Lately we’ve been less focused watching the market numbers and more concerned with analysis: Did Alan Greenspan cry himself to sleep last night? Will bankers start popping Cymbalta? Does Neel Kashkari’s wife let him have a special, sanctioned Dude Space in the garage where, when things get tough, he can retreat to be alone with his Ferrari posters and Rush cassettes? We’ve been so focused on the human cost that we’ve not been freaking out about the specific ups and downs quite as much this week. It’s all crap anyhow, right? And in accepting that, it’s almost like everything’s gotten a little … quiet.
Well, no more of that! The rest of the world has been fixated with watching their money disappear for hours now: German and French indexes are down around 10 percent this morning while Britain’s slid 8.6 percent — combined with a dropping GDP in the third quarter, they’re now on the brink of a recession. Meanwhile, Japan’s Nikkei dropped 9.6 percent. And back here on the ranch, Wall Street futures are down 550 points, which, at the maximum daily price change, means traders are wagering as much as possible on shit getting ugly. Kind of like betting the farm on the collapse of the farm itself.
