DAYTRADING: The Highs and the Woes 11//25/00
Suzy and I had a heckuva fight last night. "I don't want to go see doc Kronkite tomorrow" I said hotly.
"Oh?" she said softly. "And why is that?"
"Because he's not helping me to trade better, that's why. I'm not going and that's final!" I snapped.
"If you want to make nick-nick with me tonight you'll go" she said.
Damn, she was good.
On the way to my weekly session with my shrink, the patient but never patronizing (and former Maytag repairman) Doc Kronkite, I thought back to the day I first met Kronkite. We were both kids.
Kronkite came into this world with a front row box seat directly behind the 8-ball. When he was seven he looked an awful lot like Barney Fife. By the time he was twelve he looked just like Barney Fife. On a good day he dressed like Martin Short. On a bad day he dressed like Steve Erkel. He was blessed with a voluminous vocabulary but was cursed with a propensity toward malapropisms: "I was hypnotized by the distinguished critic with the buttercup banter" would be mangled by Kronkite into, "I was kryptonized by the extinguished cricket with the cutterbup panther." He was teased unmercifully by his chums.
But from adversity often springs opportunity. At the circus, Kronkite's father was in the wrong place when an elephant decided to sit down. Young Kronkite's emotional pain and suffering was worth seven million said the judge. Later, Kronkite decided he'd become a shrink, set up practice and trade stocks as a hobby. I was his first patient.
Today I walked into his office and slouched down on his lumpy couch.
"So bubeleh, how was your week trading?" he asked.
"I don't wanna talk about it doc" I pouted.
"Mmmm. A bad week you had maybe?"
"Bad? Bad?" I cried. "It was worse than bad doc. It was awful. Worst week I've had all year. You gotta help me doc. I can't sleep, not a wink. And when I do, I dream about the market, always the market. A nightmare is what it is doc. My longs keep going down and my shorts keep riding up. Very uncomfortable. And my sex life with Suzy? Don't ask doc."
"Mmmm. Maybe it's time for some more free-association" he said.
"No doc, no more free-association. It costs too much" I pleaded.
"Trust me on this. I'm a specialist you know. I devoted an entire chapter to traders and free-association in my best-seller "The Truss: Friend or Foe" chapter 47. You could look it up."
"OK doc, I trust you."
"Good. Now I'll say a word and you say the first thing that pops into that cuckoo head of yours. AMAZON!" he shouted.
"Short" I replied.
"Cover" he snapped.
"Lover" I responded.
"No, no. I mean you should cover your AMAZON short. I did an entire chapter on AMAZON in my best-seller "Chronic-Droolers and Village Idiots" chapter 249. You didn't read it?"
“Guess I missed that chapter doc. Can we please continue with the free-association. You said it would cure me."
"Sure bubeleh, sure. Hold your forces. I can see that you're a bucket of neuroses. Ok, foundry"
"I don't wanna talk about that one doc. FDRY was around 57 so I waited for the pullback and bought 500 shares at 55. It closed at 48. It's killing me doc.”
"Sell it" he said. "Take the loss, suffer the pain."
"But doc, I can't sell it. It's down too far."
"Mmmm. Let's continue. IDIOT."
"Pity it." I snapped.
"I say IDIOT and you say pity it?" What means pity it? Wherefrom comes pity it? he asked.
“Rhymes with idiot doc: idiot, pity it. Get it?”
“You think maybe I’m running a poultry class here? (He meant poetry class). Do I look like Robert Frosty? No rhymes! Ok. Coffee?
“Columbian” I said, getting back into it.
“No idiot, do you want some coffee?”
“Doc, please don’t call me an idiot. After the trading week I just had my ego’s kinda fragile.”
“Ok. Crisis” he said.
“Schmisis” I hollered.
“Again with the poultry” he screamed, throwing a pencil at me.
I pulled the Eberhard-Faber #3 out of my arm.
“Trader” he said.
“Schmader” I shot back. “Sorry doc, it just came out. You wanted free-association right?”
“Enough with the free-association. A better idea I have. I want you to stay, listen in to my next session with a Very Successful Trader. Maybe you’ll learn something.”
“Who is it doc?” I asked.
“Can’t say. It’ll violate my canyon of ethics. I believe in doctor-patient confabularity you know.”
“Sure doc, I understand.” I said sadly.
“Another idea I just got. Go stand in the corner. Over there behind that plant. Scrunch down real low, keep your eyes closed, your ears open. Listen hard and learn how a real trader trades. This will cure your insomnia, your bad dreams and your terrible sex life.”
“Thanks doc. You’re a genius.”
Lee Kramer
copyright 11/.2 00
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