The bucket hysteria

Unlike most mass hysteria's in history, the bucket challenge comes from the top town. The head of the organization does it then he challenges his minions. Then the minions do it and challenge their minions. For those of us low on the totem pole there is the hope that the hysteria will have played out before it reaches our floors or God forbid, our offices.

So what should I do now with my portfolio

Well now the market is going down. As of Friday afternoon the Dow was $16493, lower than my prediction for the year ($17,250)  although the Dow peaked at $17.151 not long ago. I predict we're still going to hit my prediction but there will be rough riding ahead. So, I recommend,  if you are brave, keep your money in stocks but take some profits too.

I'm ultimately optimistic because the market today is scary enough to discourage most middle class Americans. Only people with great pensions or significant resources can play the game now. That means times will be good. Like restaurants, tourist resorts, stores, music venues and parties, the best things in life are only accessible for the few and not the masses.  "Oh yes, as a boy we had a summer place in the Hamptons, before it was discovered."

Being lousy at sports

I have always been lousy at sports. As a kid, no one wanted me on their team. I blame that on the fact that I had very few friends as a kid. At summer day camp I had to sit on the bus with the mentally disabled kid who also sucked at sports. As an adolescent I listened to the radio for hours with my poor coordination and skinny frame.

Now I am an adult and I don't have golfing or fishing buddies calling me up on weekends wanting me to make up a  foursome. I still suck at sports.

I drive around the area and suddenly come upon traffic jams in front of the high school. Everybody is watching their kids who are playing sports, and presumably, are good at it. After the game there will be barbecue and beer for the parents and baseball for the kids. Later the parents will engage in a little wife swapping  while I'll be at home watching Turner Classic Movies.

Today I sat down with a group of babyboomers and found out that people who shine at sports when they are young get arthritic and decrepit after they hit forty. At least that's what the lady drinking a Pinot Grigiot said. Apparently, if true, people who sucked at sports look better and have better health, at least comparatively, as they get older. That knowledge put me in a much better mood. Look I can sprint to the mailbox to retrieve my Netflix dvd. I'm so happy I always sucked at sports.

Guilty pleasures

It's summer and time to enjoy some guilty pleasures. My first one is Til Lease Do Us Part. It is a mildly amusing web series about two lesbians who break up but share the same apartment. Sort of fun. I like Eduardo.

Another guilty pleasure is a mainstream comedy on CBS, Mom. It seems this show has been getting a lot of airplay this summer. It shows the modern American family. Three generations of women live in one household. Mom and Grandmom are recovering alcoholics and the daughter is pregnant. The episodes of the AA meetings are fun. Sounds weird in concept but it is sort of endearing.

I originally thought Last Tango in Halifax was about Canada but it is about an extended family in rural England. It is also a show about a December to December romance and the troubled families that both oldsters have. Unless most shows, the women are all pretty homely, an unusual feature in tv. At heart a soap opera, but I find myself getting drawn in to this series. Nothing like a guilty pleasure when it is too hot to go out.

American teeth

Lately I've noticed that whenever French or British novels bring up American characters, they always bring up their teeth. Apparently, one way Brits distinguish themselves from Americans is by those symmetrical white monuments between our gums. In Peter Mayle's A good year, the character identifies a long lost relative as American simply by looking at her teeth. Apparently no matter how hard an American may try, the locals in foreign countries can spot them simply by looking at their bicuspids. Americans, at least Americans who travel abroad, visit the dentist more than our international friends.

Are we obsessed with our teeth? I always knew we Americans were obsessed with b--bs. Now I find out Americans are also known throughout the world for our dentifrices.

Hillary

Well, us Democrats are starting to get close to the hour of decision. Will it be Hillary or the un-Hillary. We almost selected her last time then we went for exotic and got behind Barack Obama. Why not Hillary? One reason is that we know her too well. Most of us were first introduced to her when she made the remark that she had better things to do than sit around baking cookies. Then as a new first lady she threw a plate at dear Bill, not that he probably didn't deserve it.

We know her as the estranged wife, the feminist, the smart stock picker. The woman who went on a listening tour of New York. She went on to be a Senator, then a presidential candidate, then a Secretary of State. Her record isn't that bad but among men of a certain age, she doesn't pass the likability test. She reminds us of the sister-in-law who doesn't allow smoking in the house or the school teacher who keeps our sons from playing sports because she gives them C's instead of gentleman's B's.


There's also the question of which is the real Hillary. Is she the sincere but competent  person we see in her new book or is she the sarcastic boozer displayed in the New York Post favorite new title. The sarcastic boozer seems to be more fun than the dull narrator of her own book.


Oh what are we to do? Republicans like to nominate dull people, although Bob Dole and Mitt Romney never made it through a general election. Nixon did, but then that was the "New Nixon". He seemed so nice when he played the piano on the Jack Paar show.


The Republicans have some new faces. Christie and Ted Cruz come to mind. Rand Paul would shake things up. Democrats could live with them as opponents.

When we were in high school we didn't want the girls we knew from Kindergarten, we wanted the mysterious new girl who came in from out-of-state.  We don't usually buy the same model car. We want new.  I suspect this is because so many of today's problems are intractable that no normal person can solve them. Barack knows that by now. We want a wizard and one requirement of a wizard is they are new enough to us that they appear to have magical powers.  

The Democrats may well nominate Hillary. But if they are smart they will package her as the "New Hillary".  Dye the hair! Become a Seventh Day Adventist! Ditch Bill!  My political advice. 

Warped tour

 I have a great memory for old rock and roll songs. Yesterday I went to an oldies show and I could sing along with almost all of the songs. I guess that's because when I was a youngster I listened to AM radio so much that the songs got drummed into my brain. I can remember all the lyrics to "Poison Ivy" but then why can't I find where I put my keys?

Memories aside, I am also curious what it is like being young, in an age where top 40 radio is in it's grave. In an attempt to try to keep up with what the younger generation is up to, I have been following the day to day adventures of Piddleass with her daily Youtube updates as she travels with the  Warped Tour troup of traveling rock and folksy singers through the country.  I get to watch the crummy bus she sleeps in, get to wander around the huge lots with food stands and outdoor concert venues. I get to see the backstage commissary for the "talent". Piddleass apparently is intoducing acts and talks to fans in the Youtube booth.

I suppose it would be fun being a traveling entertainer walking around in 90 degree fields full of young millenniums. Yesterday there was a dust storm. I guess the ghost of Woody Guthrie was there.  Some of the music isn't bad, but I don't recognize anybody.  I don't envy Piddleass the bus she has to sleep in or the dust, but I guess it is one of those experiences she will always remember.  I wonder when she will have an affair. It is inevitable, as inevitable as hangovers.