My friends the full-time financial bloggers are tweeting that they’re bored. Nothing is PLUMMETING, nary an IMPLOSION in sight.
The most read on item on preeminent Wall Street tabloid The Business Insider is literally a slideshow of Henry Blodget’s crotch on an airplane. 200,000 page views, do you motherfuckers even have jobs?
The celebrity bears, save for John Hussman, are mostly cowed or converted by now – Roubini’s global economic monitor has become a tech stock alerts product.
Today the market did not set a new all-time high and the Dow was somehow – gasp – lower on the day. No casualties were reported.
The black swans have had their feathers plucked out, the London Whale has been hoisted on the dock to be apportioned for lamp oil.
And all throughout the town there is peace. Earnings reports are coming out and moving the related equities to and fro, independent of the Euro-Yen, the Swiss Franc, the TED spread or the feckless Fed.
What did we do to have earned this period of relative tranquility? And how long may we enjoy it while knowing in the back of our minds that it is not rightfully ours? Yes, the can was kicked, but was it kicked out of the stadium? Above the upper decks and out into the parking lot?
And wither the mercurial Vix, cloistered away in her bedchambers like the Spanish Infanta in a childish sulk? Who ordained that she should take all of January off with so many unresolved matters of state to resolve? When, if ever, are we to be graced by the presence of the little Empress of Fear again?
Not long now, I suspect. But in the interim, why bemoan her absence and the general lack of discordance? Should not we simply enjoy the moment?
Is a lack of panic such a terrible thing? Must we become enablers of a desperate financial media that is utterly bereft of alarm bells to ring?
Why not cry non-havoc – and let loose the Dogs of Bore?