| David Vest | |||
| Welcome to Nasdaqistan | |||
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Greetings from the People's Republic of
Nasdaqistan, in the heart of Silicon Forest, where snow
is falling on cedars and the only requirement for
citizenship is a desire to make money. People are migrating here from reality, or Texas or wherever they come from, at warp factor five. They come in the belief that Nasdaqistan is sitting on a gusher bound to make Spindletop look like a leaky yard faucet. The Nasdaq composite index rose 86 percent in 1999. Outsiders, no doubt, were impressed. But here inside the Republic, it's like, big deal! People expect their own portfolios to out-pace the Nasdaq! In fact, I know people who bought at 22 in the springtime and sold at 50 in autumn. By December, when their stock hit 100, they hated themselves. A $27 per share profit, and it left them feeling like, "duh." Would you like options with that order? Better hurry. Can't you feel that ground floor shaking? As you renounce your allegiance to ordinary reality, best to familiarize yourself with some of the ways and customs of this new realm. First, clothing. In Nasdaqistan, the only people who show up in suits are off-the-street (yes, that street) job interviewees. You can see them in the waiting room, furiously scribbling on clipboards. In a few days they'll feel much better. They'll all be worker bees and they'll never have to play grown-up again. (For some, the transition is unkind. Wearing flannel shirts just makes them look like old Pearl Jam roadies.) Next, don't get too friendly with your cyber-neighbors. Frequent 100% turnover in stock ownership is the rule. This market's no place for sissies, but it's a haven for agoraphobics. The people who own your company today may not even know the people who own it next week. For all we know, the entire population may be swapping itself out right now. Pack a sense of humor. You'll need it. Instead of Aggie jokes, tell AOL jokes. "Welcome! You've Got Spam!" Contrary to what you may have heard, you can get to Nasdaqistan via AOL. You can get from Alaska to Patagonia by bus, too. To Nasdaqistanis, AOL is like a big airport with no planes leaving. People go out there, pay to park, walk up and down the halls, buy a magazine, use the phone, eat something unspeakable and pretend they're in cyberspace. You can get to the Internet on AOL, but Nasdaqistanis suspect most people just wander around the terminal or sit in lobbies watching Time-Warner. "Welcome! You've Got Content!" Then there's the language. In the Nasdaqi tongue, "making money" and "making a profit" do not necessarily have anything to do with one another. A "browser" is not someone who's "just looking." "Traffic" has nothing to do with cars. Rule of thumb: if you can't speak the local patois, don't try. You don't want to sound like some yokel in Paris, yelling, "Garkon! Accusez-moi!" at waitresses. Or like Steve Forbes, praising the "Lunix" system during the Republican debates. Here is the main difference between reality and Nasdaqistan. In reality, everything is a kind of everything else. (Bill Bradley is a kind of Adlai Stevenson. John McCain is a kind of Harry Truman, etc.) But in Nasdaqistan, everything is everything, plain and simple. (Shrub is Bush, Clapton is God, etc.) Still undecided about emigrating to the People's Republic of Nasdaqistan? Take this simple quiz: Do you wake up in the morning feeling guilty about not being rich (enough) yet? Do you measure your success in life against that of Bill Gates and amazon.com's Jeff Bezos? Do your own ideas come back to you (on the web) with a certain alienated majesty? Would you rather snowboard than ski? Do you have any idea who Mariah Carey is? If you answered yes to any of these questions (except the last one), drop whatever you're doing and go directly to Nasdaqistan. Do not go jogging. Do not collect dividends. Just geaux. Whatever you do, hurry. There's still time to get in on that ground floor. What are you waiting for? An earthquake? |
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