DAYTRADING: The Highs and the Woes 8/18/01
I was eager, eager to get to doc Kronkite's office this morning. The doc is my shrink and he's been treating me for nigh onto a decade. He treats day-traders exclusively now. He calls himself the King of all Shrinkdom, since he cut out a nice little niche for himself and thinks he's like a sheep-dog who tenderly but carefully tends his flock. He is the only shrink who treats day-traders in these continguous forty-eight states. He writes about day-traders, he's in great demand on the lecture circuit, he's a regular on Larry King. Other shirnks, fed up and not knowing what to do with day-traders and their uniquely crazy problems, regularly refer to him.
The doc is getting famous. In case you haven't seen him he looks an awful lot like Mel Brooks, wild hair and all.
He's got a couple of drawbacks, but then who hasn't. When excited, his voice rises to a high-pitched whine and he sounds an awful lot like Barney Fife. And he's a major-league malapropist, an all all-star MVP og language manglers. And he has a slight quirk; when you say something in therapy that he doesn't like he whips a newly sharpened Eberhard Faber #3 pencil at you. His accuracy is legend, and as you wince in pain while you pry the Eberard #3 from your arm he assures you it's simply part of his therapeutic method.
But he's a specialist. And, I must report in all honesty, he is solely responsible for turning me into a decent day-trader.
And he's got a great looking receptionist, Miss Thelma Tushbumper; his girl Friday and the object of my occasional nocturnal fantasies.
As I bounced into his reception room this morning and planted a wet one on Miss Tushbumper's milky white cheek and hugged her hard, feeling her cantaloupes press against me (this is our little ritual, something she allows with bon homie) my balloon was quickly deflated when Miss Tushbumper informed me that it was almost time for my session.
Miss Tushbumper, seeing my obvious distress, pulled me tightly again to her cantaloupes. This helped. a lot.
But the buzzer sounded and Miss Tushbumper pried my arms from her curvacious body and said, "Doctor will see you now."
I slouched into the doc's office. He was sitting behind his massive oak-desk sharpening his Eberhard "3's.
"Assume the position!" he bellowed and I eased my weary body onto his lumpy leather couch.
"Tell me about your week daytrading, leave nothing out," he demanded.
"Gee doc, do I have to?"I cried.
I heard the whizz, then pulled the Eberhard #3 out of my bicep.
Silence. Another shrink ploy. He'd wait me out, so I spoke.
"Well doc. I had a great week. They were up Monday and I bought some STAPLES at 15 1/4 and kicked it out the same day at 15 7/8. Then I shorted QUALCOM at 66 1/2 and covered at 65. Bought 500 CVH at 22.90 and kicked it out at 23 1/4. I made five more trades, all profitable. Pretty good, huh doc?"
"Mmm" he mumbled.
"Then on Tuesday I really got hot. I picked up 1,000 shares of ATAC at 11 and kicked 'em out at 11.40. Shorted 200 shares of CCMP at 75, covered 'em at 73 1/4. Pretty good, huh doc?"
"Mmm. I suppose you continued your successes on Wednesday," the doc stated. I detected a bit of skepticism in his voice
"Actually doc, I made 10 trades on Wednesday, but ended up even. Went the wrong way three times on NVDA. Hey doc, it happens. NVDA is a tough stock to trade."
"Mmm."
"But Thursday doc, I was magnificent. They opened down hard, but after an hour and a half there was no follow through to the downside. That was the tell, and I spotted it like the pro I am. I loaded up on the QQQ's. I banged out profit after profit in PQE, NATI, MRVL and a few others. Made enough to pay for sessions with you for a whole year. and not only that, I knew they were gonna fly again on Friday, so I held 'em all overnight, something I never do, 'cause I'm always in cash by 4:00 every day when the market closes.
"Mmm. So tell me how much you made Friday," said the doc. I did not like the small smile that began to spread on his face.
"Friday? Gee doc, I can't seem to remember what happened on Friday."
I heard the whizz again and wrenched the Eberhard #3 out of my forearm.
"Yout don't remember Friday? A day ago and you don't remember?"
"Oh yeah, Friday. I don't wanna talk about Friday doc," I said.
"Mmm. You maybe took a few small losses on Friday?" the doc prompted.
"I got murdered doc. I was so sure, so cocky. I lost everything I made on Thursday. And Wednesday too."
"Mmm."
"Ok doc, and Tuesday and Monday as well. I am truly humbled and I vow never to let it happen again." I said.
"You are suffering from the' Make a few profitable trades and get cocky' syndrome. But it's good you came to me because I can cure you. Our time is up. See Miss Tushbumper on the way out. Make appoinments, lots appointments."
See Miss cantaloupe, er, Miss Tushbumper? I flew for the door, and heard the whizz then thethunk as an Eberhard #3 missed my ear and buried itself in the wall.
Lee Krame
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