Alas and alack. I come to this forum today to confess. Yes, I could hide behind the altruistic excuse that I post here with conviction and principle…and not in a vain effort to contribute to the forum by way of posting hollow and trumped up, subjective opinions full of righteous indignation… that are totally self-serving. But, with a desperate need for atonement, riddled with guilt for castigating our leaders in SFMI (Self Fulfilling, Masochistic Indulgence ) and now, writhing in the torture of self–flagellation I must admit that the real fault lies with me. It is a deep cut (Dicut) fellow gold bugs, but also expurgatory. Good thing I no longer fear pain (algophobia)…but alternately, I have become angrophobic (fear anger). There is always a trade-off, isn’t there?

You see, after extensive psychological deep drilling and therapy I have discovered that I suffer from macro-phobia, the fear of waiting in long lines. I guess that would explain my irrational lack of patience with respect to my investment returns and reveal my motivation to displace my resulting anxieties on to innocent targets. I simply cannot take responsibility for my own faults. This malady is further exacerbated by the most miserable discovery that I also suffer from micro-phobia, the fear of small things. I should really stay away from the small JPMs. I now understand why a share price of 3.7 cents is no small thing in my mind and blown totally out of all proportion. I now fear that I am no better than Jonathan Swifts ‘odious little vermin’ that God ever suffered to crawl upon the face of this earth. (vermophobia).

So, here I am, lain prostrate, tragic and vulnerable to all the slings and arrows one can possibly imagine… abandoned and lost to a deep, dark, sinker tunnel of despair…possibly manifesting itself in achluophobia (fear of the dark). This, if one is not most cautious, can induce psycho-implosion, resulting in the ‘post quiveries’ ( PQ’s). .. a new word specially crafted just now. Then, as the quest for real knowledge (RK) becomes overwhelming, groping in the darkness invariably leads one into an adit of no return, which of course is most claustrophobic.

Having reached the ultimate level of my meniscus, fearing that my cup may now runneth over (hygrophobia) with poisonous thought, and being much more than half full, I have reached the exalted but most fearful state of all, phronemophobia (fear of thinking).

All I can do is rely on news releases.