I no longer believe what the news tells me about the stock market.
Day One: Stocks fall. Reports come in that fears of Greek indebtedness are shaking the market.
Day Two: Stocks soar. Reports come in that strong auto sales and the fact that the Greek bailout won’t be as bad floats all boats.
Day Three: Stocks crumble again precipitously because auto sales aren’t as high as expected and somebody in Greece ate some bad feta cheese.
Honestly, I think they’ve got some kind of wheel or dartboard on which they pick a random target for when the news is good or when the news is bad. If, during the same week, the target comes up the same on a good or a bad day, they come up with nuances that explain away yesterday’s losses or yesterday’s gains, using the same object of adoration or hatred.
But I follow the market. I have to. We’ve got some investments that are doing quite good one day, terribly the next. This is our retirement. Our fat to live off once I’m too old and enfeebled to work.
Our investments now sit at about half of the value they had three years ago. We might have finally hit triple digits on our investments had the Great Recession not struck. But no more. And every time the stock market goes down, I think, well, good thing I’m not going to retire for another thirty years.
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