The Legacy of Woody Guthrie

When I was growing up, Arlo Guthrie was a rebel.

In an era when songs were neatly packaged for radio play and rarely even approached 4 minutes in length, his "Alice's Restaurant" was a beautiful gift for those disk jockeys with Irritable Bowel Syndrome. Prior to that, the first 4+ minute song to regularly receive airplay was "Ode to Billy Joe" in the summer of 1967.

Arlo Guthrie wasn't an accidental rebel. It was in his genes.

His father, Woody Guthrie blazed the trail.

Fascinatingly, despite the off beaten path of his ne-er do well life, Woody Guthrie is best remembered for his stirring songs, such as "This Land is Your Land,"  that sing the praises of America's natural beauty, as well as our own rights as a free people..

But he left behind another legacy.

That was for the passage of the genes necessary for that horribly generative neurological disease, Huntington's Disease, a disease which makes itself known during early adulthood and then eats away at the core of those so cruelly afflicted, until they just wither away to nothingness upon expiration

Huntington's Disease itself is at the core of a great ethical issue and internal personal conflict, as the presence of the gene combination necessary for it to manifest itself as the disease in future years can easily be known long before signs and symptoms appear.

The question facing the heirs of Woody Guthrie is whether they want to know their fate, especially since there is no treatment and certainly no cure.

How do you live your life knowing with  absolute certainty that you will begin a horrible descent? How do you look your own children in the eye knowing that you may have very well passed the same fate onto them?

The dilemma is further heightened when you consider the possibility that the health insurance companies that may pay for the diagnostic testing may conceivably then become the very same companies to deny care on the basis of the insured having a  "pre-exisiting condition."

We were never meant to know the unknown.

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Weekend Update

What an oddly serene, yet uncomfortable week coming up.

Here we were, on Good Friday, on the precipice of another year in which lunar coincidence allows Passover and Easter to coincide.

For many, serenity comes from family time, celebration and sometimes the re-inforcement of faith, culture and heritage.

In honor of the holiness of Good Friday, even capitalists will put away their arms and take the day off from their all consuming efforts. After all, the Prince of Peace wasn't exactly a fan of the 1%, so what better way to honor the message of peace than to take a day off from advancing your personal caches of wealth?

I may not recall much from my college Theology class days, but I'm fairly certain that among the things that was not discussed at that Last Supper Seder was hedging strategies for the coming week.

Even those Jewish people without much in the way of belief will retell the story of the Exodus from Egypt in whatever metaphors are appropriate for their own friends and family. Again, hedging strategies are not likely to play a role in the re-telling of the story.

But still, what a perfect day to release the employment numbers.

Our currency may say "In God We Trust," but report releases rest for no deity.

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Yikes

I don't know whether is the cacophony of "Heils"or perfectly synchronized goose stepping that color my perception, but something makes me uncomfortable when there appears to be near universal agreement on most any topic.

Yes. Starving children in Africa is bad. No argument there. Everyone can agree on that point. Even Malthusians, deep down, probably fret about the tragedies that befall the most vulnerable, despite believing in the necessity of those tragedies.  And yes, the repeated elections of Saddam Hussein represented the will of the people, but otherwise, too many people being on the same page develops a level of comfort that tend to overlook what should be obvious.

For me, that level of comfort begets discomfort. It's that point at which irrational exuberance becomes over-heated frothy exuberance, almost as if it had been left overnight on top of a new iPad.

This morning Goldman Sachs came out with what could only be described as an extraordinarily bullish call, at that point that we're now about 7% below the 2007 highs. They pronounced bonds as being "dead," which has no impact on me, since I never understood bonds, nor ever planned on being old enough to fall into the trap of asset allocation. Not to be overly exaggerating the opportunity, they reportedly said that "stocks offer the best opportunity of a lifetime."

But where were they and everyone else 6,000 points ago?

The answer comes when you read the fine print and learn that Goldman Sachs data indicated that the average life span of a Muppet is less than 4 years and their short term memory may be even less.

The on-air comments this morning included the suggestion that U.S. banks are so strong at this point that they could buy European banks and put them out of their misery. Additional comments took a variation of the risk on - risk off theme and applied it to China and the U.S.

More amazingly, there was discussion relating to holding accountable the talking heads that had been bearish over the past few thousand points on the Dow.

Now that's got to be a boldly bullish perspective when you're willing to call your mainstays out on the carpet, other than for the fact that there's an endless source of people clamoring to be a talking head and willing to say whatever it takes to get attention and notoriety.

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WWGD?

As we enter into Day 2 of the Greg Smith inspired crisis, once again, for those who have faith it's often very helpful to look at one of the many bracelet reminders on their wrists.

WWGD?

It's no surprise that should be a natural topic title, as I've already covered various crises from the perspectives of Johnny Cash and Moses, always asking the same question, which in this case is, "What would Goldman Do?"

In general, it's my belief that if you follow the basic behavioral principles established by either Cash or Moses, you'd be on pretty good footing, as long as you were able to maintain your faith and keep your cool in the face of mounting stress.

Oh, and stay off that cocaine. It's a nasty drug. Not everything that Cash did may be right for your situation. Consult with a pharmacologist before initiating any new strategies.

On Tuesday, in the last hour of trading shares of Goldman Sachs soared about $7 as results of the Federal Reserve's "Stress Test" were released.

Released? Well, sort of.

Actually, it was Jamie Dimon, CEO of America's bank, JP Morgan Chase, heir to the Morgans and Rockefellers, who jumped the gun by two days and as result speculation flowed regarding every other major bank's stress test standing. They were all bid up quickly in the absence of corroborating data in a perfect example of investors exercsing their "FOMO."

My guess is that Jamie Dimon, though perhaps well regarded, isn't terribly well liked within the administrative circles of the Federal Reserve. There's probably some residual disagreement over who helped who when it came to the "rescue" of Bear Stearns. Dimon certainly has used JP Morgan's role in that transaction to his public relations credit, if not also to his bottom line credits.

I know that people pay lots of money for the opportunity to have lunch with Warren Buffet, but I think I'd rather donate the money to charity for the opportunity to spend a day doing a pub crawl with Ben Bernanke and finding out how he really feels about certain things.

I'd start by asking about Ron Paul and Jamie Dimon.

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It's a Town Full of Losers

Today's big story was all about Goldman Sachs and the searing New York Times Op-Ed piece "Why I'm Leaving Goldman Sachs."

There was quite a bit of speculation that the Op-Ed's author, Greg Smith, a 12 year  employee and one with some corporate credibility, currently at the London office, was the man behind the snarky Twitter account, GSElevator, that recounts comments allegedly overheard on the Goldman Sachs elevator.

Clearly, he couldn't possibly be the mystery man behind that account, otherwise it would have been called "GSLift."

When I say "currently," I mean that Smith was a Goldman Sach employee as of yesterday. I'm  sure that if the Op-Ed appeared during his planned final few hours on the job, security would have figured out some way to escort him out the window or down the lift shaft.

When you put all of this together with the fact that Smith reportedly won a bronze metal in the Maccabiah Games in Table Tennis, you have the makings of a great John Carter-esque blockbuster.

A couple of things about Goldman Sachs.

I haven't owned shares in about two weeks and missed yesterday's 6% climb after JP Morgan leaked its "Stress Test" results, dividend increase and stock buy-back plans. Goldman Sachs was among a very small handful of stocks that helped lead me out of the morass from a few years ago when I picked up shares at about $85 and aggressively sold covered calls, riding it up and then occasionally down.

I last owned shares and had them assigned at $115, two weeks in a row. I like today's drop, but it's still not enough to entice me to get the shares again.

Nonetheless, I love Goldman Sachs almost as much as I don't love Dick Bove.

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Weekend Update

This has been a busy week, but not so much for me.

It figures that on the week that the blog begins its apperance as an offerng by Amazon Kindle Subscription services that I would miss two days worth of blogging.

But only in America can you choose to pay for a subscription service to have a blog delivered directly to your Kindle when you could just as easily opt to not read the blog online.

And for free.

What really doesn't figure is that there are actual subscribers.

First of all, special thanks to Tony Vahl of The Original Daily Skew for authoring a guest blog this week. I had enough foresight to arrange for that, but not enough to consider the fact that I might be somewhat under the weather. So much so, that I barely even made trades for two days and when I did, I think they were through the lens of a Percocet fueled analyst.

As if I ever practiced any form of analysis.

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Once in a Lifetime

The only kind of "Talking Head" that I like is the kind that I saw in concert on a twin bill with the Ramones in Boston.

I don't like the kind of "Talking Head" that convincingly and arrogantly explains to the droolers in the viewing audience why American Tower stock would plummet in value upon the announcement of an AT&T takeover of T-Mobile, and then just as arrogantly explain how American Tower shares would soar once the merger fell through.

You would think that when the initial hypothesis was proven wrong and shares of AMT outperformed the market, they might curb in a bit of the "smug factor" and maybe even do a public mea culpa upon it's subsequent "unexpected" underperformance.

And you would also think that when Deutsche Telecom annouinces that it will devote $4 billion, coincidentally the same amount as the break-up penalty, to expand its T-Mobile network, they would grown tired of the thesis.

But what else can Talking Heads do besides talk?

I know that I'll never be invited into the "Talking Head" club, although I continue to savor my brief taste.

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Reference Materials

One of the very nice things about not having to worry about my credibility is that I really don't need to reference my material.

It's such a welcome relief from the days past when my every word and opinion had to be referenced and sourced. Sometimes science, health care and other endeavors that require a factual basis and knowledge of those facts can be a real drag.

Although, to give myself some well-deserved credit, I was always reasonably good at fabricating supporting facts that sounded as if they were equally reasonable.

Often, people wouldn't question me, likely because they respected the fact that I had previously served as Prime Minister of Togo. That buys instant credibility, being in the 37th percentile of past public servants that are also faintly knowledgeable in basic stock investing.

Look it up.

Now, whatever I write is essentially no different than the unfiltered words and thoughts that may emanate from a child or an idiot, including the drool.

These days, just about the only time I avail myself of the vast informational database that is so readily available is to check my spelling. That in itself confuses me, because I really don't care very much about that level of detail. Besides, the human mind, when reading is really indifferent to spelling. Key mis-spellings, in fact, help to focus attention.

Szelhamos always used to say "it's good enough," when referring to any accomplishment related to a task at hand.

There was a time, like for so many of us, that I was a wunderkind in both math and spelling.

Obviously, technology made those portions of the brain go dormant. What's even worse is that despite looking up the correct spelling of words, I seem to continually have to return for the very same word each and every time I can't think of a synonym whose spelling I already know.

The ability to learn or retain is gone, as is my bank of ready to go synonyms.

The word that I find myself checking most often is when I'm making a reference to the "Oracle of Omaha."

Today, Governor Chris Christie, the man who had New Jersey's flags fly at half mast in honor of Whitney Houston, was pretty blunt about how he felt regarding the wealthy paying more in taxes than they were required by the existing tax code.

Whereas I may have some difficulty with the spelling of the name, Governor Christie clearly knows the difference between "Buffett" and "Buffet."

In at least one regard, I don't.

Neither the politics nor the fairness of the tax code really interests me, although I suppose it should, as increasingly I've become dependent on short term capital gains and dividends.

Instead, I'm focused on the buffet.

Over the course of a lifetime I've had the opportunity to try a wide range of those all you can eat delights, ranging from the "truly hideous" to the "beyond elegant."

At it's most basic, the "all you can eat" strategy at the Howard Johnson restaurants of generations ago was a great deal, as long as you liked fried fish on Tuesday night or fried chicken on Thursday night and didn't mind the embarrassment of asking the waitress for more.

And more.

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Love Stinks

I know that "Love Stinks" is not exactly an original sentiment. It's either wildly appropriate or inappropriate of a sentiment on Valentines Day.

The other day as those who were not watching Oprah Winfrey's show on a behind the scenes look at life in an Orthodox Jewish were watching the Grammy awards, they got to see songstress Adele receive six awards.

By now, everyone on the planet knows the stories of personal and emotional pain behind some of her songs, such as "Someone Like You." Great story for sure, but I'd really like to know the story behind the J. Geils Band song "Love Stinks."

Yeah, yeah.

But as long as it is Valentines Day, it's obligatory to search for things that you do love and express those feelings.

Among the things that I love is how egalitarian Twtitter is, allowing everyone to rub elbows, as long as they maintain some kind of decorum and don't show excessive skin on their Avatars.

You also get to see communication, exchange and banter between and sometimes among reasonably well known people. That is, if you happen to travel in a highly defined circle. The love of my life, my Sugar Momma, doesn't travel in that circle or even its outskirts, where I hang out, but even she now knows the name Herb Greenberg.

Even the "hoity toity" of Twitter will occasionally respond to the "hoi polloi." Greenberg is not among the "hoity toity," he's a big advocate of engaging the masses and does so on a very regular basis.

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Experience is Meaningless

Everyone knows that "history repeats itself."

That must explain why we keep making the same mistakes. After all, since we all know that you can't change history, why even bother?

Unless you're Newt Gingrich. In that case revisionism seems to work, as long as he remains the victor and in charge of re-writing history.

For example, Newt's current position, which seemed to make hostess candy Crowley's eyebrows rise about 5 inches, is that his congressional reprimand for ethics violations occured only because he convinced Republican members to vote for the reprimand so that they could get back to the business of working on a balanced budget.

He credits himself with getting the Congress back to work and selflessly sacrificing his reputation.

After all, is there any politician that wouldn't put nation before self?

History tells us that the victor writes history until the next victor comes along.

Once you call yourself an "historian," you get a free pass and can alter immutable laws of time and place and make the details of the past fit nicely into the current version of the past. Again, being ascendant helps.

But we're also said to be able to learn from history and especially to learn from our mistakes. In fact, "fool me once...." speaks to the expectation that we won't make the same mistake a second time.

Sometimes, though, the past may lead us down the wrong path.

My guess is that it would be a grave mistake, perhaps literally, were Newt Gingrich to ask Callista to accept an "open marriage." The fact that she reportedly supported the concept before their marriage probably has little predictive capability in 2012.

There's no greater indicator of our pre-occupation with the concept of changing the past and our mistakes than the fact that the single most aired movie on broadcast television and cable is "Groundhog Day."

I may have made that statistic up, but right now, I'm the one re-writing history.

Had we really been able to learn from the past there would have been Stephen Tobolowsky film festivals competing with Sundance and Cannes.

So clearly, we are all idiots, but at least Tobolowsky is front and center on Twitter and forms the basis for a more hopeful view of the future.

Not so long ago, only the spoken word was available to document our history and experiences. Life spans were short and there were people whose sole reason for existence was to maintain a culture's hold onto its past and pass it on to the next generation.

During those days mistakes were often fatal. That's a strong motivator to not repeat some dead guy's mis-step.

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