The Way We Live Now: dancing naked. Forever, hopefully! Of course we know that the music stops eventually. But before it does, we need a new house, a new portfolio, and a new economy. And junk food, on a train.
"If you can borrow money at basically zero percent interest and invest it in assets that rise in value, you have to stay on that train," explains Carl Richards, and we couldn't have said it better ourselves even if it were the case that we knew something about economics. As long as that cheap money's floating around, everybody needs to keep ridin' that night train, and baby don't let me off till we reach Georgia, which in this case is symbolic of at least Dow 15K.
This is a train that goes around the world, people. Papua New Guinea's getting so damn rich they don't even know what do with themselves (but we do). This train, which humanity is riding naked in pursuit of economic perfection, is not like the train that you took to Nashville when you were eight; it's a virtual train, and when this train runs over the housing market, baby, people start buying in Detroit and stockpiling gold and the biggest capitalists on earth start begging for government intervention. When this virtual naked money train meets our so-called "information economy," brother, you better watch out, because the sheer power wage increase-powering inherently possible in these two dynamics is potentially dynamic, squared.
The stock rally is a mandatory train to be ridden, unclothed, by the imaginary citizens of our virtual economy, until not one of us is able to stand due to the massive ball of credit-financed junk food congealing in our ample bellies, a painful and portly reminder of our own radically risky inability to tear ourselves away from the train-based platter of "easy credit food" that clogs our econometric arterial landscape, making its way down our collective gullets even as we rue our inability to put a stop to the inexorable march of debt-engorged doom waves, unto our nation's shores.