Something is happening, but you don’t know what it is, do you, Mr. Jones?

— Bob Dylan

This one goes out to Brian. Lewis Brian Hopkin Jones, now, as of this coming Wednesday, gone 50 years.

His is perhaps the original Rock and Roll tragedy. An impossibly handsome man who happened to be a multi-instrumental musical prodigy, he was the vision behind the Rolling Stones. He catapulted them to stardom, but then the band (mostly Mick and Keith) passed him by. On balance it was his own fault; he descended into a spiral of drug abuse that was noteworthy even at a time when such abuse was the norm rather than the exception.

The last couple of years of his life, he could barely even play. And, due to a confluence of health issues and myriad outstanding global warrants for his arrest, he certainly couldn’t tour. Saddest of all, the band, his band, simply didn’t need him anymore. And in early June of 1969, they gave him his walking papers.

Less than a month later, he was found floating, face down, in his own swimming pool. This was July 3rd: my mama’s 34th birthday. Two years later to the day (though no one can say for sure), Jim Morrison checked out. Both were 27 at the time of their demise, and both deaths remain shrouded in mystery.

A couple of years’ prior, Bob Dylan, on his Magnum Opus: “Blonde on Blonde” put out the song that we have purloined for our title, with the hook-line co-opted for our introductory quote. Though the debate rages, to me it unambiguously tells the tale of a man unwittingly walking into a gay party. Others have disagreed about this, but a check of the lyrics leaves little room for doubt. One way or another, pretty much everyone agrees that the Thin Man title character was none other than Brian Jones.

We’ve got a treasure trove of golden anniversaries this summer, and be forewarned that I intend to milk the important ones for all they are worth. July ‘69 was particularly eventful. 50 years ago tomorrow, on 7/1, Prince Charles officially became the Prince of Wales. 5 decades later, he holds the world record for time spent waiting for a promotion promised to him. Jones died on the 3rd. On the 5th, the Stones played a Hyde Park gig to about 1.5 million people, going through the motions of honoring their founder. On the 18th, MA Senator Ted Kennedy drove his side piece off a narrow bridge on Cape Cod, buggered off as fast as his feet allowed, and left her trapped in his car her to drown.

He went on, of course, to become the Lion of the Senate, and chose the “dream” of single-payer health care as the hill upon which to die. We’re not there yet, but the issue looms large. We will discuss it a little bit further along the way.

Teddy got bailed out of “media hell” by the reality that 3 days later, Apollo 11 astronaut Neil Armstrong became the first man to set foot on the moon. There’s a CNN (I know, yuck) documentary currently airing on this remarkable achievement. It’s mesmerizing, and if it doesn’t make (widespread progressive rhetoric notwithstanding) a person proud to be an American, well, then, I just don’t know what.

And that’s just July. A great deal happened in August as well, most notably for your scribe, the Woodstock Music and Arts Festival, held at Max Yasgur’s farm in Bethel, NY. Loyal readers should prepare themselves to be assaulted in this space with nostalgia about Woodstock.

And, as I bang this thing out, I note a palpable (if perverse) Woodstock vibe in the air.

We begin with Trump and Xi, who walked out of the Tokyo G20 summit like the two lovebirds on the cover of the Woodstock album:

Trump/Xi Bid G20 Farewell:

Market participants can and should be delighted with the short-term implications of the outcome. Hauwei is off the hook – for now. The PRC is fixin’ to buy (not die) American farm equipment. We don’t got a deal yet; perhaps we never will, but at least we’re not pointing ICBMs at one another. Then Trump met with L’il Kim in the DMZ. We’ll call that Woodstock II.

The teeming millions that comprise my readership should also take a warm fuzzy in the knowledge that the two kids to my left are still together, married, retired and living in Pine Bush, NY, not far from where the original love fest went down.

However, other currently observable Woodstockian motifs are perhaps less uplifting. But that’s OK; there was a passel of troubles back in ’69 as well. Here, most notably, I refer to the Dem Double Header Debate, which, due to the overwhelming quantity of eligible participants, unfolded over two separate nights in the week just ended. As was foretold by the Gods, the entire sequence devolved into a “stick it to the man” orgy of what, in more recent times, passes for Peace, Love and Understanding.

Over the course of the exercise, and according to widespread consensus, two women stood out among the crowd: Kamala Harris and Elizabeth Warren.

Ms. Warren is a Massachusetts Senator, as was the above-mentioned Ted Kennedy. If you’ve ever seen her, on television or something, you will note that she is remarkably thin. Thus, for the purposes of this note, I will choose to designate her The Thin Woman (or Thin Lizzie). This written ballad is for you, Liz.

Something is happening and you don’t know what it is, do you, Senator Warren? Well, allow me to clue you in. The global capital economy is resting on a razor’s edge, with only psychedelically cheap money (and its catalyzing drive to create scarcity of investible financial instruments) providing any sort of ballast. Global indebtedness is approximately 150% of its pre-crash levels. Economies are slowing. The Eurozone in particular is a hot mess, as is (as always) the Middle East. As was shown in stark nature just last Christmas, it wouldn’t take much to send even the American Economic Juggernaut into a tailspin.

At that time, I was convinced that our prospects would continue to worsen, and I’ve seldom been more wrong. But somehow, in January, the Central Banks stepped in and saved the day. The outcomes include an extension of economic expansion and a stock market that just completed its best first half of the year in several decades. There is about $15 Trillion of negative yielding government paper out there. France is again among its issuers. The Eurozone is now issuing 100 year bonds – at a rate of 1.17% — approximately half of the U.S. Fed Funds rate.

I could go on, but hopefully you feel me already. In the meantime, Senator Warren is channeling the Kennedy/Proxmire/McCarthy vibe of the 91st Congress, which, along with Richard Nixon, was sworn in in January of 1969. Arguably, this crew did all they could to ruin the entire decade of the ‘70s.

But Thin Lizzie, as she is fond of stating, persists. Single payer. Reparations. Wealth Tax. Green New Deal. Student Loan Debt Forgiveness. Free College Tuition. In addition to all of the mind-blowing righteousness of it all, we will enjoy the benefit of teaching those filthy capitalists the lessons they so richly deserve. You know to whom I’m referring. Those criminal enterprises that brought us heathen tools such as Air Conditioning, the Internal Combustion Engine, Spam, Viagra, the World Wide Web.

She has acknowledged that it will be expensive; perhaps, at the low end, a couple of hundred trillion, but what’s a couple of hundred tril when you are remaking the world for the better?

I will admit that I didn’t listen to much of this, or for that matter, what anyone else standing at those innumerable midweek podiums had to say. But I felt it. And it felt a little like 1969.

But some stark contrasts stand out. For one thing, 50 years ago at the point of this correspondence, the Fed Funds Rate stood at 9.25%. At present, one could search far and wide – all over the globe, all over the galaxy, and fail to identify a single debt instrument that pays the rate that America’s leading financial institutions were laying down for overnight borrowing from the Federal Reserve in ‘69.

And it was no great shakes in the stock market either:

It doesn’t look to me like there was a single uptick for the Gallant 500 — all winter or all spring in — ’69. But then again we did have Woodstock. And the Moon Landing. And Vietnam. And Chappaquiddick.

Plainly, the fires of disputing political points of view are burning hot in the wake of the maiden Dem debates. And can only rage with more intensity. All year. And most of next. It doesn’t exactly feel like a love fest, and it is likely to feel less so as the months melt away.

And I’ll close with a couple of thoughts. If anyone on the Left, including our Thin Woman, takes the prize next November, and enacts even 20% of the likely policy agenda we’re not looking at a ’69 redux; it will look and feel much more like 1933. Which no one alive remembers. Not even me.

But here’s the thing. One cannot look at the current equity tape and draw any conclusion other than that investors are placing Trump’s re-election chances at about 100%. I agree with this in terms of direction, but not magnitude. I think, troubled soul though 45 is, his opponents are currently handing him another four years on a silver platter. But he could easily blow it, and he’s got 18 months to do so.

Something is happening out there, and we don’t know what it is, do we? I guess this is true, always. For each and every one of us. Because the whole damned lot of us are a bunch of Mr. and Ms. Jones.

And with that, I wish you all a joyful and pleasant holiday. If you’re looking for inspiration or boredom relief, you could do worse than hoisting one this Wed/Thur to the original Thin Man: Brian Jones. He flew too high, too fast. It all came crashing down too quickly. But oh, within a couple of years there, with his floppy blond hair, iconic teardrop guitar and magnificent multi-instrument riffs, he changed the world. I hope you’re having a good rest, Thin Man.

We’ll carry on as best we can without you, because we cannot do otherwise.

TIMSHEL

A whole lot of squeezing going on. That’s for sure. But we’ll get to that in a minute.

First, a word about Juice. As anyone not living under a rock is aware, The Juice is back. On Twitter, which, for celebrities is the functional equivalent of the mirror under the nose test.

In his maiden tweet, and with trademark class, he suggested he’s got some getting even to do.

The mind races.

Now, at this point, I doubt there’s anyone on the planet who doesn’t know with certainty that he did Brown. And Goldman. And got away with it. Sort of.

But a few years later, he himself got squeezed, and squeezed good. He did 10 years for armed robbery in what, by all appearances, was an epic set up. If you’ll recall, some inside guys moved a bunch of his memorabilia from one Vegas hotel room to another, got him drunk, told him his sh!t had been stolen, stuck a gun in his hand and virtually pushed him into the offender’s chamber. Conveniently, the cops were right there, and busted him on the spot.

Not that he didn’t deserve it. Everyone was happy to see him do his stretch. But a review of the timeline confirms, with scant room for doubt, that he was squeezed, squozen, squozed.

And lately, there’s been a plethora of squeeze activity transpiring, well, everywhere one cares to look.

But let’s focus on the markets, shall we? The Gallant 500 squeezed its way to a new all-time high close on Thursday, before yielding a modest amount of ground to close out the week to close below this milestone. It has now fully recovered the 200 handles it had relinquished in the wake of the May 3 Trump tweet (foretelling of a big ol’ hairy squeeze that 45 was ready to lay on the Chinese). Many in my acquaintance figured that the selloff had legs, that the ten-plus-year rally had finally run its course.

It is my sad duty to report that anyone who acted on this instinct, and adhered to the hypothesis, got their nuts squeezed, and squeezed off.

A similar pattern emerges from other asset classes, and here we begin with bonds. A number of my clients have been short the long end of the Treasury curve (in the United States and elsewhere) for a seemingly endless amount of time, under the conviction that rates would not, could not remain at prevailing depressed levels for much longer. Well, what happened? They got squeezed, of course. Our 10 Year Notes actually pierced the Shylockian level of 2.00% on Thursday, before retreating to an even-more usurious 2.06% by week’s end.

Much of the squeezing may be the result of the continued love hugs of Central Bankers, as led most prominently by Chair Pow, most recently at his Wednesday FOMC presser. No, he didn’t cut rates this time round, but from a Fed-speak perspective, he all but guaranteed that he was fixing to do so, most likely at next month’s policy meeting. Market chatter was rife with speculation that this strategy was at least in part catalyzed by some rather unproductive prodding by the President, who, just the preceding day, had been making unfavorable comparison between our own Fed Chieftain and his more accommodating ECB opposite number, one Mario Draghi.

So the question emerges: did Trump squeeze Powell? I’d like to think not, but based upon how juiced up the markets were in the wake of this sequence, one cannot rule out the possibility.

And the Fixed Income juice was flowing – in abundance – across the globe. France’s 10-Year yields went negative (France? Who in their right minds would lend those lazy, petulant shifters money at negative rates?) Germany, Japan and Switzerland rates hit new, sub-zero lows. I pity anyone who was short these instruments, because the squeezing was a sorrowful sight to behold.

Part of the above-described narrative features an accusation by Mr. T that the Europeans were squeezing down their currency, in an effort to provide incremental advantage vs. the US in our always-entertaining global trade wars. Now, I don’t know if this episode of monetary j’accuse was warranted, but it did yield the desired nectar of a pretty steep drop in the USD over the last couple of sessions:

On balance, I’m not sure how effective these currency wars are in terms of solving whatever economic woes that are keeping investors and policy-makers awake at night.

But I do know this: currency deflation, with respect to any given currency pair, is a game that both sides can play. And, if this goes on much longer, both sides will; in fact, all sides will: us, the Europeans, the Chinese, the Japanese; heck, even the Australians, Canadians and Mexicans may wish to get in on the action. And all I can say is that I hope everyone enjoys the sugar rush while it lasts. Because it will end. And then what?

But in this desperate race to queer up the world’s major units of account, there are some winners, of course. Mostly, these fall within the realms of the long abused Commodity Complex. Oh what a week it was in that forlorn corner of the capital markets! Gold rocketed to a seven-year high. The Grain markets are surging in a manner that brings a joyful tear this old farmer’s rapidly aging eyes. Crude Oil, just when it’s rally had also been left for dead, surged 10% over the back half of the week just concluded.

Anyone entering the week short these quaint but necessary items got the full Juice-Vegas treatment.

But here we must pause awhile and focus more intently on Energy. The smartest energy guys I know are very bearish the bubbling crude, and these guys track inventories like my dear old grandmother would’ve monitored her preserve jars. That is, if she ever contemplated putting up preserves of her own. But she wasn’t that type of grandmother. She liked jams and jellies, and used to make my brother and me choke down more of these pasty foodstuffs than I care to remember. But trust me on this one: all of her preserves were store-bought. Anyway, if my energy guys say that there’s excess supply of Black Gold/Texas Tea, then I’m going to assume that such excess is indeed a reality.

More to the point, I am on repeated record as stating my belief that the catalyst for all of this ’19 Fed love is a fear of a corporate credit bubble, and that if I’m correct on that score, the massive short-term debt outstanding in the Energy Sector is most certainly at the core of the concern. If these borrowers can’t refinance, many will go tits up, and the consequences (as described further below) may be fairly gruesome.

But if you check around, you find that banks are pretty much squeezing the energy boys and girls out of the credit markets:

This graph comes from CNN’s website, and they helpfully provided a numerical legend above the right-most, newest (Q1/19) data point. For purposes of clarity, that number is $0.00. And it bears noting that all of this non-lending was (not) taking place during a very vigorous rally for the underlying commodity:

One can only imagine the passel of non-lending that didn’t transpire as the May trade wars squeezed >10% off of peak, year-to-date valuations. Here, though, we will be compelled to rely exclusively on our imaginations, because, unlike global Treasury debt, energy sector lending volumes cannot reach a lower threshold than zero. Which is where they are.

And if the number fails to rise above this goose egg threshold, then how are energy concerns to refinance their massive short-term debt? And if they fail to refinance, then what might this do in terms of piercing the credit bubble? I don’t want to think about it.

But duty calls. If energy loans don’t roll, the default implications are dire for the entire lending market. Underwriting departments of banks, prompted, presumably, by regulators, will bust out their big red “Rejected” stamps in drumbeat crescendo. It won’t be particularly uplifting to watch.

But as is unfortunately too often the case, and as everyone is aware, the faint drums of war bailed us out in the short term. The Ayatollahs took out one of our drones over international waters in the Strait of Hormuz. Our boys were geared up on the Launchpad to retaliate. At the 11th hour, Trump scrapped the mission. For sure, there was some squeezing going on, but who squeezed whom is anyone’s guess.

But for our purposes, the important point is that a) Crude Oil reversed is slide and rallied; and b) anyone short going into this episode got squeezed. Yet again. What juices will flow from all of this remains to be seen. Probably, we’re going to learn something on this score based upon the outcomes of the Trump/Xi G20 summit this week. That both sides will be in full squeeze mode is a matter of certainty.

Here as elsewhere, though, we must bear in mind our titular theme, and ask ourselves, yet again (though certainly not for the last time) whether the juice is worth the squeeze. I reckon we’ll find out.

TIMSHEL

As far as I’m concerned, you can take your pick. After all, it is Fathers’ Day.

There’s a lot of both going around these days, and why not? It’s that kind of world. There are many people, places and things around today for which it can be said that their subtraction from the landscape would be an addition to us all. But, of course (other than a bit of gratuitous name-dropping), I’ve never been one to name names.

So let’s move on to more pertinent matters.

The FOMC meets this week, and there’s significant speculation that the Fed could cut overnight rates during this sequence. The money line on this places it at about a 25% probability. I’ll stick with the odds on this one, and suggest that they’ll instead stand pat. Even so, though, even if we’re right, Vegas is projecting three such reductions this year, which translates into about one every two months. I suppose it could happen, but questions remain.

For instance, can these rate cuts actually cure what ails us? And for that matter, what indeed does ail us?

But if we subtract, say, 75 basis points from the current Fed Effective Rate of 2.37%, a quick check of the math takes the overnight yield down to 1.62%. This, of course would nominally solve the problem of yield curve inversion, as our 10-year notes currently fetch a positively usurious vig of 2.08%.

But what if the rates at the long end of the curve drop in sympathy to its more rapidly expiring brethren? Just saying, we might be looking at some unintended consequences.

After all, rates around the globe continue to plunge to new lows. Our Treasury Department must, at present, pay nearly 50% more than their opposite numbers in Canada for 10-year maturities (1.43%), and over 23x what those fabulous French shell out for the same transactions (0.09%). And the list of countries for which the ratio is incalculable (due to negative yields that render the denominator unusable) include Switzerland, Germany, Japan, The Netherlands, and (perhaps soon) those magnificent Swedes, whose sociological practices so many among us seek to emulate.

So it’s not clear to me that applying any subtraction to Fed Funds will lead to an addition in the spreads levels that one would calculate between, say, domestic overnight rates and those achievable out 10 years in Treasury-land.

But none of this seems to have troubled the equity portion of the capital markets, which, across the globe, sustained the substantial mojo which, after a dismal May, first rematerialized last week. A small portion of this can perhaps be attributed to the secular, merger-drive addition-by-subtraction about which I’ve been bleating for many months. Shortly after last week’s edition went to press, charter Gallant 500 Raytheon (Market Cap $50B) and United Technologies (Market Cap $125B) announced that the two would become one. So we can subtract yet another name from the menu of liquid, large cap marketable securities upon which portfolio managers are able to feast, and add to the scarcity based valuation of the rest. I do fear that we are headed towards a construct where, if one wishes to own Big Tech, the only choice will be GoogleAppleMicrosoftAdvancedMicroFacebookAmazon, discerning financial sector buyers will have a binary choice of long or short JPMorganMorganStanleyGoldmanSachsBankofAmericaWellsFargo (OK; maybe not Wells Fargo), pharmaceutical investors will find their only holdings choice to be PfizerNovartisHoffmanRocheMerckJohnsonandJohnson, and so on. It will be a glorious spectacle to witness — addition by subtraction at its finest. But will we really be better off? The market, the economy or the average folk on the street? You can decide for yourself.

Equity markets also received a shot in the arm from the withdrawal of our threat to slap tariffs on the Mexicans. This particular addition-by-subtraction was good for about 4% on domestic equity valuations.

But now we must turn to the other half of our theme: multiplication by division. Notably, as our equity indices are surging back towards recent records (ones that might have already been obliterated had we not chosen this point in history to turn up the heat on our China trade war), full-year SPX earnings estimates have been a one-way ticket down. All year:

At the point of this correspondence, the 500 is projecting out $168/unit for all of 2019, and technical analysis suggests that the number could go lower.

I hate to do this to you, but if we’re going to move to multiplication by division, we must extrapolate a current estimated P/E of ~17.2 – pretty elevated by historical standards. But if we flip the numerator and denominator (we do this sometimes), we derive an Earnings Yield in excess of 5.8%, implying that a unit of SPX currently buys 5.8% of earnings.

Now we’ve been higher, MUCH higher. Back in around 1918 (ah, the days of my youth), the Earnings Yield hit nearly 20%. It climbed back to about 16% in 1950 (ah, the days of my middle age). So the number itself is not particularly alarming.

But interest rates were higher during those historical intervals. Much higher. So the question becomes: in a market where Fed Funds yields 2.37%, where 10-year Treasuries throw off a paltry 2.08%, doesn’t the prospect of securing nearly six cents of earnings per dollar of investment in good old American stocks look rather appealing relative to holding Grandma’s Savings Bonds? And couldn’t the appeal spread widen, particularly if rates continue to plunge? As well they might?

And that’s just in the United States, where, astonishingly, government yields are astronomic on a relative basis. And it doesn’t even contemplate the after-tax comparison picture. The average investor in U.S. Treasuries will be required to pay an additional, say, 30% every year, for the privilege of clipping those patriotic coupons, whereas the holders of equities, even at these lofty valuations, will pay only 21%, and need not pay at all for these returns until they decide to sell.

The contrast is even starker in other jurisdictions. Consider Germany for instance. Their Benchmark equity index (which I will heretofore refer to as Herr DAX) currently sports a 15.96 P/E, and thus an Earnings Yield of 6.27%. If one compares this to the prospect of paying 0.25% to Madam Merkel and her crew for allowing them to use your capital until 2029, the selection should be obvious. So I say load the boat Deutschland, On Daimler, Siemens and even the recently-much-maligned Bayer. In Japan, the same story holds (P/E 15.72; Earnings Yield 6.36%).

As such, I have a great deal of sympathy for those, who would actually prefer to generate a positive return on their investment portfolios, if they select Equities over Treasuries. Kon’nichiwa Sony Nintendo and Softbank; Sayōnara JGBs.

And those looking elsewhere, say, the debt of corporations, should be made aware that, alas, they are just a tad late to the party:

Investment Grade Bond Rates                                           High Yield Bond Rates:

Yup, both are approaching five-year lows. And if the Fed follows the smart money and cuts three times in six months, it’s not difficult to extrapolate the forward glide path of these instruments.

So, as a matter of both addition-by-subtraction and multiplication-by-division, all roads appear to point to equities being a pretty good bet.

But it’s not going to be a milk run. However, in the short-term, we have some hopeful catalysts. The decision (announced Saturday) by Chair Xi and his acolytes to back off on their threat to impose unilateral extradition authority on Hong Kong may be a bigger event than some realize. With the Sino economy in the dumpster, and most of the real money in Hong Kong anyway, it’s a bad time for the Party to bring down the hammer on their subjects across the channel. The protests in that jurisdiction have indeed been compelling to observe, but I have a hunch that what really backed the Chinese off was some closed door meetings between the Party and the innumerable corporate enterprises that currently do business in HK, but might not in the future if the entire Island must operate under the threat of extradition to the Mainland. In addition, I suspect that the surprise move tees up a warm, friendly beginning to the pending G20 summit, during which the next episode of the Trump-Xi Game of Thrones should be available for download.

I will admit to being kind of sad that Sarah (Sister Wife) Sanders is exiting, Stage Right. Lots of speculation on this one, but of course, I have my theories. I think that 45 asked her to leave as part of an amping up for the 2020 campaign, the formal announcement of which is scheduled to take place on Tuesday. I’m thinking he figures that all of us Sarah worshipers are already in his camp, and that maybe a new face, perhaps one with more pizzazz, will add an increment of energy. If so, it will offer a clinically perfect environment to test the political aspects of addition-by-subtraction.

And as for multiplication-by-division, well, all I can say is it is Father’s Day. And where would all of us fathers be if our cells didn’t, at one point, divide, in order to subsequently multiply? It’s our day to enjoy the fruits of these blessings, and so I take my leave.

So Happy Father’s Day, y’all. And here’s wishing you many joyous additions and multiplications in the days ahead – whatever route by which they may come your way.

TIMSHEL

Can we give it up, one last time, for Malcolm John Rebennack, aka Dr. John the Night Tripper, who took his show to the sky on Thursday?

He’s gone, but nobody can say he didn’t leave his mark. Particularly in his home city of New Orleans. He’s best known for a couple of FM Radio hits in the ‘70s — most notably the edgy but arguably overplayed “Right Place, Wrong Time”, but there was more to him that that. Alone perhaps apart from the long-since-departed Professor Longhair, Dr. John’s was the musical voice of the Crescent City. And we owe him, at minimum, for that.

But I’m going to focus this week’s tribute upon one of his (Oxymoron Alert): lesser-known hits: “Such a Night”. It’s a rolling, rambling honkey tonk/boogie woogie kind of thing, that tells the story of his leaving a joint with his “best friend Jim’s” date. I think this was kind of a questionable move on his part, as he admits himself in the verse. But in the memorable chorus, he offers the following justification:

“If I don’t do it, somebody else will, if I don’t do it, somebody else will”

And so on.

And now, with the good doctor closing up shop for keeps, somebody else indeed will have to. “Do it” that is. And almost assuredly, somebody else will.

Because it’s that kind of world we live in. Particularly these days. You may hear different from other quarters, but as your risk manager, I caution you not to believe that tripe. Instead, my advice is to take what’s out there for the grabbing, because (everybody say it with me) if you don’t do it, somebody else will.

And last week, in the markets, somebody indeed was doing it, or, to be more specific, buying it, at levels sufficient to beat the band. Across a wide range of instruments and asset classes. All over the world. U.S. equities, as has been widely reported, enjoyed their best Monday through Friday session of this remarkable year. In result, the Gallant 500, which little more than a week ago resided 200 index points below its pre-Cinco-de-Mayo-Trump-China-Tweet highs, has now recovered well more than half of its lost ground.

And that was before Friday night’s “forget the whole thing” announcement on Mexican tariffs. Now, I’m not in a position to quantify just how damaging those south of the border levies, had they been enacted, might have been, but I can confidently state that the threatened action did indeed contribute to some of the hardships that many of you experienced in May.

But now the plan has been scrapped, and in all likelihood, the markets will continue to register their satisfaction with this act of discretion – by extending the rally into at least early next week.

However, threatening to overwhelm the focus on all of this is the continued, astonishing bid for global treasury debt. I will spare you an inventory of the current, microscopic yield conditions, but if you care to look for yourself, I won’t stop you. Presumably, you’ll see for yourself what I’m writing about.

Even my home dog Grains are continuing to show some mojo, but that’s probably as much due to growth condition deterioration as anything else. Further, I’d caution you against piling in, as it were, whole hog, into these realms. As a near-five-decade observer of Corn, Wheat and Soy Beans, I’ve too often witnessed the construct of weather-related summer rallies that fatten the wallets of the insiders, only to subsequently observe, come harvest time, another set of record yields and collapsing prices.

Likely the main catalyst for all of the stolen love inventoried thus far into our essay is the compound impacts of central bank wooing and an unambiguously tepid Jobs picture. We woke up Wednesday morning to the news that according to the near-infallible Advanced Data Processing folks, this here giant economy managed to gin up only a pathetic 25K of new gigs in May. We’d barely digested this intelligence when Chair Pow took to a Chicago podium, to offer, yet again, his formidable, protective arm to the domestic capital economy. On Thursday, his opposite number in Europe, the outgoing ECB Chair (Super) Mario Draghi, riffed off in the same key and core theme. Then came Friday’s official BLS Jobs Report, which while not as dire, told of only 75K new employment positions emerging last month.

I’d like to combine the BLS and ADP numbers and call it an even hundred thou, but the math just doesn’t seem to work in that manner.

In any event, the markets, as described above, swooned with delight. And one can certainly extrapolate that investors considered bad news to be good news, at least in this instance (they do this sometimes, you know). So smitten were investment analysts that short-term interest rate futures have now priced in as many as four fed cuts in the remaining six plus months of 2019.

I’m a little skeptical here I must say. First, I don’t think a rate cut, to say nothing of four such reductions, is particularly warranted. My biggest fear (which also happens to be my second point of incredulity) is that I don’t think that reducing short-term rates (which is what we’re talking about here), will generate the desired outcome. Presumably, everyone, including the Fed, would like to lance the boil of a pretty severely inverted yield curve. But, gun to my head, I believe that it won’t work. I think that if the Fed cuts on the point where it can, it will drag longer-term rates right down for the ride. The curve, under my scenario, would remain inverted, just at lower magnitudes at every point of maturity.

Haven’t we had enough of this medicine already? Are we not sufficiently anesthetized to all of this? It’s certainly a fair question to ask.

But if they don’t do it, maybe somebody else will. However, not everyone is buying into the buying frenzy. In a widely publicized interview, money management titan Stan Druckenmiller, citing a litany of issues (tariffs, the possibility of a progressive taking the White House in 2020, valuations), proclaimed that he had taken his equity portfolio to neutral. Now I don’t know Druck personally (have said hello once or twice), but as a money manager (with due respect to my former bosses and current clients), he’s my absolute idol. He’s everything that I would wish to be if: a) I was foolish enough to enter that arena; and b) if some group of investors was imprudent enough to back me in such a venture. To begin with, he has not had a down year in nearly four decades of investing. Think about that. But more importantly, in addition to being transcendently brilliant, he shows enormous self-awareness, and an equal measure of humility. He does not seek the spotlight, and doesn’t offer his opinions until they are fully vetted through his fabulous brain.

In contrast this to many of his higher profile peers, he does not offer opinions in advance of taking actions. He doesn’t “talk his book”: making his statements and diving in afterword – in the hopes of moving markets his way. He sold out and then spoke.

And when Druck speaks, we should all listen. Again, he pretty much keeps to himself unless he’s got something important to convey. So he must be pretty nervous about the markets, and if he is, so, too, should be the rest of us.

Not being Druck, my sense is that he’s right about the troubles that plague us. It’s just a matter of when they manifest. For him, as he articulately pointed out, it’s about what he thinks is best for his private wealth. He’s no longer managing other peoples’ money (in itself a red flag), and thus feels no acute performance pressure. As such, he can afford to be early.

Most of the rest of us lack this luxury. And for those who must eat (or buy a summer home) from what they kill, I think that the short-term risks tilt to the upside. Valuations, yes, are stretched, and we’re looking at a slowdown in everything from global growth to earnings outlooks.

But the Central Banks seem hell-bent on keeping the band playing. And I think I see they’re point. At the risk of been a repetitive bore, I think that they are absolutely terrified of a credit collapse, and feel that they must do all in their considerable powers to insure against this sort of calamity. And that means: a) keeping financing conditions at ridiculously unsustainable accommodation levels; and b) priming the pump even further if what they’re already doing proves to be insufficient.

What may be even more pertinent in my judgment is that the monetary chieftains are acting in what must be pretty full-knowledge that investors have them backed into a corner. A selloff of any kind ensures more monetary stimulus, and, beyond this, their fat finger on the valuation scale (most specifically its attendant suppression of yields) virtually guarantees that if there is indeed a credit bubble out there (and indeed there is), their actions will only serve to expand it, through the catalyzing of even more borrowing. The CBers are not stupid; they know all of this. And yet they persist and double down. They must be really scared, and probably we should be too.

As I’ve mentioned before, I believe a lot of the short-term risk centers in the Energy complex, which is over-levered by any standards. Lots of energy paper needs to roll over the next few quarters for the drillers, refiners and explorers, and at levels much below current prints on the underlying commodity they utilize, the odds on likelihood is that it won’t roll. This means defaults. Which might very well cascade. Well beyond the Energy Sector. And then we’re in real trouble.

So I advise everyone, to keep their eyes fixed upon energy prices. Crude has experienced a recent ~20% correction. And as for Nat Gas, well, it’s best not to ask.

So I get it. I mean, I get it all. Why the CBs are bending over, why Druck doesn’t want to be long here. But if you want to make some money here for your investors, my strong recommendation is that you not pile in on the short side. I will not quarrel with you if you wish to ride light, but anyone playing for a short-term collapse is, in my judgment, playing with fire. The Fed won’t help you, and neither will I. Instead, you will be on your own.

What, of course, you want to avoid is being in the right place at the wrong time. Dr. John rode this mismatch to several decades of fame, and, on Friday, the City of New Orleans were filled with music for his Second Line Funeral Parade. They don’t do this for just anyone, you know.

As for Druck, well, come what may, time is on his side. On the whole it’s tricky out there, and I’m here to tell you to that I’d proceed with caution were I in your shoes. After all, if I don’t do it, NOBODY else will.

TIMSHEL

Bear with me while I use this week’s note to directly address the Leader of the Free World (except trade).

Donald, DONALD! What the F are you doing? Why are you making all of this so hard? On us and on yourself. You and I have met. Twice. First when you were pitching your ultimately successful purchase and wholesale restoration of what is now Trump National Golf Course in Briarcliff Manor, NY (we were neighbors of sorts at that time; my house overlooked the 5th green). The second time was at the Concert for New York after 9/11. I pulled some of my world renown strings and had front row seats. You and your previous side piece sat right behind me. You bought my wife a drink and you double-fisted my handshake. Like I was some sort of big shot who you wished to know. You were wrong about that, and, probably, you don’t even remember either encounter.

Or maybe you do. And maybe you’re still mad at me for not voting for you. Sorry, But. I. Just. Couldn’t. Instead, I sat ‘16 out. I liked you better than your opponent, though, and I was glad you won. I want you to know that I’m still rooting for you (sort of). Mostly because if you exit, Stage Right, what emerges from the other wing frightens me to no end. When you pulled off your stunning upset, the ideological core of your opposition was embodied in one Bernie Sanders. I have recently commented that in order to take the honor of running against you in ’20, competitors in the field would have to out-Bernie Bernie. And, 17 months out from the big show, they’ve already, improbably, accomplished this feat. Bernie’s policies are now by and large in the Center, relative to those of his competitors, in his (adopted) party. Most would turn this country into a redistributive mass of sludge; a land of bureaucratic circumlocution, where virtually nobody but The Chosen could thrive on the basis of merit and accomplishment. It’s a place where I won’t wish to reside. And I will have nowhere else to go.

The left turn of the Dems has heretofore pleased me, because I believed that it would ensure the defeat of its architects. They’ve been handing you another term. On a silver platter. And now, you’re doing a great deal to blow it. You’re making it increasingly difficult for those who wish you well to support you. And if you continue down this path, you might bitch it up, Hillary-style. Think about that for a moment.

I’m not gonna lie: your latest stunt has me truly hacked off. A tariff? On Mexico? Out of the blue? On immigration? When we’ve so many battles to fight – some too vexing to even contemplate?

I’m guessing that you’re still fuming about this whole Mueller thing: his 9-minute elegy to the dying embers of his credibility. Maybe this is why you’re acting out. But Big Guy, you won. Mueller lost. The Dems lost. Scowling Bobby took to the podium on Wednesday and punted the ball to the House, which, best case, can only call a fair catch. They’ve got nothing on you that would hold up in court. If they did go forward with impeachment you’d also be able to present a compelling case of their malfeasance. They know this, and don’t want to tangle with you. And Mueller made it harder for them to stand down. It’s time for you to take last week’s advice from this column and stop Pitching Past the W.

But instead you’re lashing out. And in the wrong directions. If I had one shred of wisdom to offer you, it’s this: the domestic and global economy is hanging by a thread. It risks collapse, and now, if it does implode, it’s on you. Wind the clock, if you will, back a month. Before you made your move against China. Had you held your fire then, had you not imposed those big tariffs, had you chosen a gentler course with Huawei, had you not decided to push your presidential powers in questionable manner against Mexico, oh what a strong position would you and the rest of us hold. The markets, I’m convinced, would be at all-time highs. The economy would be surging. Your political enemies would be painting themselves into an even tighter corner.

But instead, you’re out there tilting at windmills. And yes, you are our Donald Quixote, our Man of La Mancha or in your case, Mar a Lago), dreaming impossible dreams, fighting unbeatable foes, and running where the brave (as well as the wise) dare not to go. You claim the Mexico thing is a necessary response to a life-or-death border crisis. I disagree. The whole immigration saga looks increasingly like political sleight of hand to me, and, at any rate, responding by slapping duties on the source country because Congress won’t support you is hardly a constructive way to address the problem.

Because tariffs are just bad policy. Period. At times, they may be necessary, but this ain’t one of them. If you care to check their impact, maybe you could just dig up the carcass of Herbert Hoover, who signed the Smoot-Hawley Tariff Act into law on March 13, 1930, just six short months after the stock market crash. At the time, unemployment was at 8%. Within two years, it rose to 25%. It wasn’t, of course, all about the tariffs, but suffice to say they didn’t help matters. It took Franklin D. Roosevelt — that great apostle of free enterprise, to bring a measure of rationality back into the realms of international trade. It was a step in the right direction, but arguably came too late. The global economy gasped and groaned its way through the remainder of the ‘30s, and we all know what happened after that.

But perhaps this is all merely a component of a broader strategy to accomplish a more central part of your agenda: the suppression of interest rates. After all, you’ve spent your whole life borrowing money (not always, if my information is correct, bothering to pay it back) and, as such, any interest rate above the bare minimum is gall and wormwood to you. You’re already on the public record, on multiple occasions, as complaining loudly that rates are too high. You have, in questionable judgment, actually called out the presumed-independent Chairman of the Federal Reserve Bank of the United States on this. Multiple times. This has troubled many (including me), and, on balance, I think Chair Pow (whatever other sins he may have committed) has handled your rhetoric with a laudable degree of professionalism.

So maybe you’re thinking: if I can’t get this Powell guy to do my bidding, I’ll find a different way to lower the vig. So, now, tariffs on China and Mexico, with a promise of more to come. Let’s, while we’re at it, also drop an antitrust investigation on the laps of Serge and Larry. Nobody will mind; they’re arrogant little drips that nobody likes. And the strategy appears to be working. In case you were too busy in the Oval Office to read my last note, I will favor you with an updated look at the Treasury Yield Curve:

Investors must now accept maturities out to around the year 2038 to achieve the same annualized yield available to them at the 3-month point on the curve. And yet they are still buying – mostly because they see no other rational alternative. The Gallant 500 is now 200 handles below its pre-tariff-circus peak. Somehow, and improbably, it has pierced from above its 200, 100 and 50-day Moving Averages, and this after spending months well above these thresholds.

Anyone wishing to dive into the equity complex is presumably aware that they’re going to need to strap on in. I think Equities may be cheap here, but with those tariff tweet missiles, poised on their Launch pads who knows?

But in Fixed Income, the opposite construct presents itself. The bond bid, if anything, has accelerated, and this on a global basis. Our 10-year yields (2.13%) are at 24-month lows. Germany’s are at -0.2%, Japan’s -0.1%, Switzerland? Negative 0.51%. Heck, as prophesied in these pages, even the otherwise dull as dishwater but generally clear thinking Dutch are now imposing about a 2 bp/year cost on their obligors.

So maybe this is what you’re all about, Trump. If so, I congratulate you on your short-term success. Perhaps you can even continue to draw from this well, as you have in the past, until it runs dry (and it will). Nothing of this sort would surprise me now.

Though I hesitate to even put the thought into your head, if you really want to nail the concept of receiving (rather than paying) interest on borrowed money (which first appears in the history of our species about 2,000 years Before Christ), you might consider a policy under which the United States imposes tariffs upon itself. This would truly be the coup de grace, particularly in light of the reality that 70% of our GDP is generated within our own borders. The duties would be enormous, and we all win. If we set these at appropriate levels, we might even be able to beat the Swiss at their own game.

But of course all of this is dangerous to an extreme. That the tariffs will suppress global economic activity is a matter of near-certainty. Frenzied buying of debt instruments, will increasingly, and as addressed last week, catalyze the misallocation of capital, crush savers, and exacerbate what many already consider an historic debt bubble. In light of current rate paradigms, rational borrowers should be spending the weekend in conference with their bankers, and, if the trend continues, should stalk them not only at their places of business, but also at their residences.

Again, I don’t necessarily see an economic reckoning fixed on the calendar just yet. But it’s coming. Meanwhile the political reckoning may be closer in the offing. And forgive me, if all of this serves us up a big dish of Liz Warren in 2021, I’m not showing appropriate gratitude. Fact is, I won’t be feeling much.

And now I have no choice but to warn my readers about possible regime shifts towards risk aversion in the month of June. May, lord knows, was bad enough for them. But now it’s possible that June will be even worse. It’s hard to put risk on the table when you’re going off half-cocked like this, and, on balance, I think the wiser course may be to reduce exposures On the other hand, maybe you’ll back off on your Mexican rhetoric (after all, nobody wants you to do this thing: not your advisors, not Congress, and not the public). Maybe it was all just rhetoric in the first place.

But it’s a hazardous game. For you and the rest of us. Your public persona suggests you like living on the edge, and all of the attendant attention this brings. But Donny-boy, you’re sucking all of the oxygen out of the room, out of the house, out of the planet, out of the friggin’ galaxy.

Give the rest of us some, won’t you? Your Sancho Panzas have been very loyal to you, and have taken more incoming heat for so being than you possibly can imagine. If you fail, it is we that will suffer the consequences. You’ll just head back to your La Mancha/Mar a Lago, while the rest of us take the blows sure to be issuing from a newly empowered progressive regime that will be out for our blood because we didn’t buy into their bourgeois at the point we were instructed to do so.

Maybe it’s an impossible dream on my part, but if you did back off just a bit, there’s just the chance for all of us to reach that unreachable star. If you need any further advice you know where to find me.

I’ll be at my post, dealing with all of the havoc you wreaked on my clients during the month of May.

TIMSHEL

OK so it’s the holiday and I hope you’re enjoying it. But as you (at long last) bust out your seasonal whites, allow me to offer one piece of advice: don’t do it. It’s a bad idea.

Pitching past the W that is.

But maybe I should clarify. The concept is as ancient as our days, taking the general form admonishing us to back off once we’ve accomplished our objective. It has many, perhaps the most ubiquitous of which is that once you’ve made a sale, it’s time to stop selling. In my own personal experience, I’ve lived through both positive and negative examples of this, and I think I’ve learned my lesson. For the most part, once I’ve cut the deal, I no longer expound upon its merits to my opposite number.

Another way of describing this, in baseball terms, is Pitching Past the W. If you’re a pitcher who has the game in hand, don’t try to mow down hitters with your dazzling fastball. Serve them up some junk. Throw some strikes, yes, but keep the ball low. Make ‘em hit it on the ground. Of course, it’s possible to still lose under these circumstances, but at least you’ve minimized the odds of doing so.

Of course, not only does the analogue apply to portfolio management, I’d go so far as to suggest that it is a basic tenet of risk management. Consider, if you will, the example of a PM group that bought a troubled stock near its lows, thinking it could maybe double. When the price hits, say, >90% of the specified target, it’s time for them to consider unloading some of it. They may still think it can go higher, but that’s not the point. If they wish to play for further upside, they should either liquidate and then re-establish the position, or at least go through the exercise of re-underwriting it, with new targets and downside exit points.

But many don’t adopt this strategy, and thus find themselves having pitched past the W. More often than I care to remember, they have squandered the fruits of what was, in its formation, a great trade. The stock drops and they defend it; maybe even double down. And when all is said and done, what was a magnificent two-bagger morphs into a gnarly loss.

And, beyond the grubby realms of seeking returns through active investment, it strikes me that Pitching Past the W is a problem for the entire global political/capital economy. It may even be that the whole world may have committed our titular sin. If so, I myself have a problem. Specifically, across all forms of global economic activity, I’m having a great deal of trouble determining just where the W is. And if I can’t find the W, then how am I to advise my minions as to what point they should not pitch past?

Because as this long-awaited, well-earned start to the Summer Season has arrived, I have very little clarity as to what may happen – particularly in the near term. The global markets open up today and the U.S. takes off tomorrow. I really don’t know where it’s going. The China thing is still humongous enough to blot out the sun, and I’m sure I’m not alone in finding these intermediate crosswind communication breadcrumbs beyond maddening. We’re making progress, we’re being deceived, something will get done, we’re prepared to gird our loins for a long battle. Just do us all a favor and shut up already!

And in terms of nearly everything else, there’s no W that we can easily identify. Lots of problems out there. Iran, of course. May’s departure, stage middle, from 10 Downing (and a palpable fear of who takes center stage after her). The Nationalists swept the EU elections. Macron got embarrassed by Le Pen.

There of course are also escalating tensions between the White House and Capitol Hill, with the promise of more of the same to come, and it does appear that both sides are trying to sneak a big fat slider past the dub. Trump walked away from any substantive negotiations with the Dems this past week, in ultimatum against their continued efforts to remove him. This was somewhat of a bold move on his part, and (while I thought it a silly stunt when it I first heard of it) I now think Pelosi is right. 45 is begging, or at least taunting, the Dems into impeaching his @$$. My guess he has more in mind than simply acting, in Clinton/’98, redux, in expectation that the electorate will punish the impeachers politically). Specifically, I suspect that he’s itching for a trial in which his lawyers can put a whole cadre of operatives: Comey, McCabe, Clapper, Brennan, Lynch, Rice, Powers, and maybe even Big Dog 44 on the stand, and let them state, under oath and cross, how a counterintelligence investigation landed in his HQ, without him being even given the courtesy of notification. If the saga plays out in this fashion, it will be quite a show.

But one side or the other will surely pitch past the W, and will live to suffer the consequences.

Maybe even both will. And in some ways, that’s not the worst outcome for the rest of us. The initiatives Trump says he’s forgoing are both pretty stupid ones, says I. We simply don’t have $2 Tril hanging around and waiting to be infra-structured away. Gotta be a better way to fix roads, bridges and grids. Plus, though not an opinion shared by everyone, as a free market economist, I am against government intervention into drug pricing. The costs are too high, and yes there are folks getting rich as maharajas gaming the system (Pharmacy Benefits Managers in particular), but c’mon, do you really think that we’ll get better outcomes, that there will be less chicanery, if the federales step in? Think again.

But there’s other potential past-W pitchers out there, and my next, perhaps my favorite candidate, is the global central banking complex and its now-decade-long strategy of giving away money. While it’s been a rocky outing for equity hurlers over the past month, the starters and relievers on the global bond squad have been shutting them down like Koufax or Ryan in their primes. As our favorite stock indices have been swinging, missing, or, at best, fouling off pitches, long end government bonds continue to crush it, as, with little fanfare, the US yield curve became, for the first time in years, unambiguously inverted:

Now, those who want to adopt a “pitcher half full” viewpoint on this will take comfort in the awareness that if one goes out to maturities in the year 2031 and beyond, it remains possible to secure a rate higher than that of 3-month T-bills. But this, at best, is thin gruel.

And the thing of it is that the United States Treasury Complex appears, by comparison, to have the healthiest and most rational yield configuration among all of the major economic powers of this forlorn world.

However, if we have indeed used QE to pitch past the W, we did so a long time ago. While tt will take many more decades to determine the full impacts (positive and negative), I’d say that up to this moment, the program has earned an addition to the left digit of its record. Whether you realize it or not, in 2008, we were hurtling towards a full-on Depression. The banks were on the verge of failure. The entire global credit system was verging towards collapse. There would’ve been massive unemployment, insolvency and myriad forms of human toll. It might’ve been as bad as the ‘30s. Or worse. And remember, it took the biggest war in history (the heroic efforts of those who forged victory are some of what celebrate today) to pull us out of that economic slump.

Let’s just agree that it was a show well worth our avoiding a second screening.

So the Central Banks, led by the Fed, sought to avoid disaster by flooding the system with liquidity, drowning it in the stuff. And for at least a decade, the results have been miraculous. You can quibble if you will, but the hard fact is that instead of depression, we’ve had more than ten solid years of a growing economy and all of its fruits: breathtaking technological innovation, abundance of employment, and, of course, the mammon that us filthy lucre seekers pursue most ardently: historic investment returns. While it hasn’t always seemed like a raging bull tape, the reality is that over the 10 years (and a partial quarter), the Gallant 500 has more than quadrupled, matching the performance from the waning period of the Carter years through Regan and Bush the First.

So yes it’s been a big fat W, but there was and remains every possibility that we would, at some point, have pitched past it. We may have done so already. It is beyond dispute that the suppression of core rates to zero or below has visited myriad plagues upon us. Companies that have no business surviving as going concerns are being unwisely sustained by easy financing. Capital is being misallocated. Savers are being gutted like fish. And once a country’s 10 year notes hit the inflection point of zero, they have a devil of a time getting out of this rabbit hole. If you doubt this, just check the prices on the paper issued by our former Axis enemies: Japan and Germany. Especially Japan.

Most troubling of all, the debt burden just keeps on expanding – to record levels. As my esteemed acquaintance Jim (no relation) Grant points out this week, the aggregate value of negatively yielding global debt is now in excess of $10 Trillion. Chew on that, if you will, for a moment.

And I feel it a near certainty that the global capital economy will eventually blow this W by pitching past it. But I don’t know if it has happened yet, and, gun to my head, I kind of doubt that it has.

I still feel that securities are in short, growing shorter, supply. Prices in the real economy are, if anything, falling. The government measures of inflation are said to overstate the metric, and, while trying to confirm that would be attempting to corroborate the unobservable, I believe that the assertion is probably correct. Much of this is due to the economic impacts of modern technology, which has taken both consumer and commercial price discovery to a point of near-perfection. My daughter will indeed get another crib for my darling grandchildren, but only after weighing 20 options that are at their fingertips. Companies may be hiring, but given the portability of labor, the competing dynamics of automation, and the ability to perform perfect wage cost due diligence, they ain’t paying a penny over what they have to in order to secure their work force. In my own business, with technology-enabled risk solutions multiplying like hobgoblins, I am unable to contemplated raising fees. Ever.

And on balance, with the free money still flowing, no inflation and basic economic stability, I feel we have not yet reached the point where we have pitched past the W.

But I’m going to keep watching — with a wary eye. Markets will probably be in high motion for the rest of the quarter and beyond, but in general I think the bid is still there. But I’d close where I began, by begging you to keep risks tight and avoid pitching past the W.

And, given that I’ve ground my baseball analogies into the dust) combined with the fact that the St. Louis Blues are currently facing the Boston Bruins in the Stanley Cup Finals) I will finish by stating that if you follow this advice, you may indeed be able to slip one past the goalie.

TIMSHEL

Before y’all get up in my grill about a potential descent into the muck and mire (in this, the age of impeccable decorum), please know that I have no intention of doing so. My days of writing about the pleasures of the flesh ended about a decade ago, perhaps due to my frightening accumulation of trips around the sun. I am now, biologically speaking, what Hamlet wished his mother Gertrude to be: “at (an) age where the heyday in the blood is tame, it’s humble, and waits upon the judgement”.

Instead, our theme derives from a quote from Oscar Levant, who once famously said that he knew Doris Day before she was a virgin. Now, I don’t know much about this Levant person, but according to Wikipedia (that compendium of all human knowledge), he was something of a Renaissance Man, a first rate pianist, composer, and (evidently) a world class wit.

But I do remember Doris Day, who left us after a nearly a century of fluffy, optically prudish elegance this past week. Being a child of the Sixties, I was too young to have carried much of a torch for her. She remains in everyone’s mind’s eye, the lovely, prim, girl next door. Young bloods who doubt this should consider the following: the romantic interest for her most iconic roles was none other than Rock Hudson. Her real life much different; it was wild and wooly, and features many escapades that ran in direct conflict with her public persona. But in respect to the dead, we’ll pass over these without comment.

It was one of those weeks when our idols dropped like flies: Day, Peggy Lipton (the number one object of fantasy for me and any number of my boyhood friends), the architect I.M. Pei, and, for what it’s worth, my daddy. But I’ll spare you any further ruminations on the last of these.

It was also something of a wild and wooly market week, buffeted, as was inevitable, by latest twists and turns in the China saga. I didn’t notice much good news on that front, so, on balance, it’s fair to state that the market held up well against these tidings. I won’t say that we’re virgins again, but the stain of our deflowering is, at this point, barely observable.

Of course, the full tale of our China Syndrome has yet to unfold, but we are perhaps now at a point when we can parameterize various outcomes, and here’s how the fine economists at JP Morgan have handicapped the scenario:

For those among my readership who prefer words to pictures in understanding a story, Team JPM suggests that a bad trade outcome will take the Gallant 500 to depths last observed in the first couple of sessions of 2019, while a favorable result will catapult it to the lofty, never-before breached elevations of 3,200.

On balance, will go out on a limb and agree that it will settle somewhere within these ranges. If I were to quibble at all, I would do so with the implication that any clarity will manifest itself in what remains of the Month of May. Due to the pending holiday weekend, this month has only nine trading days left to it, some of which will be truncated by the Memorial Day getaway ritual.

My best (and of course boldest) guess is that we end the month well below the green arrow tip but significantly above the red one. We may indeed bounce around a bit, but I suspect that the blow-off valuation resolution will not transpire during the date ranges specified in the above-presented graph.

Beyond that, though, and in general, it appears to me that investors are anxious to make a play for those financial instruments that have long been the objects of their collective desires. They may like, Doris Day, again become virgins, but at the point of this correspondence, it looks to me like they have drawn some nectar from the carnal cup, and are thirsting for more.

I offer, as Exhibit A, the market’s response to Thursday’s news that the Trump Administration had placed Chinese component maker Huawei Technologies (and 26 of its global affiliates) on a dreaded blacklist – a step that may preclude it from doing business of any kind with the U.S. or any of its allies. Though long anticipated as possibility, the announcement was, in my judgment very big (and not particularly constructive) news. Huawei is the largest manufacturer of telecommunications equipment in the world. Its goods traverse the entire supply chain — for products ranging from smart phones to satellite equipment, etc. If, indeed, they are shut out in significant measure from the global markets, then all of us are likely to feel the bite. And all of this is transpiring: a) in the midst of what appears to be a burgeoning trade war; and b) as the world gears up for the conversion to 5G, and the boondoggle tech spend it portends.

But the markets barely budged. In the United States, equity indices sold off by a titch, but the week ended strongly – particularly in Europe but also across most of Asia-Pacific. The frenzied bid for global bonds continued apace, the USD rallied across the globe, and even my beleaguered Grains began to register something of a pulse.

Contrast this, if you will, to the action in the immediate wake of the last move that 45 made against the Company. On December 6th of last year, Canadian officials, at the request of their U.S. counterparts, arrested Meng Wanzhou, Huawei’s CFO (and, coincidentally, the daughter of its founder) on multiple charges of corporate fraud. To this day, she is awaiting (and fighting) extradition to this country. Astute readers will recall that this move came less than a week after a supposedly productive summit between Trump and Xi, held in conjunction with the G20 meetings in Buenos Aires. You know, the one where the now-imposed tariffs were postponed.

But this earlier event seems to have transpired in our pre-virginal days. At the time of Ms. Meng’s arrest, the SPX had already fallen ~11% from its late September highs, and was less than half way through a rout that took the index down to levels last seen just days before Trump placed his hand on the Bible on the Capitol steps, and Madonna was speaking in Central Park, threatening to blow up the White House.

This time, however, against the backdrop of what I believe to be a more serious step than the staged arrest of a single nepotistic corporate executive, investors reacted with little more than a shrug.

I have pondered as to why this is the case, and the best answer I can offer points again towards the lusty actions of the Fed and other Central Banks. After ignoring/abusing the market for the latter part of 2018, the Fed, ECB, BOJ and PBOC turned their amorous eyes in its direction, and the fluttered investment community reacted with a sigh and a swoon. It remains weak-kneed, and, in my judgment, fully under the spell of these Lothario monetary policy wonks to this day.

Again returning to the JPM graph, I am more inclined to believe that any broom-jumping ceremony between the U.S. and China will launch valuations into the stratosphere, than I am that a full-on desertion will catalyze a rout. One never knows about these things, but until we put on again our Vestal Virginal robes, we must operate with our eyes wide open, while, perhaps, guarding our nether regions with greater care than we have exhibited in recent times.

And I wish there was more at the moment to distract our wandering eyes than the potentially misanthropic courtship between The People’s Republic of China and the United States of America. But there’s not. A few final earnings numbers will trickle in over the next week, but the Q1 chapter is now substantially written. It tells of a mixed bag of more favorable valuations, coupled with some stock suitor wrath at any whiff of disappointment:

Forward P/E Below 5 Year Average, but..                      Investors Lashing Out at Disappointed Hopes

After the last earnings love sonnets (or Dear John letters) roll in, we’ll all be off to the Beach. We’ll pick up these threads mid-week next week, when, I suspect, we’ll flutter in, hair askew and skin flushed, to conclude a stormy month on Friday week.

And one final comment before I take my leave. Whatever happens after we get some clarity respecting our intentions with the Chinese, I’d fade the next market move. If we migrate towards the JPM green line, it’s likely time to sell. By contrast, if we swoon towards the red, I will in all probability call for us to gather ourselves and do some shopping. Many times after Rock and Doris had a falling out, she’d pull herself together and head to the mall. We may well wish to consider adopting the same strategy.

But as her signature song foretells, “Que sera sera, whatever will be will be”. My hypothesis is that we are no longer virgins, but we could become so once again. After all, Doris Day pulled off this transformation multiple times. And lived for nearly a century to tell the tale.

So, as a matter of risk management protocols, it is advisable that we prepare ourselves for either contingency.

TIMSHEL

Crazy cat peekin’ through a lace bandana,

Like a one-eyed Cheshire, like a diamond-eyed Jack,

A leaf of all colors plays a golden string fiddle,

To a Double E waterfall over my back

— Jerry Garcia and Robert Hunter

It had to happen eventually, that I’d get around to featuring China Cat Sunflower in one of these notes. After all, the joyful, bouncy, two chord journey through what can only be described as a lyrical acid trip has comprised a significant portion of the soundtrack of my life.

The challenge was always with finding the right contextualization: how to offer relevant reference to a series of bon mots — about copper-toned Bodhis dripping silver kimonos, or Comic Book colors on a violin river, crying Leonardo words from out a silk trombone. But admittedly, the task is no harder than that associated with previous lyrical references offered in this space, for instance Lennon’s “yellow matter custard, dripping from a dead dog’s eye”.

But now the moment has arrived, because China Cat Sunflower 2019 is on. Or off, depending upon your vantage point. At all points since last Sunday’s Trump tweet fest against China (regrettably issued after last week’s issue went to press, and, as such, absent from the copy itself), the entire global capital market have become one big US/China Trade Talks derivative. Risk-embracing assets began selling off as early as Sunday night, and bounced around in lock step with the tone/content of every subsequent rumor or 280-character proclamation. I’m not sure if this is the best way to roll – in terms of either policy or investor reaction, but it doesn’t really matter, because that’s what we’re looking at. Equities had their worst week of this amazing year. Global bonds enjoyed a bidding frenzy that threatens to move the Swedes and the Danes into the lofty company of Germany, Japan and (of course) Switzerland — as countries that demand capital allocators pay them interest for the privilege of purchasing/holding their 10-year debentures. Take a look at the Commodities action if you dare, but remember: you were forewarned.

Of course, no one has any idea as to how this all plays out, perhaps not even the principal actors themselves. But one thing we can state for certain is that as of 12:01, last Friday morning, US trade policy includes a 25% tariff on an incremental $200B of goods imported from China. The list of products impacted is a long one, and to tell you the truth, I didn’t review it in detail (OK; I didn’t review it at all). However, I am confident in stating that if any consumers out there are in the habit of purchasing either Cats or Sunflowers from China, they should expect some sticker shock on their next orders.

I’ll be straight up with y’all: I could’ve lived without the drama, even if, inadvertently, it added some credibility to last week’s themes about a pretty entrenched resistance at the approximate 2950 level on the SPX. Well, the technicals held, but not for technical reasons. Inexorable fundamentals flared up, and it is for this reason that the resistance walls could not be breached. But one way or another, the Gallant 500 has now formed a Triple E Top (i.e. as opposed to a Double E waterfall) at these thresholds.

On balance, though, I will join the chorus of those we believe that the market held in pretty strongly in the wake of these machinations. Consider, for instance, that what seemed like a bloodbath all bloody week only rose to the dignity of a 2% correction, and this off of all-time highs. It certainly felt like worse carnage than that, and it perhaps bears mention that if this here market cannot withstand a two-percent downdraft on a tape that is still evidencing greater than 50% annualized returns, we probably have deeper issues than the current hissy fit between Trump and Xi.

China Cat Investors gathered themselves a bit on Friday, ironically in the afternoon hours of Tariff Day One, on the strength of rather tepid but on balance encouraging warbling from the Prez and his trade cops. China have not imposed retaliatory measures – yet. Next week’s summit is still on, and – best of all – apparently Chairman Xi sent a very lovely note to 45, extending his warm but powerful grip of friendship. So perhaps all is not lost.

The betting line favors the execution of some sort of deal, and I’ll avoid being stubborn and go with the chalk. The benchmark CSI index is off a titch more than its opposite numbers in the U.S.; in fact it has relinquished an eye-popping 24% in just under a month, and for what it’s worth, that particular correction was not from all-time highs, as those realms were last seen, ironically, in 2007, in the run up to that glorious crescendo of the Beijing Olympic hosting session. At that time, the CSI reached nearly 6,000; it’s now resting at a beggarly-by-comparison 37 and change.

All of which, when viewed through a lace bandana, would seem to suggest that the United States has an economic advantage in this here trade throw down. But don’t try to make that suggestion out loud — unless you’re prepared to be clobbered with counterarguments about such matters as the significant domestic political advantage enjoyed by the Chinese leadership. They are, after all, in permanent power, and can do what they want. By contrast, our top elected officials must face the voters in 18 months – an angry mob that won’t tolerate much (or, in fact, any) economic inconvenience.

But I’m not so sure that the counterargument prevails. Yes, Xi and his crew have absolute power, and beyond all of that, their populous is conditioned to accept short-term hardship in pursuit of longer-term gain. However, if that was the whole story, I suspect China would be full-on embracing a final trade showdown with us. If they hit us with everything they’ve got, it’s a shoo-in that we would cave.

So why aren’t they proceeding accordingly? My theory, as mentioned in previous editions, is that Team Xi does not wield as much power in practice as it does on paper. From my distant, largely uninformed point of observation, China looks like an oligarchy – akin to that of those nasty Russians. According to published reports, there are barely a half dozen denizens of that country that can even presume to reside in the Bezos/Buffet wealth zip code, but I suspect that these numbers are highly inaccurate. In the 18-odd years since the country entered the World Trade Organization, selected high rollers have been minting it like there’s no tomorrow. I would posit that a true rendering of Chinese individual wealth would reveal more than one trillionaire, and any number of individuals who could buy out Bezos with money left over for a very nice celebration luncheon.

If I’m correct on this score, it follows that these Fat China Cats want to keep what they have made, and won’t have much patience for an aggressive trade war that will bite into their holding valuations. Moreover, if history is any guide, these folks have hedged their Xi-based bets by placing their own agents in very high-level positions in the military. And let’s face it: it’s the military that matters – not only in China but in the United States as well. When all else fails, it’s the missiles and the bombs that guarantee the obligations of the governments that run the show (after all, what is even a unit of the USD other than a promise from the U.S. Government to back any claims it makes or are made against it?).

This is the reason that I’m pretty convinced that we’ll paper something with our frenemies across the Pacific in a timely fashion. Both sides have bluster, but neither can really back up any of its more hawkish rhetoric with true resolve. The money interests simply won’t abide it.

Of course, it is also true that the papering of a deal would be a largely symbolic exercise. It won’t bind anyone to anything. It will not, cannot be enforced. Post-deal, I suspect it’ll all be business as usual.

Still and all, it’s crucial for everyone that some sort of accord, or, at minimum, détente, is reached, as the alternative is an all-out trade battle where everyone loses. If you check your history books, you will find that many of the most gruesome wars in the history of humanity have begun as trade disputes. So let’s not let this thing get out of hand, ‘kay?

In the meanwhile, I fully expect this whole saga to continue to overwhelm any and all events in the financial news cycle – for at least the next couple of weeks and perhaps beyond. I won’t be particularly enjoying the spectacle, but will seek to endure it with cheerful countenance. If T and X break out their big signing pens, we probably crash through 3,000 like a fist through tissue paper; if they walk away, it’s look out below. But either way, it might not be the worst thing to break out of the 3% range that has sleepily held thus far this quarter.

And there really isn’t much else to report at present. I’m happy to report that the Philadelphia Semiconductor Index (SOX), while taking an unavoidable pounding in the wake of the trade action, is still clinging to a triple digit annualized gain. But just to give you another indication of how important this cross-border commerce is, a friend of mine told me that many Chinese tech companies – including the much-maligned Huawei – have purchased two year’s-worth of chips and other component parts – in fear of being locked out of American markets for an extended period of time. If so, the promise of a Q3/Q4 demand surge – particularly if talks break down – is very much in doubt.

Also, on a completely unrelated note, I came across the following graph, reiterating the troubles plaguing my former home state: the one who just elected a liberal billionaire governor whose plan to save the state is to increase taxes and (of course) issue more debt:

But I now somehow find myself living in the State of Connecticut, which only ranks 4th on this list. They’re talking about raising taxes here as well, which is bound to work like a charm.

But I reckon that’s all I got – for now. Happy Mother’s Day to all of you China Cats out there. And if sunflowers are part of your celebration equation, here’s hoping that they will revert back to reservation pricing before too long.

TIMSHEL

Yes, it’s Cinco de Mayo, that, holiday, er, ginned up by American corporations to goose domestic alcohol consumption. Its pretext involves a commemoration of the impressive, but, on balance transient, victory of the Mexican Army in 1862, over the French Empire, in what is known as the Battle of Puebla. It was indeed a solid win, against the much larger and better fortified forces of Napoleon III. So impressive, in fact, that even 15-odd decades later, it catalyzes more single-day beer-drinking in the United States than any 24-hour period other than Halloween, and, of course, St. Patrick’s Day.

And just in case you doubt this, I’ve got the data to back it up:

A couple of points are worth mentioning here. First, I exclude March Madness because presumably they’re referring to the whole tourney, which unfolds over a 2-3-week period. If I’m correct about this, then NCAA hoops doesn’t even belong on the list! When expressed in daily equivalents, I’m not sure it would outrank Arbor Day.

One would also hope that the 5/5 malted hop consumption does not come at the expense of the more obvious beverage of choice: tequila; ideally Mezcal, and of course with the worm floating in the bottom. Shout outs to all of you worm consumers in my vast readership. All I can add is that you’re a better Mexican than I.

But this column is dedicated not to our southern neighbors, but rather to the French, the losers in the Battle of Puebla showdown. It is they, after all, who coined the term purloined for the title of this piece. They did so, as everyone knows, at a different time in history, nearly eighty years later: a point when they were not the victors, but rather the vanquished; the oppressed, not the oppressors. Despite all Allied efforts to duck the confrontation, the Nazis were, by early 1940, rolling their tanks through the Grand Republic with surprising ease. The surge through the Maginot Line (once thought impenetrable), turned out to be a milk run, and, by the Summer of that year, big old gnarly Swastikas banners were flying atop of the Eiffel Tower and the Hotel de Ville. Everybody assumed it was permanent, and started busting out their German language books, to settle in for a long stretch of Teutonic hegemony.

Well, not everyone. Shortly, a resistance of sorts began to form. It was a spontaneous uprising that turned into a formidable military force under the leadership one Charles de Gaulle. The French Resistance was of course instrumental in the ultimate liberation of their home turf, and helped restore a measure of dignity to that country, so steeped in failure in its efforts to reverse the tide of expansion, and evoke the ultimate collapse of perhaps history’s most famous military bad boys.

In its way, Le Resistance never died. It went underground for many periods, but occasionally it has popped up. About 25 years ago, for instance, I bore witness to a full-scale shutdown of the great city of Paris, as workers took to the streets to protest against the horrors of a workweek that had reached the inhuman duration of 38 hours, and the cruel extension of the retirement age to 60 years.

And of course, L’R has cropped up again in recent months, and in arguably more prominent fashion, in the form of le gilets jaunes – yellow vests – who, over the last half year, have made it a habit of busting out their torches to protest a range of grievances. It all started with rage over what is by any definition a counterproductive, regressive tax on fossil fuel products. But it expands out from there. Les Gilets Jaunes ne sont pas heureuses (they are not happy), and are hell bent on doing something about it. In a recent gesture that should shock everyone but surprise nobody, they came out in full force to express their disgust at the approximate 1 Billion that had been raised by philanthropic interests to restore what may be the best G_D church in all of Christendom.

And, naturally, Les Esprits Du Resistance have traversed the Mighty Atlantic, and have resounded their angry din on these here shores for the better part of the last 2 ½ years. Cries to “Resist” can be heard everywhere, even as those winter caps with the dainty earlike flaps at the top have more or less disappeared from the landscape. These folks are also very angry; maybe angrier than they have been in at least 50 years. They see the country falling apart, and want to fix it – before it’s too late. They see their freedoms disappearing before their eyes, and wonder why some of us don’t see the same. Many of them believe that, like their French forbears, the modern equivalent of Tiger Tanks are rolling down the streets of Washington, and Nazi flags are flying atop the Capitol Building. The irony embedded in the reality that they do so in complete freedom, without fear of retribution or even a loss of social standing, is, apparently, and entirely lost upon them.

Meanwhile, the wheels of the righteous engine of free enterprise roll along, untroubled by the above-mentioned hysteria, or, if troubled by it, not showing itself much worse for the wear and tear. For the most part, Resistance or no, everyone who wishes to do so is waking up each morning, making a show or go of doing their jobs, and even, in some cases, minding their own businesses while so doing. As the clearest case and point of the forgoing, consider the glad tidings of Friday’s Jobs Report. Something in there for nearly everyone’s taste – including the Resistors — who might quibble with the drop in the Labor Force Participation Rate/Average Hours Worked, and the continued tepid showing of any signs of Wage Inflation. Might quibble? Strike that. They already have.

This is perhaps particularly the case in the wake of Chair Pow’s Wednesday FOMC presser. Both stocks and bonds rallied upon release of the “no action” policy statement, but when Jay took to the podium, these asset classes started to bounce around, albeit in narrow ranges, like particle colliders, with each answer to every question. It does seem to me that the Fed is perhaps back in play, or may be so soon. If so, the Jobs Report, with all of its nits and nicks, would trend towards a central bank leerier of economic overheat.

I’ve mentioned this before and I’ll probably do so again: there’s every chance, particularly if the capital economy continues on its current magnificent trajectory, that the Fed itself will act in such a way as to create its own form of Resistance. If so, they’ll meet with some investor-based counter-resistance, and, while such a contingency might cause some pain to investment portfolios, it will nonetheless be entertaining to observe.

But in the meanwhile, equity investors applauded the jobs result, bidding up such indices as the NASDAQ to a record sequence of 18 weekly gains out of 19. The NDX continues to annualize at a greater than 90% return clip, but unfortunately, I think everyone would concede that triple digits for Naz ’19 is probably no longer on the cards. But I’ve some more encouraging news for everyone on this fifth day of the month of May. Specifically, annualized returns for the SOX, the Philadelphia (Philadelphia?) Semiconductor Index, are clocking in at a boffo 153%:

Now, one could argue that this action is positively surreal, and it certainly redounds to the bafflement of virtually anyone to whom I speak that follows these stocks. Most notable among many anomalies is the reality that virtually everyone in the actual industry (i.e. the guys and gals that actually produce the chips) is warning that Q2 is either going to produce a record sales slowdown, or at least close to a record.

Of course, as mentioned previously in these pages, the storyline here is one where Q2 will be a cycle of inventory clearance, after which the world will be buying chips at a rate equivalent to the selling of umbrellas on any NYC street corner this rainy April.

And who am I (or we?) to doubt this rhetoric? And the further good news regarding all of this is that in what is certain to be a 150% up year for the SOX, we’re only 35% of the way into this sequence of luscious returns. So there’s still time for you to get in on the action, but you’d better hurry. 2019 isn’t getting any younger, and neither, for that matter, are you.

For those with less intestinal fortitude, there’s always the Gallant 500, a few percentage points of which actually represents semiconductors, so you wouldn’t be missing out entirely if you chose this more beaten path. Here, though, we’re looking at projected index returns in the beggarly mid-sixties. Adjust your expectations accordingly, mes amis.

One other factor to consider about the Gallant 500 is that it appears at the moment to be at least nominally threatened by The Resistance. Thrice since last September, it has reached or modestly breached its own Maginot Line of 2940, and twice it’s been beaten back from this level. As of Friday’s close, it’s at 2945, and, if it somehow can resist The Resistance, who knows how high it can climb?

So next week shapes up as an interesting one. The data flows begin to decelerate, on both the macro and the earnings calendars, but published reports suggest that this China thing may reach a point of clarity over the next several business days. So there’s that.

However, I suspect that a good bit of next week’s action will be driven by the murky world of technicals. Our favorite indices are at very interesting thresholds, and, according to the history books and chartist manuals, should now either bust through them or beat something of a retreat. I’m not thinking they will foretell of a big upside blowout, but that seems more likely to me than, say, a late September redux, where, as will be recalled, after hitting 2940, the 500 managed to drop 600 excruciating handles over the subsequent ten weeks.

So, in conclusion, all that one can do is reiterate our main theme “Viva Le Resistance”, may it wax or wane. One way or another, we’d be well-advised to know it’s out there, and that it will certainly materialize at some point.

But that’s all I got for now. If I didn’t mention it before, it’s Cinco de Mayo, and I think it’s time for a beer. Anyone care to join me?

I thought so. After all, I’ve checked the data, and it appears that it’s “bottoms up” all around.

TIMSHEL

You Only Live Once, right? At least that’s what they tell us. And if it’s true, well, maybe a submarine is as good a place as any to reside. It may not be for everyone. But in the town… Where I was born…

I reckon you know the rest.

Besides, I’m on a roll with this Beatles stuff. I don’t mind telling you that last week’s The Egg Man piece was a cash cow for me, and one whose udders have yet to run dry. They will run its course eventually, and probably soon. But you don’t mess with a winning formula, as anyone who has accumulated enough years to remember New Coke will gladly tell you.

Beyond this, I got to pondering about the relationship between life’s transience and undersea dwellings as I scanned the lightly reported tidings that on Wednesday, the Russians (yes, them!) launched the world’s largest submarine. Stem to stern, it measures 600 feet, and displaces more water than a WWI battleship. The Ruskies named the vessel Belgorod, which translates into English as White City. It is designed to carry up to four Intercontinental Ballistic Missiles, each of them capable, at minimum, of generating a tsunami of sufficient size to take out an entire coastal region (say the New York, San Francisco of Los Angeles metropolitan regions).

Published reports suggest that Putin watched the launch remotely, from his cozy, above-ground enclave in the Kremlin. And even now, rumors are afloat that that “you know who” was patched into the same feed from his palatial residence in Bedminster NJ (in keeping with his trademark good taste, he is said to have felt the White House to be an inappropriate setting for the viewing of this ceremony).

So if the Belgorod is our YOLO Submarine, it’s not yellow, but white. The sky is still blue and the sea remains green (sort of), but the vibe is certainly less uplifting. The villains of the original Yellow Submarine were the relatively harmless and entirely hapless Blue Meanies, who only wanted to remove music and color from Pepperland. Color schemes notwithstanding, it’s pretty clear to me that the Belgorod has more nefarious latent intent, and, if called into action, its objectives are not likely to be much impeded by four Liverpudlian hippies, no matter how musically gifted they may otherwise be.

With all of this in mind, I am forced to conclude that the jury is still out in terms of the advisability of making one’s home in a submarine (whether Yellow or YOLO), but for the time being, I reckon most of us are still stuck on dry land, with our eyes pointed to the skies. For market types, while there have been gratifying pushes to celestial elevations, it cannot unilaterally be stated that ALL markets are on an upward trajectory. For the most part, it would be well to assume that we’re all still rooted on the soil.

It is true, of course that global equity indices continue their improbably climb towards the heavens. I perhaps need not waste much space on reporting that, as prophesied in these pages, our Gallant 500 has now planted its flag on the new high ground of ~2940. It is flanked, of course, by its comrade: Captain NAZ, which, despite the huge force of the unleashing of its afterburners, remains 10 skinny index points (~0.13%) below its point of zenith – mostly because it took a bigger beat down in Q4 ’18, and had further to travel to eclipse its previous highs. However, in terms of one particular metric – annualized return — NAZ is blowing the 500 away. As of Friday’s close, the Good Captain is projecting out a 97% full-year gain for 2019, which embarrassingly blows away the beggarly-by-comparison SPX trajectory of 68.3%. Both, however, are wiping the floor with General Dow, which: a) is registering a laughably small ytd gain of < 15%, and b) is throwing off an embarrassingly infinitesimal annualized rate of approximately 50%.

On the other hand, we can perhaps cut the Old General some slack, seeing as how its main component (Boeing) is only barely emerging from dual incidents in which it inadvertently converted its signature flying machines into submarines.

And elsewhere across the global capital economy, there remains some palpable gravitational pull. German Bund yields, after a valiant attempt to traverse sea level, are again in modest negative territory. Rates last week were indeed under pressure across the globe, as were virtually all major currencies not painted in green and graced with the image of dead presidents. The Euro in particular is feeling the pinch, closing Friday at its lowest level against the USD in two years. This notwithstanding, published reports indicate that speculative interests are lining up against the EUR, and playing for further carnage.

Commodities are also at subterranean levels, particularly on a relative basis. The week ended badly in the Energy Complex, and if you haven’t looked at the Grains lately, well, trust me, you might not want to. But what is really pushing the buttons of the smart guys I know, is the shocking underperformance of commodities (again, the stuff we actually eat, wear, burn and build with) versus the stock market:

Now, admittedly, I’m running a risk here by presenting a graph that eerily resembles last week’s colorful-but-obtuse egg chart. For purposes of clarity, I’d draw your attentions to the “sea of green” lower half, which measures the spread between the SPX and the Bloomberg Commodity Index. It implies the following reality: as of now, a single unit of the SPX will purchase about twice the amount of foodstuffs, fossil fuels and metals as it did a mere five years ago. And one can only point to a single explanation here: again on a relative basis, we appear to be blessed with an abundance of resources that have designated purpose in the economy, and a shortage of assets the ownership of which is designated by and large to generate returns of the filthy lucre variety.

Investors don’t seem to want to want to own Commodities at any price, particularly on a speculative basis, and all I can do is wonder if, at that point when we decide — once and for all — to migrate to our YOLO Submarine, we might not want to load up on some wheat, corn, and maybe even cotton.

Specs are also lining up against the VIX, which is testing multi-quarter lows, even as short positions continue to amass at record levels:

One wonders what possibly go wrong here? Equity indices are flying high in miraculous recovery from a dismal end to 2018. Valuations are at record levels and volatility is deeply suppressed.

So what’s the easiest trade out there? Well, obviously it involves going short the most impaired risk factor across the entire capital markets. If the VIX goes to zero, these short players will certainly have reason to celebrate. Of course, the VIX may not actually go to zero, but why dwell on that unpleasant contingency?

Meanwhile, I think all of us land dwellers have cause to give thanks for the bounty of good news that has come our way across the first trimester of 2019 (which, by the way, was a very timely point for happy tidings to arrive). We’re now about half way through Q1 earnings, and, while they’ve not exactly been gangbusters, they have arguably given the lie to those who were projecting Armageddon in these realms. It’s another big week for reporting – in many ways the last big sequence of the cycle, with names such as Apple, Alphabet and McDonalds stepping up to the podium. Now, normally, I wouldn’t care about McD’s; I haven’t choked down a Big Mac in about two decades. But after Coca Cola’s surprising upside blowout, I’m not so sure. Anyway, in general, the massive downward profits boot has not yet materialized, and the longer that we can stave off this inevitable, the better we will feel about ourselves.

And then there’s the macro stuff. Everyone should be pleased about the better than expected New Home Sales number (‘tis the selling season after all), and then, of course, Q1 GDP was at least superficially a blowout. To be sure, there was some fluff in the 3.2% print. The American Yankees got a rare and perhaps unsustainable win against the world on trade, and there was a justifiably concerning buildup of inventories, which must be depleted lest they are kept gathering dust in warehouses, and threatening to vex us all. But again, any fair analysis must also contemplate the performance against some headwinds we encountered, particularly the partial government shutdown, which was supposed by many to foretell recession. In general, as compared to the dire prognostications that were all the rage around the holidays, I think we can all be understandably pleased with the continued vitality of the domestic economy.

So we end the trimester of ’19 with equities at or beyond previous record valuations, a docile financing environment that in future cycles will most certainly cause us to look back with wonder, commodities on deep offer, and the USD sustaining remarkable vigor. My friends, old as I am, I feel comfortable in conveying that I’ve seen worse conditions for risk-taking in my time. MUCH worse.

And I reckon that the party will continue for a bit longer – mostly because I don’t find anything on the visible horizon to stop it. By purely Newtonian logic, we could be poised for another material leg up. Moreover, if, absent some paradigm-shifting dynamic entering the equation, the market happened to sell off here, I am convinced that many investors would view it as a buying opportunity.

From my perspective, this here market looks like one of those environments where everyone is praying for a 4%-5% pullback so they can buy more. When this form of sentiment prevails, said 4%-5% pullback almost never transpires. Instead, valuations climb higher, until the inevitable happens, and the correction is 2x to 3x (or worse) what everyone wants. This is a pattern that repeats itself (or, to paraphrase Churchill, “rhymes” itself) over and over again. In fact, it kind of reminds me of the late summer of 2018, and I don’t need to remind you what happened after that.

Over a slightly longer time horizon, I suspect that we need look no further than the Fed to identify the source of the next round of carnage. They will meet this week, and announce nothing of import, but if the equity markets continue to soar like they have, at some point they’re gonna reverse course, among other reasons because they’re sneaky sumb!tches that none of us should trust. But I don’t reckon their treachery is imminent. And, given that we only live once, I suggest we enjoy the good times while they prevail.

But I’d do my celebrating on dry land if I were you. The Yellow Submarine is still out there, 50 years after its maiden voyage. But so too is the Belgorod, with friends soon to be living next door.

If I’m right about this, it might be fair to conclude that the concept of a YOLO Submarine, is, at least for the time being, little better than an oxymoron. Let’s thus try to make the best of our landlocked condition.

TIMSHEL