Monday
This weekend we convened an Emergency Investment Summit to discuss the meltdown. The meeting went all day.
Top of the agenda were American banks, and whether the American taxpayer should rescue them or not.
To a man, we decided, on balance, not. The banks should be allowed to fail, just as all our no-doc and subprime friends were allowed to fail. Just as any failing person is allowed to fail.
"This is the nature of capitalism," reasoned Doomsday, our bear market analyst. "It's called creative destruction," he added, quoting the great Joseph Schumpeter, one of our guiding lights.
Tuesday
"But what if they fail and they take everyone's cash with them?" wondered FastCash, our head of research. "Remember the Great Depression? Five thousand banks failed in three years. Everyone lost everything. Will we see a run on the banks?"
We pondered this question. Then Yogi, our senior chartist, piped up: "Yes. We will. But before we withdraw all our savings, I'd like to propose a motion."
This was disturbing. No one had proposed, or seconded a motion in 10 years of the Phantom Day Traders' Syndicate's existence.
"It seems clear to any reasonable person that all American banking executives should be rounded up, stripped, flogged, dressed in rawhides and string singlets, and sent to live in a repossessed trailer park in Needles, Arizona."
There were nods of assent. It seemed a light and fair punishment, really.
"So. The motion I'd like to propose is this: 'We, the Phantom Day Trading Syndicate of Sydney, Australia, hereby request that all senior American banking executives be evicted from their Manhattan lofts and herded into subprime accommodation in one of the following states: Kentucky, Ohio, Texas, Arizona, New Mexico, Nevada and Utah. On arrival they should be interred in their designated trailer, sold a subprime loan, given a banjo and bowie knife, and forced to sing Yankee Doodle and whittle down a redwood branch for the term of their natural lives."
"Are there any seconders?" I asked. Byron Dawn, our leisure industries analyst, seconded the motion. Byron can be relied upon to do such things. He has always been second in life.
"Motion carried."
Wednesday
It was stock-picking time. Every week we have stock-picking time. It is the moment we pick stocks.
"And look how well we did last week on the banking boom!" yelled FastCash.
There were many suggestions:
"Fortescue! Buy Fortescue!" someone yelled.
"No, no - Macquarie! It's a great little buy. It can't get any worse. It's a bargain!" yelled another.
We decided to buy Macquarie. It was time to cash in on the wreckage.
Thursday
This morning we rose at dawn to withdraw all our savings. The run on the world's banks is just a few weeks away and we didn't want to get caught napping. When there's a run on something, you gotta be amongst the gazelles, not the hippos.
At 5am the queues were forming outside my local branch. They extended down the street. The faces on the people seemed wan and hungry, redolent of one depression too many.
I couldn't help noting that we were shareholders in the very bank we were about to make a run on.
Meanwhile, Dubya has called emergency talks in Washington to save the American economy. The future of the global economic system is at risk, no less. Hank Paulson and Ben Bernanke presented a donkey of an idea - a $US700 billion rescue package, equivalent to $US5821.10 for every American - the lion's share of which would tumble into the pockets of banking executives, the very people who inflicted this abomination on the world.
Warren Buffett did the right thing and bought more shares in Goldman Sachs.
"We're all doomed," said Doomsday, rather unhelpfully.
Friday
Percy Lehman, 90, lies prostrate on a drip in the Stanmore Retirement Village, "awaiting instructions", as he told us today. He is the last surviving Lehman Brother, and lives in self-imposed exile.
"I reckon this is the meltdown we had to have," he said. "Citicorp would probably collapse, followed by GM and JPMorgan," he added. "They're technically insolvent." He spoke through a tube.
It's all part of the new Socialist Paradise of the United States of America, where the banks are being nationalised and the Teamsters are in charge. Ben Bernanke has been led snarling to his trailer park, allocated a banjo and a whittling knife, and told to get on with it.
