Yup, that’s my advice – at least for the time being. If you got ‘em, the time may have come for you to smoke ‘em. I’ll elaborate shortly, but first, a little historical context in order. The origins of the phrase reach back to WWII, as a middle 20th century variation on the command: “At Ease”. During those infrequent intervals when our boys were not forced to contend with the likes of the German, Japanese (and once in a blue moon) Italian armies, their field commanders would suggest that they kick back by issuing the following order:
“Smoke ‘em if you got ‘em”.
Approximately a generation later, the progeny of the Greatest Generation inverted the phrase into the form I have selected for our title, and it took on an entirely different meaning. Suffice to say it was embraced enthusiastically by Baby Boomers as an anthem of sorts. For a time at any rate, they always had them, and, having, they smoked them.
Fast forward to more recent times. In the high flying world where I roll, a Smoke is now vernacular for a Private Jet – perhaps the most unambiguous symbol of elevated status that exists today. If you’ve really hit the big time, you fly your Smoke to places like Davos to discuss global warming. But even one level down, where you mostly use your Smoke to fly you between your bi-coastal residences, and (if the spirit moves) to the Super Bowl, you have scant cause for complaint.
But I do. Have cause for complaint, that is. Because though it pains me to admit it, I do not, at the present time, nor have I ever, owned my own Smoke. And given that the season of atonement is upon us, I may as well disclose that while I’ve ridden on a few Smokes, I’ve never even had routine access to one.
Neither, apparently, had (now former) Health and Human Services Secretary Tom Price. Until recently, that is. As a stone cold member of the Trump Cabinet, he managed to rack up about a million bucks of travel charges – in less than six months – using transports known among us players as Government Smokes: Smokes that are owned by taxpayers and funded by their dollars. Thus, whatever else one wishes to say about Flying Tom, one cannot accuse him of having ‘em but not smoking ‘em.
It should be noted, however, that Flying Tom was not the first government official to roll like this. Among those that blazed the aeronautical trail before him, at least according to published reports, are Former Attorney General Eric Holder, and current Special Counsel Robert Mueller. Presumably, though, even they weren’t the first to smoke on the pubic pipe. Here, I’m thinking Smoking Joe Biden (who never seems to have two nickels to rub together) and maybe even former Chairman of the Federal Reserve Board William McChesney Martin. Moreover, though they didn’t have Smokes back in his time, one can envision that if they did, T.R.’s Secretary of State Elihu Root might’ve been a likely candidate for this type of flying, five-finger discount.
As for Secretary Price, though, once caught with his fingers in the gravity defying cookie jar, he not only quickly owned up to his sins, but has tried to make amends – by reimbursing the government an amount equivalent to the cost of a single seat on a commercial. But it wasn’t enough. Trump bailed on him in lightening quick fashion, and, by Friday, he was gonzo. The post of HHS Secretary remains open at the point of publication of this column.
I tend to agree with the pundits who have suggested that the President might’ve done more to stand by his man across this episode, but I do find some irony in Mr. Price’s having flown too far on the public dime, using the world’s most elite form of transportation, and then being thrown by the President under the most proletarian of travel modes – the proverbial bus.
But I’m not sure anyone should be laughing here – particularly the members of, and those sympathetic to, the current administration, which just experienced one of the worst weeks in its short history. Big Don backed the wrong horse in the Alabama Republican Senatorial Primary, who may have been better off had the big fella not thrown support his way. In annoyingly trademark fashion, he has waged an unwinnable battle with the players in the NFL, in the process distracting from the entertainment value of what I believe to be the world’s leading form of commercial amusement, and confusing everyone about: a) what the issues are; and b) who’s on which side of the argument. Not content with this, he entered into an even more futile cat fight with the Mayor of storm-savaged San Juan.
He released details of a tax reform plan that must travelled a tortured path indeed if it ever is to be enacted, and, at best, is likely to look entirely different when (if) it comes to his desk for signature. And if it fails, it may seal the status of 115th Congressional session over which he presides (and in which his party holds majorities) as one of the ineptest in history. The 116th may look bear very little resemblance to its predecessor.
The week also brought the latest breakdown in what the mainstream press repeatedly calls the “last gasp” of ObamaCare repeal efforts. And just as this defeat became manifest, he forced out of office the Secretary of the Department that is tasked with the execution of the laws that oversee the concept.
But not much if any of this, appeared to trouble the investor class, which managed to bid up domestic and global stocks to yet another record, in the process closing them at their dead highs – all at the end of the 8,637th consecutive quarter of gains. Meanwhile, the VIX closed at a record low of 9.59, but that hasn’t stopped investors from piling in on the short side of this trade, as short interest for VIX futures continues to set daily records. It perhaps bears further mention that this incremental crushing of index volatility is transpiring at a point in the calendar that typically generates the greatest amount of price dispersion.
Like I say, if you got ‘em, smoke ‘em.
Most other asset classes are showing more bi-directional volatility. The USD has gotten off the schneid a bit, and bonds are selling off across the globe. The bubbling crude had a big week, and the confluence of activity across rates, FX and commodities suggests that somebody out there is expecting some sort of action.
With respect to these and other imponderables, I hasten to remind you that the fascinating year of 2017 is now 3/4ths over (a pessimist might describe it as 1/4th incomplete), but that what type of year it actually turns out to be may well be determined over the next month and a half. Next week is data-light until Friday, when the September Jobs report drops. By all indication, the BLS will be given a statistical mulligan, as last month’s unfortunate storm sequence is expected to dilute the outcome. Shortly thereafter, the earnings reporting cycle begins, and for the first time in a dog’s age, the bar is actually pretty high.
On balance, I continue to like ‘em here. Equities, that is. Maybe Bonds too. I simply believe that the current upward trend will continue until it is impelled by outside forces to reverse course, and I don’t see these forces gathering anywhere – at least for now. Yes, they’re out there, but until we can see the whites of their eyes, well, you know.
In addition to the foregoing, as Q4 unfolds, we’ll bear witness to incremental Washingtonian statesmanship, further developments in the Mueller investigation, perhaps some shenanigans from Pyongyang, and, if we’re lucky, maybe an extension of the fabulous Hillary Clinton “I take full responsibility but everyone else is to blame” Book Tour.
All of this (particularly the last item) indeed makes me want to smoke one, but the plain truth is that I haven’t got one to smoke. Hopefully you do, and if so, I reiterate my belief that now’s the time. If the spirit moves and you get in touch, perhaps I’ll join you. But one way or another, I encourage you NOT to let the opportunity pass you by. It could be quite a spell before another one comes your way.
TIMSHEL