Monday
I must say, I had no idea the Phantom Daytrading Syndicate looked so threatening. True, Yogi - in his fez and ponytail - bears a passing resemblance to Bin Liner, Doomsday's goatee is admittedly confronting, and I've always thought that FastCash's dreadlocks could do with a wash. But a haircut does not an Islamo-fascist make, I always say.
Take the bouffant. Has LAX ever strip-searched anyone in a bouffant? No. Why? Because the bouffant is an all-American style icon. Most Americans west of Death Valley and East of St Louis sport a bouffant, now and then. It's like a Stetson or a pair of Bogarts - timeless. Nobody dares strip search a man in a bouffant.
Speaking of which, Byron Dawn, our leisure industries analyst, boasts a new retro-mullet. He sailed through US customs, where the fashion has caught on: every customs officer, including the ladies, offered new retro-mullets.
We were in America to monitor the Obama sensation and its impact on the stockmarket. Were share markets in for a long slide into U-shaped obscurity? Could Barack administer emergency surgery to the US economy? These were the questions that vexed us as we sat down on Venice Beach and busked.
Tuesday
Of course, we would prefer to make money on the stockmarket rather than busking. But it's not always possible.
Later we flew to New York, and Wall Street, to watch the Obama phenomenon. As Barack won state after state, the markets firmed. Then, when he was announced the next president, the markets fell. Not a great Obama effect.
Wednesday
It was a dismal sight, with despair on the faces of the Midwest good ol' boys, who had already started clamouring for blood. Someone was to blame, the Rednecks said. They were nice Rednecks in the main, but among them were a few who would glass your grannie to get into a KKK Tupperware party.
These disturbed individuals shared certain features: the cretinous gaze, the docile gait, the violent apathy in the eyes, the sudden resort to violence - all seemed redolent of an America that long ago fell onto the set of Deliverance.
Yogi made the mistake of asking some about their super. "How's your super?" he said.
They glared back at the fez-hatted Yogi, with deep distrust.
"Super? Pension? Waddya call it in America?" Yogi pressed.
This didn't clarify matters. The Rednecks growled something about 401ks and left.
Thursday
Indeed, this morning we saw several NINJAs - no income, no jobs - approach, muttering profanities about Obama's success. To escape their eye I sat down and read my book Quails Of Southern Ossetia, by Larson P. Whipsnade.
"What's that?" suddenly came a loud Midwest accent.
I looked up: there were three of them, all with the savage baldness of the unhooded KKK recruit. "What's what?" I replied.
"Yeah, what's what?" echoed Yogi, on whom I levelled a beseeching glance.
"That!" Now the three pointed - at my book.
"Oh this? This … well, this is what they call a book. See. It's made of paper and has writing on the pages, which tells a story."
"And what're you doin'?"
"Me? I'm - er - well, I guess I'm reading. This is what we do with books. We read them. I hope I'm being of use?"
Friday
"Warren Buffett," Carnegie writes, "never called a bottom to the bear market. Ever since he has been writing about investing he has told people you cannot do that and that you would go broke trying.
"What he said was that from a position 12 months ago, where his own personal fortune was 100 per cent invested in US government bonds, he will [change that] to being 100 per cent invested in US equities sometime soon. He is doing that because, over the long term, well-bought equities of strong companies are a far better investment than cash."
Well, we took our hats off to that - and hunted around for a huge splurge on US equities.
