In the world of the speculation newsletter nothing exists between apocalypse and salvation, and every day I face the choice between total impoverishment and immense riches (if, for example, I will only put my money into Mexican lithium mines, thus assuring a good life for my heirs and assigns forever, provided only that they are not themselves wastrels). 

Just as philatelic magazines assume that their readers are interested in, or even obsessed by, postage stamps, so my speculation newsletter assumes that its readers are glued to their computer screens, watching the movements of the market, prey from one minute to the next to gusts of euphoria or despair, and obsessed by the consequent movements in their net worth, that most infallible of the measures of a man, including his self-worth.

But I read my speculation newsletter as I might read Balzac, as a fictional depiction of the human comedy, of belief and credulity, of rationality and superstition, of greed and fear, of caution and imprudence, of dream and nightmare, of illusion and disillusion, of hope and despair. In the meantime, I buy antiquarian books on arcane subjects”€”a bad investment, to judge by the reading habits of the young, but at least they give me pleasure, albeit one that most people find odd.       

In the meantime, throw finance to the dogs; I”€™ll none of it. Come, put mine armor on … I will not be afraid of Dow and Jones / Till liquidation come to Vodafones.

 



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