I can feel the teardrops, the pain, and the sorrow
Ever since you’ve been gone, they’ been comin’ on strong.
Little David Wilkins
Answer me this: what is it about The Hague that renders it the epicenter of all human thought and endeavor? It seems that nothing of import, nothing of worth which transcends time and space, that does not either originate there or pass through this divine Dutch port.
Is it its proximity to Rotterdam/adjacency to the North Sea?
I suspect that this may play a role, but perhaps not an essential one. London, after all, is a mere 500 kilometers away. Brussels is < 200 km but of course is landlocked.
I have a friend who was born there but went to high school in Racine. He married a girl from the latter-named Wisconsin metropolis, and they recently moved from West L.A to somewhere in South Florida.
All of which, if nothing else, goes to prove to even the most skeptical among you that reach of The Hague, if not, perhaps infinite, is, at any rate, global.
It is also the home city of Dutch King Willem-Alexander and his fetching bride, Queen Maxima, the latter being > 35 years His Royal Majesty’s junior:
The Royal Couple:
The Hague is, in addition, where the venerable (if oxymoronic) Court of International Justice resides. That Palace of Jurisprudence has recently made headlines by declaring failure to fight Climate Change a criminal offense. It indicted Benjamin Netanyahu for War Crimes. It is, in general a rather humorless, if toothless jurisdiction. Nobody ever seems to stand trial there, but if anyone ever did, they might not have all that pleasant a time of it.
But of course, all this is merely sideshow to the city’s main claim to fame: that of being the hometown to the fabulous Golden Earring. To whom we must pay tribute in consideration of the death of its front man – George Kooymans, who left us last week from a town across the border in Belgium, at age 77. His demise was of course subsumed in a news stream more inclined to feature the passage of Ozzy, Theo, Hulk and even Connie Francis. But the righteous among us know which forfeited treasure is to be most lamented.
I am pleased, at least, that GK lasted long enough to bask in the glory of this author’s having redesignated his signature hit to the top of the list of the Top 10 Songs to Trade to (20th Anniversary Edition).
So, we revert, as always, to “Radar Love”. The song about a telepathic connection between a roadster and his lady fair. Though it never occurred to me, the interwebs are single-minded in the notion that the lyrical sequence ends with a fatal crash, which (natch) fails to destroy the cosmic romantic connection.
I’m not so sure the dude dies in the end, but no matter. Let’s instead transfer our attention to the tributes therein paid to “Coming on Strong”. Full attribution is given to Brenda Lee (with nary a mention of the song’s composer Little David Wilkins), who went on to even greater heights with her version of “Rockin’ Around the Christmas Tree” – a song that instead of being forgotten, refuses to die.
Not gonna lie: it gives me the squicks. And it ain’t Christmas. Not even if it is still July.
Meantime, Comin’ on Strong could be considered as appropriate an anthem for the risk asset market as any that recalls to mind. Because they are on something of a tear. All-time highs everywhere one meets the eye. What a difference a quarter makes. Three months ago, the Gallant 500 was in full retreat and Vixen Vix was on a hellcat rampage:
All is much cheerier now, and why not? It’s been a risky year, policy-wise, but this far everything – trade negotiations, fiscal considerations, geopolitics – has broken favorably for investors. They’ve responded by buying in an orderly, gentlemanly/ladylike fashion.
Thus far in the cycle, there is some debate about the quality of Earnings. A first glance suggests that they’ve been Comin on Strong. But FactSet is whining about the tepid nature of upside surprises and some other stuff that few of us understand.
One way or another, the technicals of the market are virtually indestructible, as, for many years, any time valuations retreat to certain support levels, they come bounding back impressively:
This here chart is hard to argue with. As long as the wheels keep turning, your gonna wanna buy the dips.
Unfortunately, however, dip-buying based on 200-week logarithmic Moving Averages doth not a sustainable investment strategy make.
Nope, we gotta trade through it. And the action remains worthy of our full attention. This week ought to be particularly pregnant — with the first glimpse of Q2 GDP, the FOMC announcement, and, by Friday, the July Jobs Report.
FWIW, I will go with the consensus in projecting a “hold steady” Fed meeting. However, I have a hunch – particularly given the recently observed lovey dovey cross-town rhetoric, that Trump and Powell have cut a deal that portends at least nominal reductions in September.
We’re also in the full-throated portion of the earnings season, with 3/7ths of the companies about which we care taking their turns at the podium this week.
I kinda think we’ll still be Comin on Strong when all this dust settles. Because we – you, me, Brenda Lee, Little David Wilkins, George Kooymans, The Global Capital Economy, and, indeed, All God’s Children, got a thing that’s called Radar Love. And it trumps nearly every ion of buzzkill out there in the nearby and Great Beyond.
Mostly You. And. Me. Stuck in Radar Love. But with our more authentic journey just around the corner.
But today, The Hague is draped in black. The King and Queen are in full mourning regalia. I do not know what either Little David or Brenda (both of whom are still blessedly with us) are up to, but I imagine they feel it – perhaps more than anyone else.
And somewhere in this world, that gnarly, sublime GK guitar riff is blasting away.
But now it’s half past four and I’m shifting gear, and in doing so, will bid you, yet again, a pleasant ride.
TIMSHEL