The Skeeter Daddle Diaries

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So the guy parked next to us at the Red Wing Marina with the ¾ million dollar boat sez: Buy Gold! He’s hopped up on our poop deck to introduce himself, offer up his bio and inform us of his plans to buy a trimaran sailboat and cruise it to Florida, then from Florida head around South Africa’s Cape Horn and end up in Madagascar, no doubt the result of extensive research on the Nature Channel since he doesn’t know much about the place except its approximate location.

Our investment advisor made HIS fortune by spraying herbicides under state power line right-of-ways, then retired at 45 ‘before the toxins killed me’. He and his wife are partying with a few other retirees on the dock where we’re all moored up and trapped like ghetto rats here at the marina, nothing better to do than compare boats, talk travel dreams and, of course, drink. Everyone, apparently, is invited.

Buy gold, he sez, not an ounce of doubt. When we ask what the reason is for that fiduciary surety, he answers: the Federal Reserve will be gone in 6 months. None of us offer up a scintilla of skepticism. Probably knowing this is a lead-in to a political skirmish. We’re obviously going back, apparently, to the Gold Standard. And given the current state of affairs, who knows? Trump might just give it a shot.

They say money talks and bullshit walks, but today they’re both in full voice and no one is going anywhere. Although we’ll be debarking early in the morning before our new rich friends wake with hangovers and possibly new schemes and dreams. I doubt if we’ll be phoning our brokers to liquidate and start piling up bullion. We might, however, consider buying stocks in herbicides.

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