What an interesting day. I was in South Miami by 8:30 A.M. JP and I went for breakfast. His bond funds have done the same as mine, that is, lost 40% in value. Something is fishy, because bonds, with a fixed rate of return, are supposed to increase in value during economic downswings. That is precisely why I bought EatonVance (ETHYX). Yet both our portfolios have plunged, in my case from $10.01 per share to $6.58. I would hate to be forced to sell under such circumstances, know what I mean? He lost on ICA (Investment Company of America) by holding on after I sold.ICA is the outfit in business since what, 1931? I chose them because they only invest in dividend-producing stocks. They weren’t immune to what happened and took a few hits. Overall, I lost only a couple hundred bucks over 8 years, all capital loss. JP may have lost close to half his original investment. Ouch. This is a depression in all but government parlance.
Don’t you love a day when you get dozens of small projects all taken care of in a short burst of activity? I even sent out my Xmas bonus to Seattle, money for half a tank of gas. I had the pleasure of telling them the money order was smaller because gas had gone down so much recently. I saw regular gas for $1.84 out west on Pembroke. Absolutely everything is caught up and I can now focus 100% on matters that concern me the most.
I met a guitar player slash vocalist, but he is a little strange, as in talks out loud to himself. I talk to my cat because some vet recommended that. This guitarist is sort of 70s rock and roll, the exact era that represents a ten-year gap in my music because I was too poor to keep up with music. The later music of most established bands also proved over-departed from what made them famous. All groups seemed to turn to big orchestral arrangements. Moody Blues, Deep Purple, even ex-Beatles, all tended toward music that could not be performed live with their original members. Hence, I know Led Zep I, he knows How The West Was Won.
Okay, time to figure out where the slight aroma of mothballs has gotten into all my clothes. I can barely tell, but every few minutes, there it is This calls for some sleuthing since I don’t even keep mothballs in the house. They remind me of Steve, who thought I wrecked all his clothes despite my instructions to hang them in the sun for an hour. I had to wash them, they were getting rank. Steve is the guy who caused Pudding-Tat to be here. He’s still in the slammer.
