The Dumb People Index

So, I was out at a party… okay, I crashed a bridal shower.  It wasn’t my fault, the father of the bride wanted some company in a sea of estrogen.  Anyway, it was fun to say the least.  A little awkward I’ll admit. I’m just glad I arrived afterthey opened the gifts (is that a back-scratcher?  Ohhhh, nevermind.)   So after making my way through the room, being chastised by every women in site for being at a non-male event, I finally made my way to where some of the other brave husbands were hanging out.  It’s a pretty huge house, so we had a little privacy.   There was  nothing really manly about this corner of the house though, since they were all eating cupcakes with plastic flower ornaments all over them.  Curse those flowers!  I thought they were real candy and nearly chipped my tooth.  Whatever, it gets worse.  Five guys in the corner of a barbie doll house, thinking quickly of something manly to do with frosting on our cheeks, someone decides to bring up the topic of stocks.  Most of these guys are light traders, a buy here and there whenever they hear something good from someone else.  But here’s the thing… I’ve been around these guys for a long time and they never talk about stocks.  They never share anything, only until now.  And this happened before…  I would say during 1999, and 2005, they always pop up.  Telling you to buy everything.  Worse yet, they offer me a penny stock tip, which as you all know, gives me the sudden urge to run over a cat.  I was in the gym the other day, and conversations about the market are starting to resurface again.  Well, it’s just a small observation from my perspective- maybe it doesn’t mean anything, but it seems like everyone is winning again, even the dumb money.  Hey, that’s fine with me, but I always look at the big picture.  All I ask  is that you play devil’s advocate whenever someone offers you a stock tip when you know they are not in the habit of studying fundamentals, charts and have no access to a solid community of good traders.   Yes, when your friend’s blind grandmother, your priest at confessions, or  your inmate, or Cramer starts offering you stock tips, then you know we’re probably near the top.  Meanwhile, I do listen to advice from bartenders, NYC cab drivers, limo drivers, and masseurs.  They always seem to have insider information.  I wonder why.