Predictions for 2019

I'm old enough to remember New Year's Eve as the time Louis Rukeyser and his guests would sit around in tuxedos and predict the stock market for the year. One guest would be lauded as having been right and the others would be scolded for being oh so wrong.

This year I am a bit proud of myself for coming right close to predicting the close on the Dow and S and P indexes. I predicted the Dow would close at 23000 and it closed at 23327. I predicted the S and P would close at 2450 and it closed at 2507. I was overly optimistic on the NASDAQ, predicting 6800 when in fact it closed at 6635. I prontificated Microsoft to be selling at 70 when it is in fact now selling at 101.57. I was also wrong on oil prices, now selling for 45.81 instead of my inflated 80.

The Eagles are going to the playoffs, (I was right) . I predict they will lose before the Superbowl at the end of this month. Next year they will not be "in the hunt". Interest rates will go up, but not by much. My big prediction is that Mike Pence will be our president this time next year. The Donald will announce his resignation on Twitter. Americans will again be selling cherries and soybeans to China. Actually I am mildly bullish on the new year.


    Entity:                Today:               December 31, 2019:

Dow Jones               23327               26000
S and P                      2507                2900
NAS                          6635                7000
Oil                              45.81              70
Unemployed               4.1%               4.5%
Microsoft                  101.57             120

Editor's note: I own stock in Microsoft.

I still don't have an Echo

Here is a cute article about digital assistants. Got me thinking that it is time I updated my list on things that baby boomers have to have in order to be successful. Truth be told I still don't have an Echo. But as of today I have a Roomba.

For Christmas someone gave me one.  It now meant I was one step away from entering the sphere of successful baby boomers. It was vintage. Apparently it was an early model, at least 12 years old, judging from the Copyright date on the package. It was huge. I plugged it in. Nothing. I left it in for an hour so that the battery would charge.  Nothing.

I figured the battery probably was too old so I bought a new battery pack on the Internet. I plugged in the new battery. I felt so resourceful. I plugged the Roomba into the wall. Nothing. The instructions said the green light may not come on right away. I waited an hour and a half. No green light. I unplugged it. I turned it on. Yes it worked! The lights came on! I started using it. It works!

I am in Roomba Heaven. How much fun it is watching the thing go around in circles and bump into furniture. I put my new D batteries in the Roomba guards. The Roomba learned to stop at the guard lines. They worked! I emptied the trash receptacle. There was stuff inside!

Now instead of taking 15 minutes to vacuum and dust my floor it takes an hour but I get to follow the Roomba around like a proud parent watching his toddler negotiate the living room. I am one step closer to being a successful baby boomer. I'm still waiting for someone to give me an Echo.

Editor's update: Someone gave me an Echo.

Guilty pleasures

As the weather gets colder and we spend more time with our televisions I would like to describe a few of my guilty pleasures in viewing. Thanks to Netflix, I am now watching Kath and Kim. This Australian show gave birth to the phrase "muffin top" and is good for a few laughs.

On YouTube I have lately been watching Being British, where Joel and Lia traipse around Britain and other parts (they were in New Jersey a few months ago). A Canadian in Britain who does an entertaining show is Adventures and Naps. I also watch a lot of travel shows like Travel Light. I especially liked the one where the hostess attacked by monkeys.

A column I regularly read to learn about the trials and tribulations of white baby boomers who hope to inherit money is the Moneyist. That column has taught me a lot about life. Sorry. Idle hands are the devil's workshop.

Those Hungarians are coming

Recently I haven't been locking my door at night, secure in the knowledge that our president was going to keep the hoards of Hungarians marching up through Mexico in Mexico. With the new election though, I'm not so sure. 

I'm afraid the caravan is still a'coming and those new hot shot Democrats in the House are going to welcome them in with green cards, Medicaid cards and food stamps. I can see them now, the park I walk old Rustus being taken over by tents and soup kitchens and Spanish music. 

It's back to latching my back doors again. And now I have to find a new place for old Rustus to do his business. 

Group dynamics

Yes I'm back from my trip to Italy. The first thing I learned is that, in Italy, bathrooms are somewhat scarce, and even the best restaurants have two at the maximum of  toilettes. Half way through the dinner, I learned to leave the table and do my business if I wanted to avoid a line. As a point of patriotic pride, we can all be proud of the fact that America has the best and most plentiful bathrooms. Travel the world you may, no one has toilets like the USA.

As this was my first trip with a group, I was fascinated with the group dynamics. Our group had a wide assortment of ages, 30 to 88. Professions from pharmaceutical engineer to out of work actor. We had a writer of young adult fiction, who, when googled, also wrote erotic fiction. It, in general, was a jovial group. I hope they give their livers a rest now that they are back in the world of modern bathroom conveniences.

There was a budding romance, but alas, by the last two days, there was a falling out. There were rivalries, malicious gossip, and a few catty remarks along the way, but in general it was a harmonious group.

Cliques naturally formed. A group of twenty doing everything together would be unwieldy. The cliques mostly formed among people based on their previous ties. I was even allowed into a clique. Most people stayed in their cliques, but I noticed there were a few floaters. One woman took the boat ride with group A but then sat at the table of group B for dinner. Another floater turned up at the swimming pool unexpectedly.

I was sitting in my hotel room watching the tv, an American western with German voice overs, when I decided on a lark to have a beer in the bar. When I entered the bar I found a merry group from the tour imbibing and telling drunken anecdotes. The anecdotes were in English. There were more than a few latecomers to the free breakfast the next morning.

Editor's note: No, no one died in the swimming pool. New blog in the Sixties.

Husking corn in the supermarket

Recently, I noticed groups of people shucking corn in the middle of the Shop-Rite. There was a huge barrel they were using to collect the stalks. They all seemed so industrious.

Occasionally I do buy corn in the summer but I never bother to shuck them, or even bag them. I just throw them loose in the shopping cart. I always assumed it is because I am lazy and am a procrastinator. I figure I'll deal with the corn at home before I microwave it. Yes it does put me in charge of getting rid of the husks but why do work today you can put off til tomorrow?

I put in shucking corn at the grocery store in Google and came across a variety of comments. Most people seem to think it's a bad idea because shucked corn does not stay as fresh as they do in nature's envelopes. One lady in charge of buying corn for a large family admitted it makes things easier to keep clean in the kitchen without all the corn husks and corn silk that gets into everything.

I guess I'll now continue to shuck corn at home. Like the hipsters.

Two summer time books

Since I haven't blogged in a while I thought I would write about two books I recently finished. Both library books and both touch on the topics of adults in love with teenagers. In the Edith Wharton book, the Children, the affair is never consummated while in the Zoe Heller book (above)  the affair is more than consummated. Both books are products of their times, I suppose.

The Children describes a sub group called "hotel children" that apparently existed previous to WW2 where children would wander around in hotels as their parents and step-parents sauntered from fashionable resort to fashionable resort. This during an era when the children of the rich did not have to go to school but, perhaps with the aid of a tutor, wander the earth until they had the opportunity to marry, presumably to marry well. Today even the most idle of the rich send their children to schools. I guess it is the post WW2 obsession with education, at least in the West.

The protagonist, Martin, unknowingly falls in love with a fifteen year old, even though he is betrothed to someone of his own age and class. This is a fun book, and like most Edith Wharton, is a pleasurable read.

The next book, Notes on a Scandal is great fun. The author's voice is herself somewhat eccentric, which adds to the intrigue as the hint of lesbos appears. Apparently she is  bored with the people at work whom she has known for years, and becomes fascinated when a new, exciting female school teacher enters the faculty. She vies for attention with this new novelty in the form of an attractive crafts teacher. The teacher, however, is more interested in the novelty of a fifteen year old boy.

The weird thing about the story is that the school teacher is presented as a likeable character, even if she is going against the "thou shalt not sleep with thy students" taboo. Martin is also likeable, the way indecisive people can be.