Stocks Lack Direction as Jitters Remain

I'm not sure why Master P and I occasionally close down bars on Sunday nights. My thoughts are that it has something to do with the weakened US dollar, rising oil costs, and the crippled subprime mortgage market. In case you didn't notice, the market slid at the end of last week, marking its worst drop in five years. My portfolio definitely felt it, and here on Monday my head is aching and there's an odd pain that started near my zyphoid process and slid down to the middle of my stomach. It remains there, in the middle of my gut, throbbing sharply.

It was about 6:00 Sunday on Duffey's patio, already two large Fat Tires into the evening, when Tex stumbled out of the bar and spotted Master P and me. He approached our table carrying a Michelob and drawled, "Which one of you can I git a cig-a-rette from?" I handed him a cigarette and admired his attire. Tattered jeans, a faded hawaiian shirt (stained/unbuttoned), and a Dallas Cowboys hat (dirty). He had a wide, grey moustache. He sat down, not bothering to ask for an invitation, and within the first half hour he had bummed two cigarettes and slandered our president. He scratched his chest hair and said things like,

"Now that's how I knew he was smarter'n nine people. I tell you, I know he was smarter than nine people because he graduated Rice University. Now Rice University…that's like Em Eye Teee"

"Now when we were younger my grandaddy bought all us kids 1,000 shares of Texas Instruments. Now my brothers n sisters sold all theirs, but I kept mine. That's why my grandaddy left me a house and some land."

"My dog ain't gettin in that fight"

"Do you play guitar? I'm getting my guitar"

He looked like a cross between The Dude and The Cowboy from the Big Lebowski. He went home to get his guitar. He sang original songs and despised the music industry. He not only knew who Leo Kottke was, but he'd seen him in concert. By the end of the evening he was drinking Fat Tire and putting rounds of beer on his tab. Eventually a heated political debate brewed up involving the remaining six people (employees included) at the bar. It was fucking wacky.

If Tex hung onto Texas Instruments after his grandaddy passed and left him a house, 1,000 shares with a 2-1 stock split 5 times would be worth about 1.25 million dollars today, excluding dividends.

While pulling out of the driveway this morning I cranked the wheel of the minivan to get around Special K's car, which was parked directly behind me. Since it was the first time that I parked in the garage for the past few weeks, I forgot to consider the front of my minivan and its relationship to narrow opening in the garage. I quickly remembered why this is an important thing to pay attention to...after hearing my front left headlight/directional assembly snap off and fall to the ground. My van can now be described as

"A dented golden tan, splashed with an infusion of grey speed streaks with creative lighting".

After Tex left, a patron remarked,

"The scary thing is, Tex is a Rocket Scientist."

My brain hurts.