Friday, February 20, 2009
Dear Mr. Fisher of Fisher Investments,
Can I call you Ken? I feel very close to you -- you put a personal note on the outside of the envelope (In cursive. I guess that means you only sent out a few of these). I'm pretty sure you have a mustache that will tickle when you kiss me on the cheek. I'm hoping I can come to dinner some time. Your return address is Skyline Boulevard in Woodside California. Sounds nice and cozy and wealthy; you have a craftsman perhaps? Or are you neo-modern. In any case, I'm sure you have a nice view and pour a mean pinot.
Your letter was very long and chatty, and I only posted a couple of pages here. Nice you told me you have a column in Forbes Magazine. I said to myself, "Oh, it's that Ken."
Knowing so much, and living in the sky and the woods and all, I'm sure time is on your side. I, on the other hand, have the nightshift at MacDonald's, so will cut to the chase.
200 MILLION PEOPLE IN AMERICA HAVE BEEN MAKING THE SAME EIGHT FUCKING INVESTMENT ERRORS? And you knew about this? AND YOU SAID NOTHING? You have a column, for christ sakes. You just sat on these hard eights for years and decided to spring it now?
I'm really rather irritated at you Ken. You've been a naughty boy. You waited until I lost a third of my investments before coming to me with your gold-leaf envelope and sweet talk and toast points and advice.
Ok, pour me another pinot and let me calm down.
Maybe I should be glad that our mistakes have been limited to eight. You could have said ten or a five hundred. But by specifying eight, the number is manageable. There's a path out of this mess, and Ken can light the way. Eight ways. We can all count to eight. Even after two carpentry accidents.
Ok, feeling better now. No one has to tell you how flattering it is to be part of your "private investment group." Knowing you so well, I'll be happy to disclose my investment size and send it along in your post-paid envelope. Can I do less? You ask for the favor of my reply, and it makes me feel all giggly and Jane Austeny.
In closing, I appreciate the book. I like books, and I guess you remembered it's my birthday (six months ago). But timing was never your strong suit.