Monday, March 26, 2012

Super Mogambo Comments (SMC).

A lot of people have been very quizzical lately, asking me things like "What in the hell is wrong with you, you idiot?" (to which I answer "If I knew that, don't you think I'd stop taking these stupid pills, you ugly moron?"), and, of course, the ever-popular question "Are you as stupid as you look and sound?" (Answer "Yes").

Of course, these are only two completely random examples of the many, many questions I get asked on a regular basis. But lately, like I said, more and more people are asking about things that I classify as What To Do (WTD) questions.

They plead and cry at me, as I am hunkered down safe inside my bunker, to come out, like I am some kind of idiot or something. Actually, they are idiots in not knowing what "bunker" means! Hahaha!

Anyway, I can hear them whining and saying "Please come out and help us!" Soon tiring of hearing me laughing at them and mocking them (e.g. "Morons!"), they try a vain appeal to my vanity (where "vain appeal to my vanity" is some kind of clever literary thing that I can't remember the name of, which I throw in for free to show you an example of the value inherent in each and every Mogambo Guru newsletter).

"Wonderful Mogambo Genius (WMG)!" they plead. "Surely an intellect so powerful as yours that can come up with clever literary things like the one in the precious paragraph, a man with powers and abilities obviously far beyond those of mortal men, can help us!"

Delighted at the smarmy, servile flattery, I ask, "Do you have gold, silver and oil like I have been advising you to buy for the last 15 years?"

Soon I can hear them muttering among themselves, sounding like the bleating, dimwitted sheep that they really are. Finally, they admit that, alas, they have not bought any gold, silver or oil in the whole time. So I say, with a Huge Stinking Glob (HSG) of sarcasm and replete with Overtones Of Scorn (OOS) in my voice, "Then you people are idiots! Hahaha! You're going to die, you idiots, because of your own idiocy! Die! Hahaha!"

To which they reply, "We know! That's why we need you to tell us What To Do (WTD), which is another of your brilliant acronyms, this one actually referred to in an earlier paragraph of this, your latest Brilliant Mogambo Prose (BMP)."

Sensing a trap, I turned up the Volume Out control of the intercom to a terrifying 11, a rare decibel level invented by the band Spinal Tap. Once adjusted, I screamed so loud into the microphone that my vocal cords still ache. With Occam's Razor-like keenness, I bellowed "The answer is simplicity itself, you morons! Do anything you want! Anything! Do anything you can think of! Unfortunately, whatever you think of will not work, because nothing CAN work, you dumb-ass, lowlife, 'free lunch' losers!

"Nothing -- repeat, nothing! -- can make staggering, bankrupting debt painlessly go away, you pea-brained idiots! Not somehow, not anyhow, not any way, not any day, not any time, not no how, which doesn't rhyme, but now suddenly does, and not even with a thousand million tons of magic pixie dust.

If it was possible to make debt disappear with nobody losing money, then everyone would have always done it! And we would doing it Right Freaking Now (RFN), you economically-illiterate morons!"

Feeling smug and self-satisfied with myself for having provided such a good education on them, I turned off the intercom, intending to update my Double-Secret Mogambo Enemies List (D-SMEL) which, admittedly, has grown to unwieldy proportions over the years as a result of my rampant paranoia, and we are nearing that time when it will be more efficacious to merely list those people who are NOT on the damned enemies list.

But how can I NOT add enemies?

Like that snotty little grocery bagger at the grocery store who looked at me funny. Oh, you can be sure that HE'S on the list!

Why? Because I could tell what he was thinking. "I know you, Big Mogambo Idiot (BMI)" he was thinking to himself. "I hate you!"

I instantly used my Powerful Mogambo Powers (PMP) to read his mind to find that he hates me because I am a brilliant and handsome economist who has -- mirabile dictu! -- achieved True Mogambo Enlightenment (TME) that the Austrian Business Cycle Theory is the only true economic theory, and (as a corollary) that the laughably inept economists are neo-Keynesian econometric dunderheads, particularly Princeton neo-Keynesian econometric dunderheads, who should all be rounded up in a big mooing herd and kept in some kind of corral until we build enough dank, fetid, stinking hellhole dungeon cells in which to keep them so that they, as the saying goes, "Don't scare the women-folk or the livestock" with their incredible, unbelievable, idiot-savant smug gullibility and complete lack of independent, critical thinking that would have instantly made them say, as I say, as all Junior Mogambo Rangers (JMRs) say, indeed as all thinking people around the Whole Freaking Globe (WFG) say, "This stupid Keynesian crap of continual government deficit-spending to replace lost consumer spending, financed by the evil Federal Reserve vastly expanding the money supply, is a Big Stinking Load (BSL

When he was finished bagging my groceries, I naturally confronted him, accusing him of plotting against me and probably being a closet Keynesian who deserved being dragged into the street and handed over, bound and gagged, to angry mobs. He denied it, of course (the little liar!), and then he suddenly got really nervous for no reason that I could see, so that's how I really knew he was guilty.

His treachery is why he is on the enemies list, and, even worse for him, I will not tell him to feverishly buy gold, silver and oil stocks when, like now (in spades!), the money supply is hyper-expanding and the national debt is being increased so terrifyingly much, for so terrifyingly long, to such terrifying levels.

Then, without this Crucial Investing Knowledge (CIK), this hateful little snot-faced bag-boy will end up broke, filthy, homeless, and starving in the gutter. That will be my sweet revenge! Hahaha! I shall laugh at him and his suffering!

But caution: Instead of celebrating just another bagboy getting what he deserved, heed the essential lesson to make sure that this tragedy won't happen to you: Buy gold, silver and oil today, and buy them Every Freaking Day (EFD) of your miserable life, and only then will you thankfully never hear the mocking and scornful voice of the Mogambo wafting over you, stinging and magnifying the bitter pain of your laying broke, filthy, homeless and starving in the gutter.

And probably cold sober, too, making it all worse, whereas buying gold, silver and oil is a happy thing, as in "Whee! This investing stuff is easy!"

Thursday, March 22, 2012

The Shadowy Legend of The Mogambo...

Hey!  It's me, Mogambo! Over here! No, over here! Here! The guy eating the taco!  That's me! Hi!

Thank you all for your kind comments, although you are doubtlessly aware that admitting to reading the Mogambo Guru, even accidentally, even in passing, even from across the room, even just glancing at it from across a large room, makes me have absolutely no respect for you. At all.

I should tell your friends and family about your obvious low standards in reading material so that they could know what kind of person you really, really are and laugh at you, but I won't.

All I ask is that you buy gold, silver and oil so that when you are rich as a result of their prices going ballistic because the Federal Reserve is creating so many trillions of dollars, then you can say "I owe it all to the wonderful advice of The Magnificent Mogambo to buy gold, silver and oil when the Federal Reserve was creating so much money and acting so suicidally irresponsible."

And when they ask "Who's Mogambo?", you can answer, cryptically, "Who, indeed?"

Thus, the shadowy legend of The Mogambo is kept alive.

And when they make a movie about it, please make sure that the guy who plays me has great washboard abs, bulging biceps like freaking eggplants, and a handsome face like a young Paul Newman, only more so, if you get my drift.

Thanks! The Mogambo owes you one!

Wednesday, March 7, 2012

Mogambo Intruder Alert System (MIAS)

Bzzzz! The sound of someone pressing the intercom button, and thus activating the Mogambo Intruder Alert System (MIAS), brought me jolting out of a fitful sleep, full of nightmares brought on by the Federal Reserve creating so impossibly-much money that hyperinflation in consumer prices is guaranteed, meaning, of course, that We're Freaking Doomed (WFD), a situation which nine out of ten doctors will tell you is Bad News Aplenty (BNA).

A quick scan of the security video shows it was my daughter buzzing me, probably wanting to talk to me about something, or give her some money, neither of which holds much attraction to me at this point late in our relationship.

So I, still feeling guilty and obligated by the shredded remnants of the duties of fatherhood, hit the "transmit" button and breezily ask "Who is it?"   She answered "You know who it is! Like I don't know that you have already had your security cameras on me the whole time, and used that stupid metal-detecting scanner to see if I am armed, you moron! Now open up and give me some money!"

Naturally, my immediate response is "Hahaha! Go to hell, deadbeat teenage albatross around my neck!"

Trying as best I can to avoid a confrontation, and to be a thoughtful, loving father, I tenderly reply "It's YOU that is the moron, or else you would be armed, as only morons are unarmed in these perilous times that are going to get much more perilous because the Federal Reserve is still creating trillions and trillions of new dollars a year so that the loathsome Obama administration can pound it into the economy through insane levels of deficit-spending. And don't get me started on the European Central Bank doing the exact same, stupid, ruinous, suicidal thing! Or any of those other dirtbag central banks around the world doing it, too!"

I could tell that she was stunned by the sudden change in tactics. Pressing my advantage, in a snotty, sarcastic way I ask "And so who is the moron now? Huh? Who? Huh?  Who?"

Seemingly stymied, she next tries the crying tactic, blubbering through her tearful sobs "Oh, boo hoo hoo!  Poor, poor me! How sad is the little girl whose father will not forgive her for foolishly not buying into the whole Austrian Business Cycle Theory of economics thing, and simultaneously heaping disdain and scorn on loathsome Keynesian lunatics! And woe betide the poor child, namely me, who did not buy gold, silver and oil to protect her frail little self, freezing in the cold of a calamitous 'inflationary winter' caused by such staggering, unfettered creations of fiat money by the despicable, criminally-incompetent Federal Reserve!"

Stunned, I realized that she HAD been listening to me all those years! My heart soared like an eagle!  Even to the point of almost -- almost! --  forgiving her for all those years of pretending to ignore me, and telling me what a bad father I was (just because I was a bad father and Big Mogambo Jerk (BMJ), but in a lovable way that would have been endlessly endearing to her if she didn't act like such a jerk most of the time, like that time she was whining about how her stupid friends were coming over and could I change from the Golf Channel (no), or at least put on some pants or at least a shirt, and especially how she could not be made to understand how it was vitally, vitally important that we invest all available money into gold, silver and oil because the Federal Reserve was creating so much money that big, big, BIG inflation in consumer prices will result from such big, big, BIG increases in the money supply).

And it wouldn't have been so bad for either of us if she hadn't been so distempered as to say nasty things like "Shut up!", and "I hate you!", sounding more and more like her mother every day, and finally, to wound me to the quick, saying "If you say one more word about the evil Federal Reserve, I will kill you in your sleep!", surprisingly with my wife agreeing with her, and even volunteering to help.

I imagined that she could feel my heart swell with pride at her admission of grumbling acceptance that the Austrian Business Cycle Theory is the only correct economic theory, while all those neo-Keynesian econometric nitwit turds are wrong, and now we are going to be destroyed by the Federal Reserve (a hotbed of neo-Keynesian econometric nitwit turds) creating so much excess money and credit.

Perhaps she could feel my outpouring of newfound love, even through the thick steel-reinforced concrete walls of the Famous Mogambo Bunker (FMB), all the way through layers and layers of aluminum foil on the walls and ceiling (to cleverly thwart brain-control rays and spores from outer space).

As an interesting aside, it used to be called the Mogambo Secret Bunker Of Relative Safety (MSBORS), a name chosen for its many delicious subtleties, probably stemming from once imagining my relatives come streaming and screaming over here, desperate to escape the phase of economic inflationary collapse known in professional-economist jargon as "Hyper-collapsoidal death-spiral of freaking doom."

Okay, I admit it is not known as "Hyper-collapsoidal death-spiral of freaking doom", but it ought to be, both because it is eerily descriptive and deadly accurate.

So I speak into my microphone and suavely ask her "Do you agree it should be called Hyper-collapsoidal death-spiral of freaking doom?"  

She replied, "Sure, whatever. Who cares?  I'll say that if you give me some money."

I say "How much money?" She says "Eight thousand dollars." I say "What? What in the hell do you need to buy that costs eight thousand clams?"

She says "I want to take my boyfriend out for burgers and fries," to which I splutter "But you can do that for twenty bucks!"

So she says "Okay. I'll take the twenty bucks!"

"Whew! That was close!" I said to myself. "Instead of losing eight thousand, I get off for a lousy twenty bucks!"  Relieved at getting off so cheap, I slipped the, as they used to say, double-sawbuck to her through the Mogambo Secured Exchange Port (MSEP).

So raising kids is easy, after all! 

In fact, it's sort of like buying gold, silver and oil in that regard, because "Whee! This investing stuff is easy!"