office?
Third - whatever happened to all those things you took when you left the White House?"

Just then the bell rings for recess.
Senator Clinton informs the kids that they will continue after recess.

When they resume, Mrs. Clinton says, "Okay, where were we?
Oh, that's right, question time. Who has a question?"

A different little boy put his hand up.
Hillary pointed him out and asked him his name.

"Larry."
"And what is your question, Larry?"

"I have five questions: First - whatever happened to the medical health care plan you were paid to develop during your husband's eight years in the office as President?
Second - why would you run for President after your husband shamed the office?
Third - whatever happened to all those things you took when you left the White House?
Fourth - why did the recess bell go off 20 minutes early?
Fifth - what happened to Kenneth?"

See you in the morning on the Radio.

Post-Op Prickles

For those of you who have followed my post-cancer progress, I am delighted to share that I remain cancer-free, based on the last check up I had. One of my doctors correctly observed that the next step would be to “cure me of my cure,” which was a radical prostatectomy.

The recovery has been astounding in some regards, and frustrating in others. But as a friend recently reminded me, what I am now enduring certainly beats the alternative.

Doctors tell me people heal from surgeries in different ways. Some heal well and quickly, others generate excess scar tissue as the incision and surrounding flesh recover from the invasion. I fell into the second group, and eventually required three additional surgeries to “clear the plumbing” of scar tissue.

Another unique side effect some post-op patients experience is the body’s production of collagen plaque and calcium deposits, which create a whole other unique set of challenges. I am now being treated for that with a series of (careful) injections of Tamoxin to encourage my body to breakdown the plaque and restore its natural elasticity.
Funny, some women pay big bucks to have extra collagen injected into strategic areas of their bodies.

Let’s just say I feel today like I humped a porcupine.
Counting the anesthesia, there are 33 new perforations in an area that is abundant with nerve endings. Championship bull riders and horse whisperers have no fear of competition from me. This morning you couldn’t pay me enough to climb onto a coin-operated horse at Wal-Mart.

Fellahs, don’t get too squeamish when it comes to discussing your health in the nether regions of your body. If the ladies can climb into a pair of stirrups once a year for their gynecological exploration, you can at least endure a simple blood test to check your PSA level. As for me, at least two more rounds of prickly therapy will be needed, they tell me.
Please don’t needle me about my progress.