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Monday, May 4, 2009

Black Death for the bears!


Looks like Mr. Market no longer believes the bears! Why should he? Are they a company of liars?

The above book was a fictionalized account about the Black Plague in 1348; a world then ruled by faith and fear.

Wasn't that the same on Wall Street? Instead of the the "Black Plaque" we had the "swine flu." And instead of faith in the future, the street was overcome with fear! Whose agenda was that? Wasn't that the agenda by those who profited from it?

The stress test? Swine Flu? Obama bashing Wall Street? $30 oil? 325 S&P? Downgrades of Cisco, Disney and WalMart by Goldman? Toxic assets? Great Depression II? Uber-bears? Perma bears? The protestations by the chief of the NYSE saying the rally wasn't real? The exhortations to sell by the pundits? Roubini's churlish bearishness? David Rosenberg's bearish screeds? Mike Mayo's Seven Deadly Sins? Henry Blodget's bearishness? George Soros' backache?

Did any of you get caught with this Company of "lies?"

Wasn't all that foolishness chronicled here? Is it any wonder, the bears will no longer read these screeds? As Narigorm said in the book, "I did tell him the truth," she said savagely. "I'll tell you yours, then you'll see."

But let me quote a couple passages from the book. Maybe the bears could say these apply to some of the bulls! Let's be equal opportunity bashers!

Compared to some, my trade might be considered respectable and it does no harm. You might say it even does good, for I sell hope and that's the most precious treasure of them all. Hope may be an illusion, but it's what keeps you from jumping in the river or swallowing hemlock. Hope is a beautiful lie and it requires talent to create it for others.

I am, after all a Camelot, a peddler, a hawker of hopes and crossed fingers, of piecrust promises and gilded stories. And believe me, there are plenty who will buy such things. I sell faith in a bottle: the water of the Jordan drawn from the very spot where the Dove descended, the bones of the innocents slaughtered in Bethlehem, and the shards of the lamps carried by the wise virgins. I offer skeins of Mary Magdalene's hair, redder than a young boy's blushes, and the white milk of the Virgin Mary in tiny ampoules no plumper than her nipples. I show them the blackened fingers of Saint Joseph, palm leaves from the Promised land, and hair from the very ass that bore our blessed Lord into Jerusalem.

The only question you need to consider, about the soothsayers on the street, was also in the book.

It's hard to tell with some of the fortune tellers if they believe in their own art or not!

And on Wall Street the bears believed that belief made things true!

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