‘Correction’ Sounds So Much Better Than ‘I’ve Lost All My Savings’

I love it when the stock market plunges 400 points and some financial analyst on TV says, “This is just a correction.”

Four hundred points. Ka-boom.

Seven hundred in two days.

You’re now going to be eating soup until 2009, but this is just a correction.

Did you ever wonder what they mean by “just a correction”?

A correction is what they tell you so that you’ll stay in the stock market a month longer. Meanwhile, they’re getting out before the crash, which will come tomorrow.

The flight of the stock market is dizzying. It’s down 616 points one day, up 482 the next. The biggest loss in history could be followed by the biggest gain. The market has swings like my Uncle Sidney before Prozac. It’s like betting on Oprah’s dress size.

I wouldn’t care, except it’s my retirement money!

The Nasdaq, ha! Ever wonder what it stands for?

“No answers, so don’t ask questions.”

People would be jumping out of open windows in downtown office buildings like in the ‘20s, except now, they build the windows so you can’t open them. So, instead of committing suicide, they just fire their personal trainers.

I may have stayed in the Nasdaq too long. Internet stocks are melting down like Whitney Houston’s career, which is currently a grilled-cheese sandwich on Three Mile Island.

“Don’t panic, it’s just profit-taking,” the financial analysts calmly say.

Profit-taking is what smart guys do when they bail out on a stock they believe has become overvalued. And how do the smart guys know when to begin profit-taking? Usually, they program their laptops to buzz loudly the moment the name Anthony I. Kornheiser pops up on the list of investors.

The sad thing is, I have no idea what I’m doing. I don’t even know which stocks I own. I don’t know if I’m in high-tech, biotech or Georgia Tech. There’s a technical financial name for someone like me: “moron.” I thought the Nikkei was a concept car by Toyota.

I got into the stock market late. I was deep in my 40s, and I still had all my money in the bank, earning 2%, like it was low-fat milk. My friends laughed at me. Even the people at the bank laughed at me--they had all their money in the market.

I took a test to see how much investment risk I would accept. I was asked: If your portfolio lost 15% of its value over the course of one year, would you be:

A. Unconcerned.

B. Slightly concerned.

C. Anxious.

I wrote in: “Long dead, because when it lost 5%, I’d have leaped out the window.”

So, my financial advisor told me he would be extremely cautious with my portfolio. I trusted his judgment. When the monthly statements of my holdings arrived in the mail, I didn’t even read them. I took it on faith that my investments would make me rich. I practiced pronouncing the word “concierge.”

Then, I got greedy.

I’m now taking stock tips from my radio producer, a 29-year-old college dropout who makes about 14 cents an hour. He is heavily invested in Nasdaq tech stocks, which explains why, last week, he began to sell his furniture. He put me in PPVI. I don’t even know what it stands for. He said it was about to go through the roof. I bought it at 21. The other day, it was at 6 1/2. But I’m sure that’s just a correction.

My college friend Al is a day trader. A day trader is somebody who is so wired they won’t let him through the Athens airport. About a year ago, Al told me to buy a tech stock he was sure would quadruple in no time. He went on about who was backing the stock, and what its specs were, and what its global prognosis was, blah, blah, blah. I bought it basically to get him to shut up. I bought it at 19 1/4.

A few months went by with no word from Al, and I forgot about the stock. Then, last week, the Nasdaq went blooey, and Al called up, asking breathlessly, “Did you get out?”

“Did I get out of what?”

He rattled off a name that sounded like: mega-something.

I didn’t know what he was talking about.

“The stock I put you in! You don’t remember it?” Al asked.

“I forgot all about the stock. Should I have gotten out?” I asked.

He told me it was now trading at 3. But he was still optimistic about its future.

“Did you get out?” I asked.

“Oh, yeah, sure. But I’m back in,” Al said. “I’m calling to tell you it’s a bargain now at 3. Some morons bought it as high as 19.”

Yeah, so I heard.