I get letters from readers concerned about my language. For example, one nice person wrote in to say:
Hi, Sean, love your writing style and focused analysis. Am a subscriber of the Supercycle Investor and Wealth Supercycle.
Recommend a couple of changes to reflect the more enlightened times we are in. Instead of “leprosy” (suffering is not of their fault), how about “gonorrhea” (suffering caused by one’s choices) — for the same effect?
Also, you previously used the phrase “Wham! Bam! Thank You! Ma’am.” That didn’t sit well with the ladies in my family. Suggest you have ladies proofread your articles — as they are very perceptive to improper analogies. It works well for me.
I’m always glad to get reader mail. I don’t want to embarrass you. Indeed, I’d like to make you happy. But you should know, I’m 58. The chances of changing anything about me now are very slim. Or as I’ve called it before, “a snowball’s chance in a Texas barbecue.” You can ask President Trump. It’s hard for us old dinosaurs to change our ways. And I stomp around the English language in T-Rex sized boots.
This style of language is sometimes called “politically incorrect.” In other words, not restraining your words if they offend or upset other people in society. Because in America today, it’s easy to trip over somebody’s attitudes toward sex, race or disability. Especially when the goalposts move all the time.
I don’t call it being “politically incorrect.” I call it “being an old grump with a wicked sense of humor.” Perhaps we could compromise on “embarrassing.” Heaven knows, it is the bane of my long-suffering wife and children.
Also, know that all my professional writing is edited by a lady. Her name is Dawn, aka “The Goddess.” Because she holds ultimate power. She is an excellent editor, and her efforts often go unheralded. You’ll be happy to know that when I write something that makes her wince too much, she takes it out. So imagine what my writing would look like if not for the efforts of the Goddess. It might curl your hair!
Now, let’s talk specifically about my use of the word leprosy. I’m sure you’re referring to a phrase I’ve used more than once: “The U.S. dollar is winning a beauty contest in a leper colony.” In other words, it is the “least unattractive” currency.
Now, how could I substitute “gonorrhea” for leprosy in that one? Maybe I could say, “The U.S. dollar has the least gonorrhea of the major currencies, but its dingle-dangle-dongle is going to fall off eventually.” That loses its punch a bit.
As for “Wham! Bam! Thank You, Ma’am!,” I’m sure you recognize that as a callout to the song “Suffragette City,” by the immortal David Bowie.
Oh, sure, Mr. Bowie says he’s dead. But he’s not fooling me.
You can interpret the song many ways. But to me, it’s a song about personal confusion and trying to resist the lure of the inevitable. And finances are involved. (“You can’t afford the ticket.”)
That particular article was about how confused the market is, and how lithium’s next big rally is inevitable. When that rally is in the rear-view mirror, there will be many indeed who “can’t afford the ticket.” When they could have bought it for pennies today.
That’s what was rambling around in my labyrinth brain when I wrote the article. And on any given day, my brain is chockablock with odd bits of song, history (recent and ancient), meditations on cheese, board games, books, science fiction, travel and more. Whenever I drag something through the labyrinth, the oddest of dust bunnies attach themselves.
My point is that when I write something like: “the major averages are bleeding red like a hemophiliac convention held in a razor-blade factory,” believe me, I have nothing against people with hemophilia. I’m not trying to offend anyone. It’s just that’s the best metaphor I could think of at the time.
I appreciate you reading my writing and analysis. While some things might offend you, I hope you keep reading. After all, this market is very tricky. It shifts from week to week, sometimes from day to day.
In short, the market gives us more wrong signals than a drive-through traffic school. And if you try and navigate it on your own, you could end up with enough egg on your face to open an all-you-can-eat breakfast buffet.
I want you to do well. Stick around. I’ll try not to embarrass you too much.
All the best,