I sought relief by curling up under a serape and a big quilt. It was illusion, within moments it was clear I was not chilled but running a fever. My choices were to stay exposed in the air shuddering, or bundle up hotter than a sauna. I chose to stay under the covers as there is no way the uncontrollable quaking was therapeutic.Get this, other than coffee, food had become tasteless except for the spices therein. I had shrimp jambalaya and could only enjoy the Cajun part. Somehow, with coffee I can both taste and smell but all other food is bland. My nostrils are utterly blocked but occasionally suddenly clear for. This wakes me up, as the passageways are tender and burn when hit with fresh air. It's a slow day when being stuffed up is the top morning news event around here.
From now, I promise to be more empathetic about tropical disease. Since I am ambulatory and able to get everything done, the assumption is my case is mild. It is not that bad, I have not really been laid up with a flu since I was a kid. Last week I saw photos of malaria victims on stretchers. That makes more sense now, I mean, how they never really recover.
Keeping healthy, I tried low sodium V8 vegetable juice. Too bad that is what it tastes like. I had to spike it with soy sauce. So I biked downtown for coffee. Hmmm, Starbucks again, am I detecting a new weekend pattern as things begin to pick up? I ran into an old customer who is into network marketing silver coins. I patiently listened and I’ll check the website, Numis, short, I presume, for numismatist.
There is money to be made in metals, for they must gain in American dollars as the pent up inflation reaches the proverbial corners of the empire. I view network marketing as a quaint but failed experiment of the previous century. One major objection immediately is that too many people know exactly how much you make. Ask Charles Lindbergh if that was such a great idea. I’m not rich, but I am the only one who really knows what I make.
Nor am I fond of the way gold (meaning all precious metal) is sold. I could see a “bar charge” for the customer who gets it new from the mint, but not every time it changes hands. And if there is any difference between Australian gold and South African gold, I’d like to know. I traded only in small bullion over a period of ten or fifteen years, always breaking even in the long run. My economic cycle seemed to be the same as gold, when I had surplus cash to buy, the price was up, when I needed cash, the opposite. I believe gold is still a good investment, but not gold stocks or gold certificates. Soon, I may be able to reverse that cycle.
I’ve begun a new book, “Victoria’s Wars”. It covers the military campaigns during the reign of said Queen. This is not deep reading, for it over-details themes like who was the third cousin of the Baron Lord Viscount of Knucklehead. It is mesmerizing how America has been pursuing financially what Britain did with their empire, and we are well into the parallel period of decline. The book rightfully notes as the Empire “collapsed”, it increased in area from two to nine million square miles.
Sunday also means a real estate review. The average house price in Broward is down to $141,000 and condos to $109,000. That thin statistic is based on asking prices and ignores the fact that nothing is moving. Last month alone, prices fell 10%. Roughly 40% of all sales were underwater (sold at a loss). Tens of thousands of repossessed houses in Broward being kept off the market by fearful banks.
Nor can I find the usual report of how many houses traded hands, possibly it is too embarrassing to publish? My prophecy of 1996, recall, says the meltdown begins in February 2011. Then watch the big shots start to tumble as 10,000 people a day start retiring. I do believe I’ve become a fan of deflation. I cannot wait to laugh at those who have used credit to live beyond their means. You know who you are.
[Author's note 2016-10-10: I was only partially right. The market did not quite collapse, but I did get this place down to $18,000. So essentially, Wallace got a place in Florida for the least possible price that will ever be paid in any of our lifetimes. But even that, it turns out, was not good enough. I did all the work, all the research, and told him in advance that the place would need some handyman grade repairs. Instead, he decides it is his southern estate and I'm the squatter to whom he owes nothing. What a chump!]
