The Stock Market Helps Me Get Wasted

I was overjoyed today to get my IRA (Idiot's Retirement Account) fund information in the mail. Every year, 2% of my hard-earned cash will now be pumped into the stock market, which, in my opinion, is really a hideous place to put anything.

As most of us have learned by now from reading newspapers, watching television news or making small talk with our local drug dealer, the stock market is not doing so well. These days, anything involved in the stock market is immediately worthless, whether it be stocks, bonds, kidnapped children sold on the black market, or even nude photos of pop singer Mandy Moore. What a perfect time for me to start sending part of my paycheck into the stock market.

At least I can rest assured that I'm buying low.

Since 2% of my yearly paycheck comes out to roughly . . . oh . . . $1.47, I'm very upset about the situation. I could buy a loaf of bread, and possibly even a small individual-sized bag of Funyons with that money. Personally, I think the bread and Funyons would be worth more by the time I retire. Also, with the stress the stock market is causing investors right now, the Funyons would probably end up giving me less gas.

But this minor delve into the stock market has proved worthy in one manner. It gives me a reason to get wasted. Yes, even though I'm currently investing less than $20 into the rumble and tumble game of stock and bond trading, that doesn't mean I'm not going to drown my sorrows. I've been looking for this opportunity for months. Finally, the opportunity to rightfully get wasted is mine.

It's not anyone's birthday, there's no finals for major sporting events, no one has died in a horrible car crash. Therefore, what can a man like myself do? There's no ethical reason for me to down 10 beers and then dance on a table. And we all need to down 10 beers and dance on a table at some point. We're Americans, for Christ's sake.

As a young teenager and college man, I often dreamed of a day when I could take part in the real world. I sat and thought about how wonderful it would be, once I was out of the college world of sex and flatulence jokes, to finally have a reason for being depressed. You can't even imagine what a joy it is now to find that reason.

Hooray for the stock market crashing! Hooray! The lower the Dow Jones sinks, the more I can drink! When the stock market ain't pretty, I can get shitty! When the Dow Jones is bunk, I can get drunk! When the stock market is foul, I can rape owls!

I'm sorry, please disregard that last one. I don't know how that got in there.

Either way, don't ever let people tell you that hardship isn't good. Whenever some old geezer goes off on a rant about how bad things used to be, tell them about me. Explain to them that hardship goes hand in hand with Paul's Super Happy Fun Drinking Time. I'm sure they'll see it my way in no time. If they don't, beat them unmercifully with a small gardening shovel.

But no matter what you don't, don't spend your time worrying about me, reader. I'm a resourceful person. Even if the stock market starts doing well, I have index funds, which means I likely have some sort of stock in some branch of Wal-Mart. That's depressing enough for anyone.