Pearl of the Quarter

Posted on July 1, 2018August 24, 2018 by steve

On the water down in New Orleans, my baby is the pearl of the quarter,

She’s a charmer like you never seen, singing voulez voulez voulez vous,

Where the sailor spends his hard-earned pay, red beans and rice for a quarter,

You can see her almost any day, singing voulez voulez voulez vous,

I walked alone down the Miracle Mile, I met my baby by the Shrine of the Martyr,

She stole my heart with her Cajun smile, singing voulez voulez voulez vous,

She loved the million dollar words I say, she loved the candy and the flowers that I bought her

She said she loved me and was on her way, singing voulez voulez voulez vous

— Donald Fagen/Walter Becker

A little Steely Dan on this hot, pre-holiday weekend? How ‘bout it kids? Well, anyway, it’s my call, and I say yes.

“Pearl of the Quarter” is merely one of the gem’s on the Dan boys’ 1973 “Countdown to Ecstasy” LP, the second in a string of remarkable albums, recorded over a 5-year period in the early ‘70s. The sequence begins with “Can’t Buy a Thrill”, continues on to “Ecstasy”, then soars through “Pretzel Logic”, “Katy Lied” and “The Royal Scam”. My own view is that the quality of the songwriting dropped from that point on. However, many disagree, feeling that the group’s subsequent release: “Aja”, was their finest work. But you can take that record, along with your Big Black Cow and Crimson Tide, and get out of here. There are a few sublime moments on “Aja’s” follow up: “Gaucho” (1980), but that’s about it. They didn’t hit the studio for the next 20 years, and the produced two forgettable albums around the turn of the century. Then, as I believe was a wise move on their part, they cashed in by touring for about a decade and a half (the only way even the Stones or McCartney make money these days). And now Walter Becker is dead. So it goes.

But oh those first five albums! We could’ve chosen to honor SD by featuring virtually any track contained therein. “Pearl” however, is among my faves, telling the age-old story of a loney guy falling head over ears for a Cajun prostitute in the French Quarter of the Crescent City. Her allure is irresistible, and yes, she loves him (or at least tells him so). But in her inscrutable way, she knows she must spread her love around. He knows it too.

Voulez, voulez voulez vous?

But of course, we have other reasons to home in on “POTC”. Friday, after all, marked the end of an interesting, but on the whole, frustrating, second quarter of 2018.

Across the three-month cycle, there weren’t many pearls about which to report, at least from an investment perspective. And I certainly have a personal beef with its swansong, which made hash out of a prediction of mine that the equity markets were poised for a rally.

But rally they did not. Yeah, after a horrific start, they threw me a small bone as the week wound down, picking up a skinny half a percent in the last two sessions. But their hearts weren’t in it. Friday morning, and on the back of a slight ratcheting down of the China thing, they gathered themselves for an energetic climb, but, as I suspected at the time, they lost their vitality in the afternoon. The Gallant 500 did manage to gin up a 0.3% gain for the April-June interval, and at least this is better than Q1, which socialized a loss of slightly smaller magnitude. Thus, despite an historic tax cut, an earnings cycle that has shattered records, and various other hope-inspiring catalysts, Mr. Spoo now tips the scales at +1.67%.

Of course, it could’ve been worse, and, in fact is — across most of the planet. To wit, of the ~20 indices tracked on Bloomberg’s ubiquitous World Equity Index (WEI) page, the SPX is the only one that has earned the right to paint its performance in green:

Sure, we could turn our attentions to happier environs, including those haunted by the indomitable Captain Naz (+8.79%) or Ensign Russell (+7.00% but falling fast). And certainly the news has, on balance, been positive for the holders of 10-year notes (and, lately) the USD, but I’m gonna go the whole route here and suggest to the Market Gods that, with half of the year now in the books, I’m just a tad bit disappointed.

But the Market Gods most certainly operate in mysterious ways, and who are us mere mortals to question these?

We’re entering what is likely to be a sloppy week, and I think I can speak for the market-obsessed masses when I suggest that Wednesday is the least productive day to celebrate American Independence. Most of us would prefer to either get it over with earlier, or postpone it to the end of the week so we can chop some wood before giving our shout-outs to the Stars and Stripes.

But the Julian Calendar was established well before most of you were even twinkles in the collective eyes of your forebears, so I reckon we’ll just have to live with that. Those of us who plan to return to our posts after the last Roman Candle has burned out will no doubt turn collective attention to next Friday’s Jobs Report, where the base rate is expected to hold steady at 3.8% and195K new private gigs are anticipated. The real action, though, is likely to revolve around Average Hourly Earnings, and the testing of the hypothesis of whether or not wage gain acceleration is, or ever can be, part of the picture.

This may be even more important than usual, because, as has been the case so often in recent years (and proven wrong each time), a big concern for us pointy-headed types is whether the indefatigable American Consumer might, at long last, be running out of steam. About the only interesting macro number that dropped last week was a surprising downward shift in Personal Consumption Expenditures, expected to clock in at +3.7%, but only managing to reach a tepid +2.7%. So alarming (to some at any rate) was this miss that it caused the recently high flying GDPNow Index to undertake an unsettling nosedive:

But what the Atlanta Fed taketh away, the Atlanta Fed can surely giveth back. And one thing that would almost surely invigorate both our domestic shoppers and give a boost to the broader measures of economic performance would be some evidence that pay raises, long promised, are actually manifesting.

There are indications, however, that the market doesn’t believe this to be the case – none more visible than the continued rally in global bonds, which also went against my recent call, and which now have tethered 10 year yields to a rather pedestrian 2.86%.

For those tracking such matters, yes, Generalissimo Francisco Franco is still dead, and 10 Year Swiss Notes are still offered at negative yields.

Once we get through the holiday and the Jobs Report, we can, the following week, turn our attention to highly anticipated Q2 earnings. The early returns have been good, but of course investors have not been overly impressed; otherwise the indices would have done what I ordered and rallied.

But c’mon, people.! Estimates for the quarter are the 2nd best (i.e. after Q1) since the crash, and have actually, been rising across the last three months. This, as indicated in the following chart, is something of an anomaly:

Current P/E’s, at 16.1, are below the 5-year average but above the 10-year mean. But please; the latter takes us back to the period covering the crash and the recovery, and are hardly reflective of what might be expected across today’s strong economic environment, with very favorable financing conditions, and an awful lot of companies putting up astonishing – and still expanding – bottom line performance.

So, though chastened by my misdeeds over the last couple of weeks, I continue to project the near-term balance of the risks in the equity markets to be shaded to the upside.

And, in closing, here’s hoping that Q3 generates more pearls than what was served up to us in Q2. However, this is most certainly out of our hands. After all, sometimes you walk alone down that Miracle Mile; sometimes you do so in the most pleasant of company. And sometimes the pearls we find are artifacts of God’s perfection, while other times they are Cajun women of easy virtue, singing “voulez voulez voulez vous”.

Either way, we take what we can get, because there’s really nothing else for us to do. So we carry our lovingly purchased flowers and candy, and utter our million dollar words, often to no avail. But we return, each day, to the Shrine of the Martyr, hoping for the best.

I reckon I’ll see you there, next week. In the meantime, I bid you a happy holiday, and, as always, a heartfelt…

TIMSHEL

Mondo Fugazi

Posted on April 22, 2018August 24, 2018 by steve

Welcome to Mondo Fugazi, my friends, where Fugazis abound – so much so that some of the Fugazis are actually Fugazi Fugazis, and are thus actually the real thing. Look around. Stay as long as you like. Stay forever if you will. But stay on your toes, because in Mondo Fugazi, the bona fide and the implausible blend into a dizzying vortex, which, if you’re not careful, could suck you dry.

Fugazi, of course, is the Italian vernacular word for Fake. However, in general, I prefer the former, mostly because of the way it trips off the tongue. Try it yourself: say Fugazi out loud a few times. My guess is that you will never use the word Fake again.

We’re all tired of the English word anyway, right? Let’s begin, for instance, with the wearisome, dubious and oxymoronic concept of Fake News. I’m just sick of hearing about it, and, if pushed I’d go so far as to state my belief that Fake News is itself a Fugazi. Using the full-on Italian phrase: Notiza Fugazi – helps, but only a little. Besides, we’ve got Fugazi issues that extend well beyond Notazi. So let’s start to unpack them, shall we?

I wish to begin with Fake IDs, or, if you will, Identificaziones Fugazi. A long time ago, I was something of an expert on this topic. Wishing, around age 16, to prematurely join the adult world in those most meaningful of ways – purchasing alcohol and patronizing bars — my friends and I all thought it would be a swell idea to obtain identification suggesting we were older than we were. Our first sojourns in this realm took us to the iconic Maxwell Street, the open air marketplace on Chicago’s Near South Side (For the uninitiated, please refer to the Aretha Franklin sequence in “The Blues Brothers”). There, after making discreet inquiries, we were ushered to a beat up trailer, owned by a middle aged African American gentleman who had suffered severe burn damage across his face. He snapped our pictures and typed some information (including changing our birthdates) on to orange cards, ran them through a laminating machine, and charged each of us 10 big ones for the service.

We were ecstatic, but, predictably, the ruse didn’t work very well. A lot of bouncers laughed at us, and one actually confiscated our cards. So we were forced to move to Plan B. This took the form of surgically altering our driver’s licenses, by flipping the 9 (we were all born in 1959) into a 6. The strategy worked for a while, but eventually the bouncers got wise. They’d shine a flashlight on our official IL DLs, see the holes, and send us away to raid our fathers’ liquor cabinets.

At that point, there seemed to to do but wait out the unforgiving calendar. But then the unthinkable happened. Just as my 18th birthday was approaching, Illinois raised its drinking age to 21, adding 3 years to my hiatus. I took this very personally, and it was time for all-out war. I’m not particularly proud of this, but I was forced to resort to bona fide identity theft. Somehow, I was able, in addition to my restored driver’s license, to obtain an Official State ID (with my mug in the upper right hand corner) in the name of one Kenneth Costigan, a real guy whose birthday was sometime in September of 1956. Here, not only had I solved my most vexing longstanding problem, but I gained the added benefit of being able to walk into bars in my college turf of Madison, WI, and demand a free drink on my Fake ID birthdays. One Mad Town bartender was a bit stingy, and didn’t want to come across, but I insisted. So he poured me a shot of what I thought was standard (if bottom shelf) Vodka, which turned out to be 190-proof Pure Grain Alcohol.

I fell immediately ill and stayed in bed for the following week. And this, my friends, cured me of such proclivities. I have NOT turned back since, and had not even thought of the concept for many years. But recently, I have found myself the victim of a new form of Fake ID chicanery. Specifically, through the marvelous conveyance of CALLER ID (for which Verizon hits me for an extra couple of bucks), I can see, at the point of first ring, who’s trying to reach me. Unfortunately, a depressingly large number of my incoming calls are unwanted solicitations for such products as extended warranties on cars I don’t own, refinancing plans on outstanding student loan debt that I managed somehow to retire in 1992, and instant access lines of credit. OK; fine. I get it. I’m a capitalist through and through, and believe (albeit with some caveats) in the principles of caveat emptor. However, many recent calls show IDs clearly intended to deceive. Just in the last couple of weeks, my phone has been lit up with caller identifications that have included Fox News, New York Presbyterian Hospital, Music Mogul Clive Davis (who still owes me a major label recording contract) and even actor Lloyd Bridges (who died in 1998).

With respect to the last of these, when the phone rang, instead of Lloyd’s golden pipes, my ears were assaulted by the recording of a female voice speaking rapidly in what I am assuming was Spanish, but can’t be sure. I tested my theory by shouting Fugazi, but her only response was to hang up on me.

So Identificazione Fugazi has clearly entered the information age, and it strikes me that there’s too much of this type of thing going on lately.

***********

I returned from dinner on Friday night to a phone notification that the North Koreans had suspended large portions of their nuclear testing programs. Was this Notazi Fugazi? Only time will tell, I suppose. All the news outlets confirmed the report, so perhaps there’s something there. But I recognize that the next time a welcoming proclamation issues forth from L’il Kim or his forebears is followed up with constructive action will be the first, so I’m a l’il skeptical on that score.

I am wondering how the markets will react to these tidings, but it’s the weekend so I really don’t know. Certainly it shades towards the accretive, but in Mondo Fugazi, one never knows.

As we retired on Friday, the Equity Complex had bounced around over the preceding week with little to show for its efforts:

But one element, of the action, the technicals, has a strong ring of non-Fugazi authenticity. Over the past several weeks, the Gallant 500 has dropped twice to the menacing breach of the 200 Day Moving Average, only to bounce jauntily in the aftermath. Conversely, the index has clawed back towards the 50 and 100 Day thresholds, it has been beaten back like a little you know what.

This here looks like a tough channel to break. Equity Markets appear to like the 2650 – 2700 range, and despite the somewhat Fugazi-like concerns about excessive volatility, it’s unclear to me that it is likely to break out in either direction any time soon. On the other hand, we’re in the middle of a content-rich information cycle, so stay tuned.

After a long hiatus, however, there appears to finally be some action in other Asset Classes. Over the last several sessions, yields on the U.S 30 Year Note careened past the 3% threshold, and even those precious Swiss Bonds sold off back into positive rate territory. The USD enjoyed its strongest week of the year, and commodities remain in play – mostly on upside.

Seemingly out of nowhere, All God’s Children are now concerned about the slope of the Yield Curve, which indeed have flattened to Olive Oyl thresholds, at both the short and long end of the maturity spectrum:

The Long Short and Flat of It: 2s/10s:

10s/30s:

Textbook economic analysis suggests that such trends are indicators of weaker economic conditions on the near-term horizon. However, here in Mondo Fugazi, I believe we may need to throw out the textbooks, and look to a new roadmap. Specifically, I feel that the relationship between short and long-term Treasury debt has decoupled, and that as such, we must look to each component separately.

It strikes me that with respect to the faster-approaching maturities, a number of factors should work to suppress prices and place upward pressure on yields. We begin of course with stated Fed policy to lift rates, and even they would tell you that all of their juice is on the short end. In addition, as the Fed goes about the righteous path of reducing its gargantuan Balance Sheet, its main tool is allowing shorter term notes to mature without repurchase, in the process removing perhaps the most important buyer from the near-term equation. Heroic efforts have been made in this respect over the last year, with the value of the Fed’s Holdings plunging from $4.48T to the current $4.38T. That may not look like much in percentage terms, and in fact it’s not; it’s just a little over 2%. But it is a divestiture to the tune of $100B, and to yet again paraphrase the late, great Everett McKinley Dirksen (R, IL): $100 Billion here, $100 Billion there and it all starts to add up to real money.

Almost all of this reduction has transpired at the short end, and, of course, we still have a long way to go, because, even those 30 year bonds whose maturities look like dots in the distance will someday become short-dated notes.

Finally, with respect to near term Treasury obligations, you should be made aware that Mnuchin and Company are planning to auction off $275B of freshly minted obligations this week – almost all of them with maturities of two years or less. By my count this will bring total 2018 issuance to the threshold of $1 Trillion, and we’re not even 1/3rd of the way through this infernal year yet.

If this bothers you, I suggest you write your Congressman or President who green-lighted our monstrosity of a budget, and, in doing so, if you invoke the memory of the fiscally conservative Senator Dirksen, you’ll get no complaint from me.

Moving on to the longer-dated end of the curve, we face something of a stickier wicket. Most believe that on balance, the economy would benefit from higher extended rates, but it has been nearly impossible to effect this in the markets. Reasonable minds can disagree over root causes, but clearly the opacity of inflation trends are a contributing factor. In addition, it is my belief that all of that global QE has created a financial dynamic where there’s more money sloshing around than low-risk places to put it. Thus, for what seems like eons, no matter how much long-term debt a given developed country wishes to issue, it gets hoovered up in ravenous fashion.

So I think there are divergent dynamics at play across the yield maturity spectrum, with multiple factors causing upward yield pressure on shorter term securities, while improbable supply shortages bring gravitational pull to bear at the longer end.

For what it’s worth, I also continue believe that, at 50,000 feet, there’s a shortage of stocks as well, but I’ve backed off on mentioning this in light of the heightened volatility manifested over the last rolling quarter. Stocks can be risky (or so I’m told), and therefore subject to more capricious pricing patterns. For now, the risk premium remains sufficiently elevated to counter the supply/demand imbalance. But imagine a world where our two political parties were not intent on blowing each other up, where our two historical adversaries (Russia and China) were not causing us untold aggravation and perhaps worse, where everybody minded their business and tried to do the best they could. Now take a look at the following charts:

Yes, Profit Margins are accelerating while P/E ratios are reverting to normalized levels. I dream of opportunity in these images, and I’m not the only one.

But unfortunately we must operate in the real world, which at least at present is a Mondo Fugazi. So take care. And now, if you’ll excuse me, I must take my leave. The phone is ringing and my screen says it’s Kenneth Costigan. I suspect that he wants his identity back, and, having no more use for it personally, I’d be happy to comply.

If only I could be sure that it was really him on the line.

TIMSHEL

Joining the Band

Posted on April 15, 2018August 24, 2018 by steve

Join The Band

Hey Lordy… (join the band, be good rascal…)

Hey join the band, be good rascal and join the band

Hey Lordy…

Join the band, be a good rascal and join the band

Oh huh oh ho ho ho

— Little Feat

Don’t you think the moment has come? To join the band, I mean? There are worse ways to spend your time, you know, and when Little Feat’s late and lightly lamented Lowell George asks, I believe we owe it to him to respond favorably – even four decades after the initial request.

So, even at this late date, I am inclined to take up Lowell’s invitation. However, one problem remains: which band should I join? It’s not as though I am flooded with offers; the plain truth is that I have had none. And believe me, this hurts, because these days I can really shred. In fact, I’d go so far as to say that I’d be a major asset to any ensemble fixated on the rolling decade between 1965 and 1974, and, in the right group (i.e. one that: a) narrowed its focus to 1968 through 1972; and b) let me do exactly what I wanted), I could be great.

But at my advanced age, I have learned that delusion is risky and even sometimes fatal, and this forces me to face the possibility that no rock and roll outfit will have me. However, there’s more than one kind of band to join, so I’ve chosen to take a different course, affiliating more assertively with that band of brothers and sisters that form the global financial blogosphere. It’s not as though I haven’t contributed to their catalogue; the consistent production of these weeklies, and subsequent posting to the web is, in itself a testament to my longstanding affiliation with the blog bros. But, my friends, like so many other matters, it comes down to a matter of degree. I’m going to be doing more with them, and whether I become a full-fledged member of the group, or, like Darryl Jones, who has ably managed the base lines for the Rolling Stones for a period longer than founder Bill Wyman but has never achieved full membership, linger as a side man, remains out of my hands.

Please know that I don’t take this step without due consideration. I am solemnly aware that, over the baker’s dozen years that I’ve been pumping out these weeklies, missing nary a one, through sickness and health, triumph and tragedy, that you (the reader) and me (the scribe) have developed a sacred, unshakeable bond. It would nauseate me beyond measure to think that any step I could possibly take would weaken, let alone sever, these ties. Please know that you will continue to receive these missives, under the same timelines, and based upon the identical format – one that as you know, features my often futile efforts to gather what remains of my wandering wits.

That being stated, the chattering voices inside my head have convinced me that a wider audience beckons, and that I must answer the call. So if you observe me blogging, tweeting (under the rather generic handle of @KenGrantGRA) you will have two choices. You can consider this an unacceptable betrayal on my part (I will love you no less if you do), or you can give me a pass.

Oh yeah, there is one other alternative available to you: you can join the band, the @KenGrantGRA Band, accompanying me on my virtual journey through soaring arena anthems, destroyed hotel rooms, mud sharks and other such delights.

There’s room for you (and any friends you might wish to invite) on the @KenGrantGRA Tour Bus, and Cowboy Neil (at the wheel) will pull over and let you off at any point of your own choosing. Do me a favor and think about it, OK?

*******************

Whether you believe me or not, the plain truth is that I hate to write about politics. I find it an unproductive, loser’s game. I tell myself that I have held more or less to the discipline of only doing so through the filter of political impacts on risk conditions. But you’ll have to make your own judgments as to how well I’ve actually adhered to this protocol, and how rigidly I’ll stick to the discipline going forward.

One way or another, I believe that politics hover over current market conditions in a highly menacing fashion, so this week, and perhaps for a spell going forward, I must at least move towards the borderlands of my pledge. By my judgement, Trump had by far his worst political week since he put his hand on that bible, amid so much protest, almost exactly five quarters ago. Let’s dispatch with the easily analyzed events first. Paul Ryan announced he’s stepping down at the end of his term, and, any way you look at it, this is not a positive development for the Administration. I’ve always liked my Janesville boy, and think he was one of the very few competent members of Congress. He did his homework, did his work, and, through a number of hits and misses, actually got things done. And I ask this to anyone in favor of any part of Trump’s legislative agenda: where we’d be now without his steady hand? But he’s riding off, taking the certified Republican House Majority down to a slim 22. Also, and, ominously (at least in a symbolic fashion), his departure means that nearly half (10 out of 21) Congressional Committee Chairs have now stepped down, and, given that it’s only April, that number could rise.

More chilling was the raid on Trump lawyer Michael Cohen’s office and home by those fluffy fellows from the Office of the United States Attorney Southern District of New York. Acting on a referral from Special Counsel Robert Mueller, they forced their way into Attorney Cohen’s private professional and personal lairs, and seized pretty much anything that wasn’t nailed down. Subsequent reports indicate that he’d been under investigation by the Southern District for criminal activity for several months, but the timing and the methods turn my blood to ice. Federal prosecutors have many methods to procure information from investigation targets, most notably their subpoena powers, and raids are the most aggressive of these tools. Typically, this type of thing is only justified when the target is either a flight risk (which Cohen clearly was not), or information suggests he was committing serious crimes on an on-going basis. So I hope for all our sakes, that whatever impelled the G-Men to give Cohen the Manafort Treatment be disclosed in short order. And it better be good.

Because, and I state this more in sorrow than in anger, attorney client privilege is so embedded in basic human rights as to not even require inclusion in the Constitution. It dates back to the Elizabethan Era, and is a core part of British Common law upon which our Constitution is based. We are now headed down a very slippery slope on the treacherous terrain of civil liberties, and however much you may be enraged by Trump, I urge you to bear in mind that someday, you yourself might need a good lawyer, who, if we’re not careful, may have his professional materials seized. At which point they won’t be of any use to you. If this ever happens (and I pray that it doesn’t), it’ll probably be lights out for your case. Of course, this won’t apply to everyone. If you happen to be very rich, powerful and aligned with the appropriate forces, not only will your private realms not be raided, but you will have the prerogative to respond to subpoenas by simply decided what, of the information demanded, you choose to share.

The deal struck between the Southern District and the Special Counsel is such that anything the former uncovers that might be useful to the latter will be referred back to them. And here’s where I can at least plausibly make my case of tying the political to the financial. Anyone who had a shadow of a doubt that Mueller is going for the jugular should disabuse themselves of this fantasy at the earliest convenient opportunity. There’s an end game afoot here, set to play out over the immediate months ahead, and I believe it behooves the risk sensitive to bear this in mind as they seek to navigate through these choppy market waters. Because I don’t think the markets will much like the action, however it turns out.

But equities, notwithstanding these and other worrisome events, gathered themselves in gratifying fashion this past week, with the SPX bouncing jauntily off of its 200-Day Moving Average yet again, and now resting in the friendlier confines of its 50 and 100 day equivalents. One might be tempted to ascribe the bounce to giddiness about earnings, and I’ve seen estimates of growth rise to the dignity of ~20%. But I’d be careful here. A large contingent of big banks reported on Friday (JPM, Citi, Wells, PNC) and despite ALL of them beating both profit and revenue estimates by a comfortable margin, EACH sold off in the wake of their announcements by >2%. This suggests that the bar is very high for a paradigm involving strong earnings being followed by shares being bid up.

Volatility has indeed risen in the equity markets, but perhaps a little perspective here is in order. The combination of renewed price action after the vol paralysis of last year, and a rally that has increased the denominators associated with percentage moves, may be creating the illusion that the Equity Complex is in hyper-volatility mode. However, statistics offer a different story. While February and April brought some truly noteworthy action, across the course of 2018, we’re still only looking at a standard deviation of SPX returns in the mid to high teens, which is about the norm in the modern market era. So the equity market has become more volatile, but not alarmingly so, and while it is likely to continue to rise, in percentage terms, it’s important to remember that we’re pretty much at historical norms. And in terms of options volatility, last week’s selloff in the VIX took this benchmark to under 17.5 – right about its median for the lifetime of this eccentric index.

However, in a continuation of a highly vexing pattern, non-equity asset classes remain stuck in the volatility mud. The following chart, coming to you through the courtesy of those dedicated public servants at Goldman Sachs, Inc., illustrates what it looks like when one asset class awakes from a winters-long hibernation, while others remain in blissful slumber:

I’m not entirely sure what this correlation drop implies, but it doesn’t strike me as the kind of breakdown that the ghost of Tom Petty could reasonably describe as being “alright”.

Meanwhile, as cross-asset class correlations have migrated to decade plus lows, the story is quite different within the equity complex. Here, correlations, have spiked dramatically, again as illustrated by those talented graphic artists in residence at Goldman:

Among other things, one might wish to review other periods when stock correlations took an abrupt leap forward, and the intrepid among you might choose to superimpose equity index graphs on the image. I myself am either to frightened or have too much sensitivity for my readers to connect the dots here.

It may be the case that the jump in stock correlations is more easily explained than the drop in the cross-asset class correlation metric.

To wit: there’s a great deal to worry us in current affairs that has little to do with the relative fortunes of individual companies. For one thing, us Yanks got together with the French and Brits to lob some bombs into Syria this weekend. I don’t know what impact this will have on the markets, and won’t know till at least Sunday night, so I won’t opine upon this development.

More visible is the trade war of words currently under way. No one knows how this will resolve itself, but let’s just agree that it’s a risky proposition. Certainly, the Energy Markets have taken notice, bidding up Brent Crude to a 3-year high, and even the long-suffering, ag-heavy Continuous Commodity index has shown indications of higher pricing:

Strong Trade Winds: Crude And Commodities

Thus, as anticipated, we are in what I believe to be the early innings of a high impact information cycle. My best advice is to temper your investment enthusiasm and add a healthy measure of reactivity. There are opportunities developing, but they will require all of your talents and energies to capture them. You may also wish to place an extra focus on risk management.

So maybe it’s as good a time as any for me to step up my whole blogging game. Lowell George asked for our participation, but he’s been dead for nearly 40 years, and we need to make use of the tools that are at our current disposal. Please, in any event, don’t judge me too harshly for my expanded electronic footprint. And, if the spirit moves you, be a good rascal and join my band.

TIMSHEL