Gollee Concoda, what a great glimpse behind the Wizard's curtain!

For twelve years now,I've been reading about this hot-air market, blown up like a balloon, swirling between the Fed's ponzi scheme and those other major central banks as they swish their magical wands to cast pixie dust over well-connected players and crafty financial dealers in the Big game.

David Stockman, Pres. Reagan's first budget director, has been calling the stock exchange "the casino" since the big blowup in '08.

It seems now that real money is meaningless--almost, you might say--non-existent. What really makes the liquidity maelstrom spin is trillions of electrons swirling in cyberspace; those electrons represent mythical debits and credits in a fairytale castle indwelt by well-connected lords of the rings--the circuitous rings that spin round and round and where they stop nobody knows, until. . . a pandemic black swan spreads its wings and darkens the pathways of Main Street, Joe Blow, Jane Doe and Jack Spratt, who now can find no fat to eat while his partner can find no lean, and little players are tempted to get mean.

Then the whole clustermuck changes drastically, but not in a way that we can appreciate, or even predict.

Best advice: find an open spot of ground and plant a garden.