In Search of the Perfect Investment

Today, the first Friday of each month we get the most important economic statistic of the month for the stock market.

Today’s is good.

Reports the New York Times:

Normally, this positive news would encourage the market to move higher today.

But September is a hard month. … The worst of the year.

Please do not panic and sell. That’s the worst kind of selling. No reason for it. We’re doing just fine.

Don’t watch the ticker. Watch the tennis.

The men’s semi-finals begin this afternoon at 4 PM ET. The finals are Saturday and Sunday. It’s called Championship Weekend. I’m guessing they’ll be on ESPN.

Elon Musk is not having a good time. I’m glad we’re out of Tesla.

SEC warns on cannabis stocks.

From today’s BusinessInsider:

The SEC has a stern warning about soaring marijuana stocks. “If you are thinking about investing in a marijuana-related company, you should beware of the risks of investment fraud and market manipulation,” the US Securities and Exchange Commission said in a press release Thursday. “Fraudsters may try to use media coverage about the legalization of marijuana to promote an investment scam.”

How to retire early — real early!

The New York Times has a piece:

How to Retire in Your 30s With $1 Million in the Bank
Fed up with their high-pressure jobs, some millennials are quitting and embracing the FIRE movement. (It stands for financial independence, retire early).

It begins:

Carl Jensen experienced what he calls “the awakening” sometime around 2012.

He was a software engineer in a suburb of Denver, writing code for a medical device. The job was high-pressure: He had to document every step for the Food and Drug Administration, and a coding error could lead to harm or death for patients.

Mr. Jensen was making about $110,000 a year and had benefits, but the stress hardly seemed worth it. He couldn’t unwind with his family after work; he spent days huddled over the toilet. He lost 10 pounds.

After one especially brutal workday, Mr. Jensen Googled “How do I retire early?” and his eyes were opened. He talked to his wife and came up with a plan: They saved a sizable portion of their income over the next five years and drastically reduced expenses, until their net worth was around $1.2 million.

On Tuesday, March 10, 2017, Mr. Jensen called his boss and gave notice after 15 years at the company. He wasn’t quitting, exactly. He had retired. He was 43.

I found these three paragraphs especially interesting:

Last year, the couple left Southern California in search of a community that would give them more financial freedom, a journey Mr. Rieckens, formerly a creative director for a creative agency, is chronicling in a documentary, “Playing With FIRE.”

They ended up in Bend, Ore., where there’s no state sales tax and they could afford to buy a house. Gas for their used Honda CRV with 186,000 miles (they got rid of the BMW and downsized to one vehicle) is a dollar-per-gallon cheaper than in San Diego, although Mr. Rieckens often rides his bike around town.

“The whole retire early thing is unimportant to me. It’s more about gaining control of your time,” Mr. Rieckens said. “If you dive into the definition of retirement, what you’re retiring from is mandatory labor. It’s not necessarily about piña coladas on the beach.”

You can read the whole FIRE piece here. 

Favorite recent New Yorker cartoons

Harry Newton. Monday is Rosh Hashanah, Jewish New Year.  Here is my favorite Rosh Hashanah joke. It’s long. But you’ll love it:

The Talking Parrot

Meyer, a lonely widower, was walking home along Delancy Street one day wishing something wonderful would happen in his life, when he passed a pet store and heard a squawking voice shouting out in Yiddish,”Quawwwwk…vus machts du?”

Meyer rubbed his eyes and ears. Couldn’t believe it. Perfect Yiddish. (it translates: What are you doing? Also, How are you?)

The proprietor urged him, “Come in here, fella, and check out this parrot…”

Meyer did. An African Grey cocked his little head and said: “Vus? Kenst sprechen Yiddish?” (You can speak Yiddish?)

In a matter of moments, Meyer had placed five hundred dollars on the counter and carried the parrot in his cage away with him. All night he talked with the parrot in Yiddish. He told the parrot about his father’s adventures coming to America. About how beautiful his late wife, Sarah, was. About his family. About his years of working in the garment district. About Florida.

The parrot listened and commented.

They shared some walnuts.

The parrot told him of living in the pet store, how lonely he would get on the weekends. They both went to sleep.

Next morning, Meyer began to put on his tefillin, all the while saying his prayers. The parrot demanded to know what he was doing and when Meyer explained, the parrot wanted to do the same. Meyer went out and had a miniature set of teillin hand made for the parrot.

The parrot wanted to learn to daven and learned every prayer. He even wanted to learn to read Hebrew.

So Meyer spent weeks and months, sitting and teaching the parrot, teaching him Torah. In time, Meyer came to love the parrot as a friend and fellow Jew.

One morning, on Rosh Hashanah, Meyer rose and got dressed and was about to leave when the parrot demanded to go with him. Meyer explained that Shul was not a place for a bird, but the parrot made a terrific argument, so Meyer relented and carried the bird to Shul on his shoulder.

Needless to say, they made quite a spectacle, and Meyer was questioned by everyone, including the Rabbi and the Cantor. They refused to allow a bird into the building on the High Holy Days, but Meyer persuaded them to let him in this one time, swearing that the parrot could daven (pray). Wagers were made with Meyer.

Thousands of dollars were bet that the parrot could NOT daven, could not speak Yiddish or Hebrew.

All eyes were on the African Grey during services. The parrot perched on Meyer’s shoulder as one prayer and song passed – Meyer heard not a peep from the bird. He began to become annoyed, slapping at his shoulder and mumbling under his breath, “Daven!”

Nothing.

“Daven..parrot, you can daven, so daven…come on, everyone is looking at you!”

Nothing.

After Rosh Hashanah services were concluded, Meyer found that he owed his Shul buddies and the Rabbi four thousand dollars..

He marched home, so upset he said nothing to the parrot.

Finally several blocks from the Temple the Parrot began to sing an old Yiddish song, as happy as a lark.

Meyer stopped and looked at him.

“Why? After I had tefillin made for you and taught you the morning prayers, and taught you to read Hebrew and the Torah. And after you begged me to bring you to Shul on Rosh Hashanah, why? WHY?? Why did you do this to me?”

“Meyer, don’t be a schmuck,” the parrot replied.

“Think of the odds we’ll get on Yom Kippur!” (Ten days after Rosh Hashanah.)