The Worst Investment I Ever Made (and How I Eventually Broke Even)

If you’ve been investing over the last several years (or even if you haven’t been investing, but somehow managed to watch TV), you know the United States financial markets have been on a roller coaster ride.  It started with the hypothetical boom years of the middle 2000’s, which turned out to be predicated on invisible markets, over-leveraged financial institutions, and the ultimate inability of many unemployed and unemployable Americans to pay $500,000 adjustable rate mortgages on mansions.  So, a recession followed, and then for the last (maybe) three years, we’ve been in this odd, “gird your loins”-style stock market rally, which terrifies me because it, too, seems to be built on a house of cards (if the economy were truly healthy, the Federal Reserve would be increasing interest rates, not holding them at zero percent and also continuing to buy mortgage-backed assets every month like it’s 2009 still).

I’m not terribly optimistic about the United States economy over the short-term future  – it’s been only five years since the last recession started, and it strikes me that it should take at least ten years to undo the epic mess we had created in that recession.

But it is also fair to say that, in a vacuum, 2013 has been a good year for the US stock market(s).  The S&P 500 (and if you’re reading this as a beginner, the S&P 500 – NOT the Dow Jones index – is the more accurate barometer of the two, as it has a much larger base of companies included within itself) is currently up over 28% for the year, which historically speaking is pretty damned huge.  And at the moment, I am smiling from ear to ear because my worst-ever investment has broken even for the first time in seven years.  This is the story of my worst-ever investment.

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I graduated from college back in 2006, and received a decent amount of money as graduation gifts from my extended family, right around the time I received a job offer.  My father suggested I invest the graduation gift money, since I now had a job that was going to pay me a steady income, and since it makes a ton of sense to begin investing and saving as early as possible. 

His advice was well-intentioned, but it should have been followed with “and hey, did you ever hear about low-cost index funds?”  Because I had absolutely no clue what to do, I decided to invest my graduation money in a taxable account instead of a tax-free Roth IRA (a bad mistake at the time, but in the long run this could be helpful as it’s important for earners at a certain income level – and I hope to get there someday - to diversify between taxable and tax-free accounts).  I also decided to chase high past returns, by investing in a mutual fund which focused on the “Brokerage and Investment Management” sector.  These companies had been sky-high profitable in the past few years, and by no coincidence at all happened to be the very same companies that essentially caused the Great Recession of 2008 (e.g., Goldman Sachs, AIG, etc.).

Here is the performance of the specific fund I invested in over the last ten years (from 2004 through 2013):

Note that I invested in this fund around the end of 2006; that is, RIGHT AT THE HIGH POINT OF THE CHART.  Hindsight is always 20/20, and for sure, it looked like I didn’t even buy high for the following year or so, as the market continued to bubble upwards. 

But by early 2009, when I’d seen my investment essentially cut down by 70% (and seemingly decreasing in value every day), it was a huge judgment call whether or not I should consider selling the fund and hoarding the cash.  Everywhere around me, it seemed that otherwise-calm financial professionals were shuffling people’s money around in a desperate attempt to chase returns - I still recall my dad’s financial advisory firm putting a third of his retirement assets in cash, out of fear of total collapse; then moving it into gold, as an inflation hedge; then moving it into the “small cap-value” section of the market, hoping to ride the recovery.  (My dad got pissed off and eventually, justifiably, fired these guys.)

I eventually decided to stay put and hold the money exactly where it was.  Thankfully by then I had started reading books on investing, starting with more beginner-friendly books like Henry Blodget’s “Wall Street Self-defense Manual” and then moving along to more mathematical books such as Burton Malkiel’s “Random Walk Down Wall Street,” and lots of what I read seemed to converge on one fundamental truth of investing – a regular guy off the street can’t beat the market in the short term, he can only ride it in the long term (which isn’t bad, actually, because the market tends to beat inflation over the “long term”), so he’s always better off making fewer, long-term-focused decisions.

(BTW, the “you’re always better off making fewer decisions” also strikes me as solid logic for real estate purchases – closing costs kill you when you’re buying, and kill you twice when you’re selling, so you’re almost always better off staying put, from a wealth management perspective.)

So this brings us to the present day – it took almost seven years, but I’m officially right back where I started*.  (*NOTE: Not accounting for inflation, which I technically should account for – this would mean I’m actually still about 8-10% behind, but would also make for a less interesting blog post.) 

What were the good moves I made throughout?  Well, I could have sold low and consequently not ridden as steep of a wave to recovery, but I didn’t. The fund I invested in was very “swingy”, and as a result, its returns accelerated somewhat faster than an S&P 500 index fund has accelerated over the last few years.  I also could have not learned from my mistake and foolishly followed the same philosophy of chasing high past returns in later purchases (I did say this was the worst investment of my life – I’ve made others, all of which were smarter and some of which are up 35% or so this year alone).

But the bad moves I made are more illustrative.  First, I chased a “sexy” fund and I ended up getting bitten in the ass.  That was a dumb move, and thankfully I learned from it at a young age.  I also didn’t pay attention to advisory fees (1.79%, which is super high – an S&P 500 index fund could be as low as 0.15%!), thinking foolishly that investment portfolio managers were worth that cost for their expertise and their ability to perform “above average”.  Lots of research is out there on this, and most of it says that no one is worth 1.79% as an advisory fee, and virtually no one is worth even 1 percent – those fees cut into returns in a huge way over time. 

So that’s my story.  All caveats apply as to me not being a financial professional, but hopefully people reading this get a sense of what I did wrong and what I learned from my mistake.  The ultimate story here is probably that perseverance is key, even moving forward.  I don’t plan to pull my money out of this fund any time soon (a potentially controversial move, but it’s my “pet gamble” – I’ve already been willing to lose it once, so I guess I’m willing to lose it twice), and who knows, in 25 years maybe it’ll fund my early retirement!  (Ha ha ha.)

10 Ways of Knowing Fred

10 Ways of Knowing Fred

Anyone that knows Fred knows that he nearly always follows everything through to completion.  However, life (and fixation on a Party Bus, probably) has prevented Fred from completing his 30 mini-blogs.  So his friends (at time of post) decided to finish it for him, with 10 mini-blogs on Fred.  After all, what better way to cap off 20 of the most self-indulgent mini-blogs ever???

 1.  Fred the Poker Player: Brainpan

Fred after an average night of gambling. In his mind.

              I first met Fred when he was an undergraduate at Rutgers and I was a grad student.  He walked into a lab meeting and didn't say much.  At least I didn't notice him saying much, maybe he just said all sorts of uninteresting things.  Eventually I found out he played poker and it was then that he became interesting.  We became friends that way, and through watching Fred play poker I've generally learned a lot more about Fred than I have about poker.  That's not to say he's a bad poker player, even though he most certainly is.  But what I mean right now is that certain character traits become amplified when he plays.

             Fred's play at the poker table is in many ways similar to his approach to life, at least the approach I see.  He tends to sit down at the table formally.  He neatly stacks his chips.  He prepares for war.  You can see him visibly justifying each of his actions both to himself and to the rest of the table.  He furrows his brow when it seems questionable.  Sometimes he does that on purpose to make you think it's questionable.  He's aware of all of this and he's aware of most of the table's actions as well.  Most importantly, though, he expects to win.  And he expects to win quickly, and precipitously, and he'll take calculated risks to get there.  Most people are happy with a win rate of a few big blinds per hour.  Fred expects to win a buy-in every couple hours.  The crazy thing is, he often does.  Just look at his job.  Or his wife.  Or his house.  What, you thought we were still talking poker?

2.  Fred the Sports Fan: Brainpan

Just another casualty from the Baseball Incident of 2008.

              Others on this blog might have seen Fred deal with more sporting events than I have.  I've heard the stories of broken cell phones and I'll leave that to them if they so choose.  Instead, I have seen another side of Fred as a sports fan, which can best be described as Spock if Spock was a terrible, terrible Vulcan.  Fred doesn't just cheer for a sports team, he memorizes it.  That includes all manner of history like statistics, names, numbers, dates when something happened, injuries, draft placements, college tenures, and the list goes on ad nauseum.  He can trace two teams back-stories to that one moment in time when they butt heads and understand all of the in's and outs.  He can play the scenario out in his head and have a pretty good idea of who will, or at least who should, come out on top.  This is all leading up to the game, total Spock-like clarity of thought and rational judgment.

              Then comes game-time.  Eli throws a pick.  Mo blows a save.  Manning-face.  Sagging head and shoulders.  Or maybe it's just that the Giants ran right but Spock saw left-side weakness.  Maybe Joba Chamberlain hung a curve that wasn't smashed over the fences but definitely showed he didn't have his stuff.  Does it matter to Spock?  Nope, because Spock is a terrible, terrible Vulcan, and the rage is unable to be contained.  It smashes through to the surface, but to his credit, it often comes out in short bursts at first, sometimes batted back down by beer.  It takes a lot for that cell phone to launch.  But it does, or so I've heard.

             Interesting, though, is that this also happens when he's part of the team.  In softball Fred is very hard on himself (and I'd assume the rest of the team, though he does well to hide it).  It makes me really want to see Fred coach his kids someday.  Or fear it.  Well, both, really.

3. Fred the Competitor: Scott

Fred is not above competing against weak, defenseless children.

I once cohabitated with Fred. During that time, and in the subsequent medically-mandated psychotherapy sessions that followed, I've learned that he is an incredibly competitive individual, but not in the typical sense. Most folks who are competitive are desperately trying to feel better than others -- they are jerks who take every opportunity to brag about their accomplishments because they are deeply insecure about themselves, and their competitiveness is a vain attempt to impress an imposing family member, like an estranged father figure or a cruel mistress.

And while that describes Fred freakishly well, the difference is that he almost exclusively competes against himself. His competitive weaponry is pointed inwards, rather than at some defenseless bystander, like a child or a kitten. Case in point: we took a class together, and due to our friendship and our desire to avoid a bloodbath, we had an unspoken rule that we would not divulge test scores to one another. Well, at one point we broke that rule, and it turned out that I did better than he did. Fred was furious, but instead of being angry with me, he was angry at himself. And the test. And the teacher. And Obama. But most of all, himself. Needless to say, he never let that happen again.

Fred's competitiveness is like a superpower, but instead of using it for evil, he uses it for good. Not "good" in the "Superman Saves The Day" sense, but "good" as it pertains to the Frediverse. Which is a universe absolutely riddled with Peanut Butter Cups.

Fred: THIS COULD BE US!

4. Fred the Hobbyist: Scott

I've spent literally several seconds wracking my brain, and I cannot think of a single time Fred has uttered the words, "No, I don't want to do that, it sounds boring." Fred collects hobbies the way one might collect Pokemon, and strangely he doesn't get bored of them after a few days like most people. Instead, he studies and scrutinizes his hobbies, he listens to the enthusiasts, and he learns in an attempt to master. In my time, I have seen him take up guitar-playing, fish-keeping, poker-betting, cigar-smoking, cruise-ship-riding, golf-club-swinging, beer-making-and-drinking-and-also-wine-sometimes, gun-shooting, sports-watching-and-analyzing-and-yelling, advanced-shrubbery-and-yard-caring-for, dog-having, and obsessive-market-research-analyzing-that-I-barely-understand-but-try-to-keep-up-with.

This is probably related to his competitive side. If butterfly-collecting ever catches his interest, you can be sure he will immediately buy a book written by the world champion of lepidoptery, and his house will be full of butterflies in a week. Did you know there is a National Model Railroad Association? The next NMRA convention is next July in Cleveland, and I bet we could blow those nerds out of the water with a kick-ass layout! Also, have you heard about radiosport? It's a competition for ham radio operators. How hard do you think it could be to win one of those things? NOT HARD AT ALL!

Luckily, as a bystander, I can use Fred as a test case. If I ever want to check out a new hobby, but I'm not sure if I'd like it, I can quietly suggest to him that it might be cool to engage in amateur astronomy or local politics, and see what he does. I realize that this process of peer-pressuring him into extraneous activities for my own amusement might bankrupt him -- but at the same time, I kinda want to know if it'd be fun to get my pilot's license.

5. Fred the Lover: April

Artist's depiction of Fred preparing for the act of lovemaking.

HA yeah. Like I’m going to share that.

6. Fred the Analyst: April

As always, relevant XKCD.

This may sound similar to some of his attributes described above (being competitive, a sports fan, minion of Gamblor, etc.), but in the 8 years and counting that I’ve been with Fred (in the biblical sense, giggity), I have observed that he is a true researcher at heart. Of course he did research as part of his scholarly pursuits, and is currently even making a living at it--however, it’s the research into things that others may find mundane or unnecessary that are truly unique to the enigma that is Fred.

Take for example: wedding planning. See, this is what happens when you invite a chick to guest post. I’m not going to get into colors and fabric swatches and other things you might care to look up on the Knot. Instead, I’ll share the incredibly awesome way in which Fred decided that we should approach looking at potential venues. With research! He created a fantastic 6-point Likert scale for a variety of attributes that we found to be important to us. These included such areas of interest as the cost (not only the total cost but also the perceived value of what was offered with the cost), desirability of location, customer service, etc. Naturally, there was also space provided for each of us to provide qualitative measures as well, since sticking just to quantitative may be just a bit too technical and cold.

We took these sheets with us to each of the venues that we visited, dutifully filled them out in the car afterward, and then shared our findings. And in the end when we picked our chosen venue, it not only “felt right” in the gut, but it also scored highly on those carefully created Likert scales. So of course, we could both feel confident in our decision and Fred could inject something typically smoopy and feminine with just the right amount of scientific sensibility. 

7. Fred the Roomate: Patently Jersey

Editor's note: Never, EVER, Google image "hairy guy in boxers."

Most of the posters on this blog have lived with Fred at one point or another in these short three decades he has had on this planet.  I had the good fortune of living of him in college, you know, back when he was good.  It was an incredibly good year, that consisted of me trying to lure him to frat parties, and us trying to score beer.  I learned a few things about Fred during that year.  One, he likes his meat, and he likes it plentiful.  He prefers sausages made on the Foreman Grill, made in the basement.  Two, he may be the inspiration for the Wookie race from Star Wars.  Truly, I know no one that is hairier than Fred, and he frequently strolled the apartment in just his boxers.  That image haunts my dreams.  Fortunately he found the wonderfully accepting Angel that is April, who not only tolerates his furriness, but finds it endearing.  Third, this is when his poker obsession started, but he had to wait a few months into the year before he could go gambling.  Lastly, I will never bunk my beds with anyone ever again. 

8. Fred the Giver: Patently Jersey

Fred is a great family member and friend, and on top of that, he is a giver.  Referencing back to when we were roommates there were two incidents I would like to cite to, the first of which was within the first few weeks.  I had returned from a rush event at the frat that Fred had turned down my invitation to (you vagina), it was Around the World.  The event consists of going room to room in the frat, with different alcoholic drinks/shots in each room.  After I went around the world twice, I found myself with a bottle of Everclear in my hand, and ended up taking 5 shots of it before stumbling home.  What I suffered from the next day, could only be described as an epic hangover.  There was no urge to vomit (unfortunately I think this would have helped), but my head and my HEART were both pounding, I thought my heart was going to explode.  Fred spent the day at the dorm, in the event I needed to go to the hospital for alcohol poisoning.  Said hangover lasted until about 9pm.

Round 2 in life with Fred.  I realize that we are going for brevity here, so I will make this tidbit shorter.  I was

Where Santa Babies come from?

seeing a girl in the spring, that left me (unintentionally) with the worst case of blue balls ever.  I told Fred I needed the dorm for a while to deal with my problem, I waived my embargo on his smoking cigarettes, and he dared on return until I called him to tell him “all clear”.  Thank you for that.  On a similar note, last year I began dating my girlfriend shortly before we all went down to AC to gamble.  While there were 4-5 couples down there, and 2 rooms, Fred arranged for she and I to have a room to ourselves, knowing that we both lived at home with our parents.  Man was that ever appreciated.  Also, we want to know what happened to that Santa hat we left behind?

Fred is also no stranger to giving the occasional handy and ZJs… what a giver!

9. Fred the Athlete: Ryan Stevens, guest blogger

Fred: Lucy not included (or necessary)

    
It all started at "Roll Bowl". This is where I first witnessed Fred's unmatched quickness, unparalleled plyometric abilities, and uncanny mix of agility and speed. Wait...I think that was the other way around. That is what Fred thought of me. Well, he did catch a few passes, when they were in prevent defense. Mostly 5 yard hook patterns. But, you can be damn sure he recognized that prevent defense, and knew that the soft spot in it was 5 yards up the seam. The man knows sports and the man knows pattern recognition. As I reflect back on Fred the Athlete, I now see the underlying problem. It's not that Fred was a "showstopper" on the football field. It wasn't that Fred won the triple crown in his slow-pitch softball league. It isn't his left-handed-from-the-windup fastball clocking in at 53 mph. Or even that Fred's 1997 little league baseball card shows a striking resemblance to Greg Minton holding a bat like Felix Millan (insert pictures). It's that he wasn't training properly for any of these events. (If Fred had hired me at age 12, HE'D be the current New York Yankee always getting in trouble with steroids...) Let's reference back to Scott in #3 and #4, and let's tie in Fred's internal competition and success in hobbies. Let's talk about Fred's most athletic hobby he's ever taken up - running. True, anybody can "run". But to run at Fred's level, you have to be an athlete. He's become a modern-day Forrest Gump. I have deep admiration for how much Fred continues to improve - and dominate - his race running, from 5K's to marathons (and by that I am not referencing April in #5). He has the perfect mindset of a successful runner: superb internal motivation, consistent preparation, and a total disregard for leg pain. Now if only he shaved his body to become more aerodynamic, he'd be capable of sub-4:00 miles. He truly does succeed at >87.6% of all he attempts when he puts his mind to it. If he doesn't succeed, he knows exactly why he didn't and what beyond-his-control factors led to him not. So, here's my bold prediction: Fred will win the 2053 World Masters Athlete Decathlon, coached by me. He will put his mind to it, and with the proper guidance, he will dominate.

10.  Fred the Most Interesting Man in the World: Ryan Stevens, guest blogger 

See also #5

- His lawn is more finely manicured than Katie Morgan’s “lawn”.

- His cereal never gets soggy. It sits there, staying crispy, just for him.

- His analytic thinking is envied by Stephen Hawking. As is his posture.

- His body hair is insured for more money than Heidi Klum’s legs

- He is single-handedly responsible for every successful marketing campaign carried out in the last 7 years.

Disclaimer: results not typical.

- He owns his own lawfirm: Fredjarvis Brown-Anus. They never lose a case.

- He once won World Series of Poker using Uno cards.

- Bigfoot tries to get pictures of him.

- Right Said Fred named their band after him, as a tribute.

- Meta World Peace asked him for permission before changing his name. So did He Hate Me. God Shammgod did not. 

- He is still a Giants fan. 

He is, the most interesting man in the world. Fred: "I don't always drink beer. Wait, yes I do. And when I do, I don't drink crap."

Ka-Chow!

Fred, congrats on staying alive for 30 years.  Let's hope you can keep going!!  Happy birthday!!!

30 for my Turning 30, Part Two: Mini-Blogs > Mini-Doughnuts

And the title of this specific blog post is, my friend, a scientific fact.  I posted ten mini-blog posts last week, unsure what the reaction would be and uncertain whether I'd actually have the time or energy to create ten more of them (let alone twenty).  I still can't promise the full twenty, but the reaction last week was positive, so I wanted to keep going.  The same rules apply as those from last week:

• I apologize for being selfish and self-indulgent, but a man only turns 30 once and if you don't like the approach, you're welcome to read something else!
• I wrote these when I had time throughout the week, so some of them reflect serious effort and others... well, you'll see once you read them.  All of them should be somewhat interesting and only moderately offensive, though.

So last week, we proceeded from item #30 down to item #21.  Today, I'll be sharing with you items #20 through #11.  Pop open a nice bottle of Bartles and Jaymes, and let's start miniature blogging.

20.  On buying a home: it’s like going to graduate school or (presumably) having a child.  People can tell you how much work it’s going to be beforehand, but you have to experience it firsthand in order to fully understand it.  The specific home we bought, fortunately, was in good shape when we bought it – but of course knowing that induces the agita of keeping it in good shape.  For instance, I’m writing this at 9:00 am on a Saturday.  I woke up at 7:00 to return the Rug Doctor (a/k/a Dr. Rug, Ph.D.) to the supermarket before the 24 hour rental period ran out, and since I was awake, after breakfast I went outside to clean the siding on the front and back of the house using Windex and paper towels.  My father-in-law is coming by at 9:30 with the power washer so I can finish cleaning the rest of the outside of the house, since north-facing sides of homes tend to get moldy after a while.  This is a pretty typical weekend morning (from around April to November) for me.  So if you plan to give a shit about it, or unless you’re so loaded you can outsource everything, owning a house is like a part-time job.  But it’s a fun part-time job; when I started my twenties, I could barely turn a screwdriver.  Now I can complete basic home improvement tasks in a marginally competent manner.  That, my friend, is progress.


19.   It’s remarkable that I’m about to entire a decade where I’ll be working, followed by a decade where I’ll be working, followed by – if I’m fortunate enough to stay healthy and have skills that remain in demand – a decade where I’ll be working.  Looking back, I’ve only really “worked” (outside of an academic context) for six years out of my life so far.  The most important lessons of my career are yet to be learned, but I’ll say this: I see lots of people out there, either by necessity or (worse) by choice, living to work.  I intend, to the extent possible, to work to live my life.  Ain’t no wishing I spent more time in the office on my deathbed.

18.   I originally planned a post on my favorite songs of the last ten years, but that feels a little too personal to me – a little like showing everyone who reads this my underwear drawers.  Instead, I’ll do the sonic alternative of showing you my sock drawer, by listing the musical artists I’d never heard of ten years ago, and whose presence has markedly and positively impacted my life in the years since then:
 
The Killers (holy crap, Hot Fuss turns ten next year – that makes me feel older than anything else I’ve written); The Shins and their step-cousin, Broken Bells; The Black Keys; Arcade Fire; Citizen Cope; Dragonforce; The Gaslight Anthem; M83; The National; MGMT; and last but not least, a band whose music was featured prominently in my wedding reception, MuteMath.


17.   And let’s not forget the classic artists who I learned to appreciate over the last ten years: Roy Orbison, Marvin Gaye, Sam Cooke, Stevie Wonder, Boz Skaggs, The Beach Boys, and Bruce Hornsby and/or the Range.

16.    There are still moments where I feel like the world has changed very, very little since I was a kid.  I’m writing this blurb on a work-from-home Friday in October, when the office is pretty quiet and I don’t have a ton of pressing work to do at the moment.  It’s also the first full day of the Divisional Series in baseball, and Bob Costas and Jim Kaat are announcing a playoff game from the National League on the MLB Network.  In addition to being objectively fantastic at capturing the buzz of a playoff environment, Costas and Kaat are my favorite-ever baseball play-by-play and analyst combination, because they remind me so much of watching playoff games – typically in the late afternoon in October, on a small TV in my bedroom when I should have been focusing on school work – when I was in middle school or high school.  Though I watched both sports as a kid, I don’t watch basketball or hockey anymore.  And with respect to football, John Madden retired years ago and Pat Summerall is dead.  So on a perfect fall afternoon in October, being able to pop on the TV and just listen – and not really care about the Cardinals or the Pirates, but to idly sit there and absorb the conversation between these two guys who know a ton about baseball, and don’t care much about advanced statistics or what it means to be a true Yankee – at age 30 is a real treat.

15.    A big part of maturity is being comfortable enough within yourself to stay at home on a Friday night, by yourself, and watch TV and drink a couple of beers.  I’m not saying I’m there quite yet, I’m just saying it’s a big part of maturity. 
 

14.    I was a student at Rutgers University ten years ago, and now, as an alumnus and football season ticket holder, I am amazed at how far the program has come.  I distinctly remember being in the Rutgers sports radio studios as a freshman (I harbored dreams of being a sports announcer back then), listening as an awful Rutgers team – which would eventually finish 1-11 – hung with a then-dominant University of Miami team on the road.  But ultimately, the program would improve, and now if Rutgers football doesn’t at least make it to a bowl game, that’s a bad season.  Fans have become more serious, too; even the most casual fans at our tailgate can speak with some clarity about the key players on the team and the matchup at hand.  That’s awesome when you consider where the program came from; a perennial laughing-stock and a Sports Illustrated cover-dweller (for all of the wrong reasons).  It’s also a testament to Rutgers as a sprawling, decentralized, overly-bureaucratic institution that they were able to keep their collective head screwed on straight long enough to allow the program to be successful.  I’m actually pretty stoked about this season, and I think we have a chance to beat Louisville this Thursday (ED: though we did not).



13.   My close friends know my cigar rule, which I (largely) follow.  I smoke one cigar per month, and I make it a good one.  I remain incredibly concerned that if I were to smoke cigars too frequently, I’d end up addicted to smoking – something not conducive to my ultimate long-term goal of writing forty of these fucking mini-post things ten years from now.  The problem is, cigars are awesome.  Seriously, if you don’t smoke them, you should start.  The diversity of flavor in the universe of cigars is so wide, and the process of making cigars still so personal, that you can live your entire life taking notes on cigars and never find two that are exactly the same (even two of the same kind!).  Cigars pair well with coffee, beer, and whiskey.  You can have one alone or with friends, sober or while drinking.  My favorite time/place for a stogie is outside on the back patio, reading a book and listening to music with the lights on in the evening.  Plus, you don’t ever inhale the smoke, so you can have one and run a double-digit mile run the next day with no ill effects.  In moderation, they do not increase one’s risk of getting cancer, and the only problem I have with smoking them is I have to brush my teeth twice afterward.  Cigars, for the win.

12.    I spent years of my twenties maligning other people’s incorrect use of Facebook.  Because I was on Facebook from the very beginning, I see it as a static community perpetually for the benefit of people who are in the same phase of their lives I was in back in college.  To be perfectly honest, I still don’t understand where all of everyone’s drunken pictures went (I guess they were replaced with baby pictures).  Speaking of baby pictures, I will concede there is a place for them, but it isn’t Facebook (most of the time).  Parents should get an Instagram account, or ask their family and close friends to join a Google Hangout – that way, people can opt into the onslaught of parent-specific nonsense.  I remain a Facebook strict constructionist, and will prove it with drunken pictures of myself at my 30^th birthday party.  Anyway, I read somewhere that within the next 10-15 years, we are going to elect someone into a position of power in this country regardless of the publicized embarrassing or explicit photos of them from their younger days.  This is the natural evolution of our society’s moral relativism, and as a moral relativist, I personally think it’s a splendid idea.  

11.    Speaking of my 30^th birthday party, I vacillated on what I wanted to do for what seemed like months.  But I’m satisfied with my final decision – a party bus for approximately 20 people to Borgata, in Atlantic City.  You can find me there late Saturday night into early Sunday morning next weekend, just look for the drunk guy in a suit playing irresponsible blackjack.