Because bonds are up, feel free to get drunk and buy stocks. Do so with reckless abandon. Kick your dogs and neighbors, then bury his cats in the yard while investing in Goldman Sachs.
Look at me, do I look scared? I am about to leverage myself to the hilt, frantically buying stocks that are ‘good’ because I’ve seen the future.
I’ve been to the future and it is joyous, splendid almost. The market is in its infancy of winship, spurred on by men with deep pockets and long arms.
If GS doesn’t hit $160 within 2 weeks, I will cut my penis off.
Ah, I can’t wait to book my profits and buy a Maserati, throw money into the fire pit for sport.
Until then, “The Fly” will be plugging away, watching the Risk Appetite Index, confident as a hungry lion inside of a room filled with newly wed gay guys.