Musings From the Top

Never mind dry bulk shipping rates in the gutter. Dry bulk shippers are off to the races, just like the homebuilders, despite fundamentals. After all, the market is a discounting mechanism. Therefore, it is discounting all of the bad news and putting it in the glove compartment, to be forgotten forever–until a cop searches said car of course.

Normally, I wish good fortune upon everyone. I have no desire to strip you of your coin, unless you have it coming to you. I read your comments and feel the vast majority of people here do not deserve to have money. You should and shall be stripped of it!

Good heavens, FOSL was down 5, now it’s doing the Michael Johnson. I guess I was right about that fucker too when I was buying in the high $70’s. The same people who talked shit then, talked shit about LULU, DECK, GSVC, WNR and now the SPY. Generally speaking, and I mean this with the utmost sincerity, you have no fucking idea what you are talking about. It’s hilarious, actually. My colleagues throw mashed potatoes at the screen, rolling on the floor, laughing at your folly. Some of you are the worst investors in America.

You do realize I speak with thousands of investors, right? See, unlike the other piker finance bloggers out there, or talking heads on the teevee, I run a multimillion dollar money management business and talk to some of the wealthiest people in the country. I get a feel for the economy and test the winds through candid discussions. I’ve encountered some truly talented people in my career and some pretty awful ones. By far, some of you are the worst investors I’ve ever had the dishonor of meeting are people from the internet. So many of you are disheveled, unemployed, small fish, trying to skirt responsibilities through trading. Doubly painful, it’s the very people who think they are so good, calling me (chuckle) a contrary indicator, who live on the bottom of the barrel.

This is your wake up call, pal. Get to work.

NOTE: Today’s VXX buy represented 3% of assets.

I bought VXX.

For the record, “The Fly” doesn’t golf. As far as I am concerned, if you are a family man, like myself, one that is enterprising, building business through industry, you have no fucking business on a golf course. You are either a degenerate or a lazy man, should you find yourself teeing off with your jerkoff friends. Grow up already.

The way I see it, golf is an avocation for the retired, the gold Rolex crowd, men who can look at their families and their bank accounts and say: “I’ve done a good job; now everyone fuck off while I go play with my balls.”

It’s valentines day, which means many of you spent a good penny on gifts for your loved ones. It’s a wise investment, if I might say so myself. Anything that improves relations also increases quality of life. The price tag for quality of life is infinite; therefore, feel free to splurge every so often. It’s the miser, mind you, who is miserable more often than not. It’s the miser, mind you, who will die a rich and ignorant man.

Well, you know my market position: boring, in cash, with a dash of TZA–only for my personal. I must admit, the market is very impressive and I am proud of the traders inside of The PPT and 12631 for making a killing. There are so many well informed traders/investors inside of those rooms, it is absolutely staggering. Had I known about such a venue, when I was starting out 15 years ago, I would have saved myself from agonizing losses through undisciplined defeats by watching others do it right.

Speaking of which, I am determined, head firmly made from granite, to wait for my dip. I am up 18% for the year and possess the patience of an elephant.

Three jerkoffs in a punch buggy are driving down a street, laughing gayly whilst listening to Chris Brown songs, until a boulder shaped like an anvil drops from a cliff 500 feet above, crushing the car and all of its occupants. An ambulance arrives and declares all thee travelers dead on the scene. Shortly thereafter, the coroner comes and ushers the bodies away for proper burial. The fire department sends three trucks, mainly to block traffic, and to ring alarms and flash their fucking lights. The local newspaper hack is there too, taking pictures and recording the grim scene for all of his readers. It is a big deal, as it makes the local news reports, even a national newspaper.

The next day people are careful when driving, looking up at the cliff above for errant boulders that may attempt to murder them while driving. The newspaper people laud and praise how cordial everyone seems to be behaving, post tragedy. Everyone feels grateful for being alive and heeds caution while passing by the spot where those three jerkoffs were crushed into pancakes.

One month later, no one remembers the tragedy or the boulders above. They speed with reckless abandon because their engines were built to break the law. One young zealot has a license plate that says “FCKBOULDRS.” He zips by slow moving station wagons– doing 95mph while sticking his middle finger out of his window. People are jealous of this young man and trade in their station wagons for fast cars. Soon enough, everyone is driving race cars, drinking beers, while sticking their middle fingers at the memorial where the three jerkoffs were killed.

As they do this, ever so quietly, murderous boulders are ajar 500 feet above.

I’m very happy for all of you, greedily making money in an already overbought tape. There is something singularly wonderful about gluttony, especially when done with brazen abandon. You fuckers have chocolate ganache all over your faces, swimming in shark infested waters, with chum attached to your dicks.

I spent the day looking for homes, preferably adjacent to golf courses. Lucky for me, Mrs. Fly has already taken the liberties to plot out early construction on a home I haven’t even purchased yet, with $100k in flooring renovations schemed between her and an egregious supplier.

I am a very fortunate man, indeud.

My only position, CPST, bled out a bit today, as expected. Let the weak hands capitulate and sell. I will accumulate more when the selling subsides. Look at GMXR. Just two weeks ago that stock was headed to $00.00; now it’s going to the moon.

GMCR pressed higher today, again responding nicely to The PPT‘s OVERSOLD signal, registered on Friday. There are so many stocks tempting me to buy them; but I resist, like a reformed crack addict inside of a crack house, reading a bible and scowling at the others sucking dicks made from glass.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=V5Wzk-Xy0J4&feature=g-vrec&context=G28cdaa7RVAAAAAAAAAQ

Everything that is of any value in this world resides in AAPL. Tim Cook, CEO of Apple, may not know shit about shinola; but he is keenly adept at running with the foolsball. Naturally, the passing of Steve Jobs is reason to bid up the shares of AAPL to infinity. After all, they have $100 billion in cash and dominate every facet of American culture, soon to be worldwide.

I dare say, Apple is worth $1 trillion–because they are going to make televisions. They will snatch back an old American industry, from the hands of the mongrel Koreans, and outsource that shit to Shenzen, China (FOXCONN SUICIDE SLAVE FACTORY), all for the direct benefit of the American citizenry.

We will happily and gallantly flock to the Apple stores, like sheep in search of grain, clamoring over the new television, elbowing one another about the teeth and jaw, to secure a premier space on line. Some people will bring knives and stab others in the stomach, others will simply mug women and children for their wares. One thing is for certain: no one benefits from the explosion of Apple, but Apple.

The fucking parts makers and contract manufacturers can suck a dick, as they are forced to work for free, just in order to grab volume and hope to slice out a small profit (think crumbs falling off a table to be eaten by mice).

God is Apple and Apple is God. Its creator descends on us mortals from the heavens, throwing lightening bolts and hail at us when he is angry, which is quite often. Betting against AAPL is equal to betting against the sun rising or the moon and the stars glistening in the evening.

Get your fair share of the profits to be had and bid it up to $1,000: celebrate religious expression through gratuitous consumerism.

I will not bore you with false sympathy for crackheads who end up drowning themselves inside hotel bathtubs. In the first place, it isn’t sanitary to soak in a public bathtub, let alone die in one. Remember the basic tenant of what “The Fly” is all about, a despiser and lamenter of all people both alive and dead, and go away knowing that you are the better person. Yep.

Some of you choose to waste your days worshipping with child abusing dick-suckers. Others choose to live and behave like upright walking pigs, inside of homes removed from tasteful decor, opting for plebeian formica over basic granite.

Moving into next week, there will likely be a Greek deal and a sell on the news event, leading to the beginning of the margin liquidation process. This is all playing out for me, Matrix style, in slow motion, for the explicit purposes of gratuitous profit. I’m sorry to say that I have not compiled a watchlist of stocks to buy because I feel there is downside. If anything, a little TZA and VXX can be tossed onto the barbie. But the majority of my money will be held in SMA.

Finally, we have 1 spot left for the annual March Madness contest. The grand prize is $1,000. Second place prize is a set of steak knives. Third prize is you’re fucking banned from the site. The contest begins tomorrow, so hurry the fuck up else lose your chance. Cheap fuckers.

But fear itself.

Aside from the spike in volatility, the market looks okay. Screening for recent winners on dips, with market caps over $500 million, I could only find 39 stocks that have pulled back by 5% or more over the past week. We haven’t seen the leadership names pull back yet. And if they have, the declines are too small to register on any alert bot.

Like the wonderful shares of AAPL, the market is innocent until proven innocent.

Today’s slap in the face of CPST cost me 0.5%. I am not fond of 10% pullbacks and loathe losers like the people from Staten Island ward off sunscreen. Nevertheless, I remain stoically emphatic that we are due for a thrashing, or two, and remain in a 95% cash position awaiting the inevitable. Keep in mind, I do not care about CPST, not in the least. I’ve decided to keep it around, sort of like a dog or a servant, to entertain me for several quarters. I will make real money, from real allocations, whenever I decide to step back in.

“Doctor, Doctor, what should we do?”

“Let him bleed out until he is dead.”

If you are heavily long today and incur some losses, try not to lament over it. You’re never going to catch the top. I’ve always made it a point to attempt to snatch the juicy middle. The rest of you bag manufacturers can pick away at the edges. Providing you are a half-way competent investor, you’re likely up around 15-40% this year. Giving back a mere 1-5% is part of the game, mere child’s play.

However, do not let your hubris get in the way of risk-management, knowing when to take your chips, and hooker, back to the hotel suite.

That’s the last you will read of me lecturing you, warning of the tough times ahead. I’ve done my duty, as a proud citizen of the United Steaks of America. The rest I leave up to the impulses of the unwashed-persona non grata class.

The CPST numbers were very good, in my opinion. You need to discard eps versus expectations and understand the anatomy of a turn around. Ask yourself if these things are present with the company and decide if you should hold onto the shares.

1. Good management
2. Improving margins
3. Accelerating growth
4. Good environment for their products
5. Do they have a technological edge?

Needless to say, I am holding onto my shares and will buy more if they dip.

Aside from that, “The Fly” will be watching the market closely, monitoring his screens– and generally– living life free and with dignity. Looking forward to the weekend, I am taking Mrs. Fly to a newly minted Michelin star restaurant, in order to celebrate valentines day. As you know, only disheveled vagrants, and the lower class, celebrate valentines day on valentines day.

Now I know some of you married men don’t give a fuck about valentines day and opt out of the holiday, mainly because you are selfish ham and eggers. Do the honorable thing and make your wife feel special; buy her a gift and take her to dinner–you fucking barbarians! It’s bad enough she has to put up with your shit all year long. The very least you can do is show a bit of chivalry on just one fucking day of the year. God damn it.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=wJWQc_Drrm0

I just witnessed one of the dumbest creatures aka “bitch” in the world, in front of me at the local CVS store. She laid into the teenage cash register guy for not having her correct information like you would not believe. The bitch went fucking postal, Jersey Shore style, demanding to see managers, CEO’s and “whoever the fuck is in charge of this shit.” As she droned on, with her two idiot teenage kids in the background, the line grew long. As a matter of fact, it wrapped around the aisle, breaching fire safety laws, all because she “wuz helpin’ out some fuck all this time by not having my right numbah’ in the system.”

I really need to leave Staten Island, for my health and for the safety of my neighbors. I NEED THE KEYS TO ZION.

Moving on, this whole cash situation I find myself in is not unique. I’ve tried it plenty of times before and always capitulated, giving into the excesses of the bull. But this time is different because I am up nearly 20% after just one month of trade. Nevertheless, it’s going to be real hard to sit on the sidelines, watching all of you faggots banking coin.

Inside 12631, Ragin’ Cajun is on one of those unbelievable runs, bagging 20% winners like China dishes out accounting scandals. It has been sublime, watching him and Chess absolutely destroy this tape. Bar none, and I’m putting it out there for anyone to challenge, there is no better trading room on the internet than 12631.

All I want from this market is a little blood. Is that too much to ask for? I want panic and fear to hit the tape, causing a cascade of sell orders, the likes this planet has never seen before. Then I want to step in, like a degenerate vulture, and buy it all up.

Still waiting in the tall grass, albeit impatient, looking to kill a few zebras for sport.