It’s almost Christmas, and I don’t want to keep lying to you, and risk ending up on Santa’s Naughty List.
You see, thing is…
I don’t hate Donald Trump as much as I make it seem on my blog.
Oh, I still think the man is a blowhard, racist, sexist, bully, and buffoon, who has absolutely no business being President of the United States.
That is never going to change.
But Donald Trump is someone very dear and important to me.
You see, Modern Philosophers, he’s made me a millionaire!
Back in February, when my financial adviser suggested I purchase a stake in a West Virginia coal mine, I thought he was about to lose his job as my financial adviser.
Somehow, he convinced me to take a chance on what he assured me was a sure thing and the key to a blissful retirement. Of course, he saw coal as the future because he believed America was going to move away from its dependency on foreign oil.
He had plenty of charts and graphs to back up his Deep Thoughts, but I must’ve had a crystal ball.
Something in my gut told me that coal was going to increase in value sharply, but it had nothing to do with its use as an energy source.
Isn’t that why I have a financial adviser?
Then two weeks ago, I got the call.
There was serious interest in buying the coal mine, and the buyer was willing to fork over top dollar because he was desperate for our coal.
I gave him permission to sell my shares, and he assured me he would do so eventually. First, however, he was going to drive up the price.
I asked him who the buyer was, and why he was willing to pay so much for a coal mine that wasn’t breaking any sort of production records.
“You’ll never believe who it is,” my financial adviser teased.
For an astronomical sum.
I felt guilty about it at first, but my guy assured me that Santa Claus had money to burn, and financial backers to provide even more if he wanted a larger fire.
Why did Santa suddenly have an overwhelming need for coal so close to Christmas?
“It’s all for Donald Trump,” my adviser explained gleefully as visions of his commission on this deal danced in his head. “Every time that Trump opens his mouth, he earns a little more coal in his stocking. Santa simply ran out of the stuff, and needed a new source in time for Christmas Eve.”
Supply and demand, Modern Philosophers.
I’d learned all about it in Economics class back in high school, and here it was finally doing me some good.
Do you see now why I don’t hate Trump as much as I pretend I do?
I don’t know if I’ll ever dabble in the markets again, Modern Philosophers. I’m not a risk taker, and I’m pretty sure that I can make my windfall last for the rest of my life.
Of course, my financial adviser has been trying to get me to buy up huge chunks of Canadian real estate. He said the market up there is really going to boom when Trump gets elected President, and Americans flee across the border.
I’m just not sure if lightning can strike twice.
Then again, if anyone’s going to be struck down by lightning, it’s Trump.
So I’ll think about it.
Merry Christmas, Trump. Thanks for making this the greatest Christmas of all!