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Mr. President, I'm guessing ten years from now when you're sitting restlessly at an Alcoholics Anonymous meeting talking about how you wrecked this country because you never did a twelfth step, you're going to realize the errors of these past two weeks.

Every time you show that rat face of yours on the teevee the market goes boom. You notice that yet? I feel like playing futures when I see you--that is, were there any future to play. Seriously, the market correction is not going to listen to you, Mr. President. It's sick of getting kicked around by you, lied to by you, kissed on the forehead, patted on the ass, and kicked out of bed--and it's not ever going to listen to you again. 

Frankly sir, the market is terrified of you. And can you blame it? You never paid any real attention to it. You only ever knew it was there when you wanted something, humping the leg of commercial paper and mortgage-backed failure. Mr President, this is the market you deserved. And I'm glad you got it.

There are two hours till we know what the damage of the day has been. It may be 8000 is the bottom. Maybe we scrape that and end even on the day. If that happens, next week may be better for those rich enough to enjoy the spoils of the stock market.

For those who are not rich enough, Monday will only bring financial insecurity and a gnawing feeling about the job, the mortgage, and the very near future (forget our very Cratchit Christmas).