Editor's Note: Bill Meehan is the chief market analyst for Cantor Fitzgerald, a New York-based institutional bond and equity trading firm. Bill's Day Before Christmas graced his Thursday morning news bulletin, and we pass it on to you in celebration of the holiday. Let Bill know what you think of his poem.
I thought I'd end the last of
bulletins of the 1990s with a bit of verse in honor of one of the best years ever for those who have ridden the ever-narrowing number of winners that have driven the indices. Rarely have so few stocks done so much for the major market measures, pushing them (particularly the
) to levels beyond the expectations of even the most optimistic new paradigm prognosticators.
It also seems appropriate to pay homage to the man who made it all possible -- the one who claims he can detect only the bubbles that are ever present in his celebrated tub. I beg forgiveness from
Clement C. Moore
-- may he rest in peace -- his ancestors and the purists who revel in Christmas tradition, as I bastardize a beloved holiday classic.
'Twas the day before Christmas
When all down the Street
Not a bear was a-stirring; they'd all fled in defeat.
The trade sheets were filled with the names held so dear
In hopes that St. Nicholas would remain ever so near.
Jogging moms and cab drivers were snug in their beds,
While visions of stock splits danced in their heads.
Andrea in her nightgown and Alan in his bubble bath
Had just awoken from a long winter's nap.
When out on the street there arose such a clatter,
The Great One wondered whatever could be the matter?
Quickly parting the only bubbles he was certain existed,
He grabbed a towel and donned his robe in a flash,
Tore open the shutters and threw up the sash,
And what he saw made him think, "Was I really too rash?"
The dawn's early light was almost obscured by a mountain of cash.
Not content any longer to wait 'til half-past nine,
A madding crowd had gathered, needing not one more sign.
No longer was anyone worried a bit,
Only an old fool wouldn't dance or fret even a whit.
Hedgies and PMs were trading with increasing rapidity,
Who could do otherwise when Easy Al adds liquidity?
Previous confusion about brains and a bull market had been resolved.
It was just the old paradigmers who weren't involved.
There's plenty of cash and scads of credit easily revolved.
Individual investors were as happy as can be,
The price to play had fallen to a minuscule fee.
"We'll retire rich," they all shouted with glee.
Even the folks overseas said, "I want more for me!"
They sent their pounds, marks, francs and lire,
Surely now, they concluded, it's really a New Era.
As Al pulled back the shutters wondering what he had wrought,
His bride winked and said, "Don't give it a second thought.
The judgment of millions has already been made.
They don't love you for nothing, your halo won't fade."
And as he packed up his briefcase, the one ever so thin,
He nodded in agreement, "I've no need for a pin."
Should things get nasty and the market goes astray,
He felt confidently sure he'd be there to save the day.
On the way to the door, with the anointed stocks in full flight,
He paused to shout out of the window,
"Happy Christmas to all, and to all I'll keep things right!"
On behalf of all of us at Cantor Fitzgerald, a happy holiday season and a healthy, profitable New Year.
Bill Meehan is the chief market analyst for Cantor Fitzgerald, a New York-based institutional bond and equity trading firm.