Wednesday, February 20, 2008

I wouldn't give a bucket of warm spit for my chances now

When, in a moment of terror, I sold all my GOOG, there was revealed in my soul a vein of self-destructiveness so hidden that I didn't know it was there. Some loathsome will to fail, masquerading as its opposite - the will to preserve one's silly self.

There was providence in it, I realized, as soon as I did it. The action in the stock, both before and after, seemed to turn on my deed. I knew immediately that I had established, then and for all time, a floor under GOOG, below which it will not go again. I didn't know I had that power.

But I do. Yesterday, I allowed myself to doubt that incontrovertible fact when GOOG whooshed down 20 points, and, today, when it kept dropping and briefly took hold of a four-handle before scooting back over 500. The technical boys all drew a line on their charts, right through my bleeding sale.

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