σας ευχαριστώ, ben
شكرا لكم، بن
The world over, in every language, from French to Mandarin to Greek to Arabic, the same words are being spoken with incredible enthusiasm, often in a voice that cracks with unbridled emotion and gratitude. They are three simple words: Thank you, Ben. But there are always the forgotten ones, those who declined the invite. Now, they lay in their beds, pulling their pillows tightly over their heads, cursing the loud music and laughter coming from next door as they hold firm to their righteous beliefs that such frivolity does no one any good -- it's too late, it's too dangerous, it's sacrilege, it's too Keynesian. Good luck with handling the outflows.
Frankly, I don't care if Keynes is throwing the party, or Bernanke or Draghi. All I want is to have a good time. I don't care if the host pays the caterer after I leave or doesn't -- ain't my problem, ain't my job. And cleaning up -- that ain't my job either. I'll be long gone before the mess has to be cleaned up.
I was in a similar situation once. I was in college, working weekends at a job that started at 6 a.m., so I decided to go to bed early. It wasn't my usual M.O., but I had peaked earlier in the week and was exhausted. With the party in the dorm just getting going, I found myself tossing and turning and cursing out those morons next door. Finally, I threw off the covers and threw on the jeans and joined in. Someone else would have to throw the towels in the washer at the tennis club (or I would just fold the dirty ones -- who would know? They sweat like pigs anyway).
So the bears have a choice: let common sense and a strong belief that what Bernanke is doing is wrong rule and miss the party, or say "what the hell" and join in. If they're smart, they took the latter route and realized that it's not their job to debate economic policy and what the long term impact of QE will be. It's their job to make money, and when the world over is easing -- except for the Chinese, whose contribution is to pay lip service to it -- you have to lift the glass.
Thus, the only question is, how much of a good time is too much? Can I throw back that last jello shot, or is it time to hail a cab and head home? For me, my margin of error is sometime before Rosie O'Donnell starts looking like Kate Upton and when I start talking about how, at 5'8" (maybe), I used to be able to dunk a basketball. But having been around long enough, I'm not going to get greedy. I'll be back to shorting materials soon, but for now, I drink the castor oil and am long some of the worst positioned companies I could find: steel and iron ore. I do feel guilty going to the dark side, but these are only trades.
My favorite quote of the day comes from Home Depot as they announce the closure of seven big boxes in China:
"China is a do-it-for-me market, not a do-it-yourself market, so we have to adjust," the company said, although the country's slowing economy is also not helping.
Are these really the same people that are going to take over the world? They can't even find their Chosen One, although I had heard he was spotted in Macau driving a Ferrari with a Pamela Anderson look-alike (circa 1998) in the passenger seat while looking for a role as an extra in "The Hangover III".