The stock market tanked Monday. By now, that’s almost old news. All it takes is a few days before pundits and news anchors have drilled a story to the point where the public is just tired of hearing about it.
But hear about it you will, America, because it matters.
Not only did the market tank, it tanked spectacularly. It set tanking records.
The DOW dropped 777 points in one day, the biggest point drop in its 38-year history.
From a percentage standpoint, Monday’s tankage was even more dynamic than the dip after Sept. 11, or the massive crash that plunged 1930s America into the Great Depression. Yes folks, Sept. 29, 2008, beat those dark days in the realm of market tankdom.
It’s good to be Number One, isn’t it?
Watching the news unfold Monday gave me an ulcer, but I quickly started counting my blessings. Who would have thought having next-to-no capital and zero investments would eventually be a plus for my family?
I found myself being grateful for my broke-ness, especially after speaking with friends who lost several thousands of dollars between lunch and quittin’ time. For the first time in my life, I was genuinely thankful to have had no money to lose.
The people I have spoken with since The Great Financial Egg Drop have had wildly different opinions. Some are running scared, pulling all their money out of banks and portfolios and stuffing their mattresses with it. Others have unyielding faith in the free market and haven’t broken much of a sweat.
I think I stand a little left of the middle. Up until lunchtime Monday, I would have boldly proclaimed the free market’s ability to triumph over any puny recession. But numbers don’t lie, and as a former C-student in algebra, numbers scare me.
When asked to trust in the free market right now, I can’t help but compare our situation to other risky endeavors, such as trusting a gun isn’t loaded after you watched it blow a hole through your neighbor’s foot.
So I’ve decided to hedge my bets and plan for the worst. Better safe than sorry, right?
As the money in our bank account wouldn’t stuff a pillow case, I’ve decided to leave it where it is and focus on revamping my storm cellar into a nifty bunker. If economic collapse indeed leads to worldwide chaos, the world will probably start to look a lot like “Mad Max: Return To Thunderdome.” When that happens, I intend to be safely underground.
While I was sorting through my pantry, searching for canned goods to take with me into my nuclear fallout shelter, I was reminded of another way my family might be spared some of the wrath of the coming economic Armageddon. We have two dogs we can eat when it gets bad. That gives us, well, at least two weeks more staying power than non-pet owners.
Some of you might think I’m going too far. Regardless of panic on Wall Street, doomsday predictions in the media and dire warnings from our government, I suppose the coming months might not be all that bad.
Maybe I didn’t necessarily have to chop up my storage building for firewood. But, then again, winter is coming, and luck favors the prepared.
