THE FRIBBLE
Wednesday, September 15, 1999
To Love a Fool
By
It is a well-known fact that military wives lead a frenzied existence matched only by oilfield wives, with relocations frequent and subject to change without notice. Police wives and firefighter wives live in constant fear of widowhood. Lawyer and doctor wives have to check ID when their husbands come to the door, since the infrequency of the event tends to cloud the memory of hubby's face. (Side note: As a lawyer brat, I can testify that at age five I once called a plumber "Daddy." Well, he was about the same shape as dad. Really.)
Anyway, you all know about these folks. But do you all really understand what it means to love a Fool?
Most people decorate their houses with paint or wallpaper. My Fool's house is decorated with 25 years of Value Line and all 15 years (minus three issues) of Investor's Business Daily (IBD). I forgot what color the carpet is, the carpet that I had once noticed didn't match the countertops. Doesn't matter. Can't see it anyway. I can't recall the last time my Fool and I went out for a meal without him bringing along the Workshop rankings or the daily Fool on the Hill. Kind of kills the mood at the charming Italian restaurant, eh?
Perhaps the most telling tale I can relay to help you understand is a classic kindergarten tale: "What I did on my summer vacation." You see, my Fool is working on a momentous project to backtest a bunch of the mechanical stock screens studied in the mechanical investing board. This Foolish crusade (a.k.a. the Foolish Workshop Backtest Project) led us to sunny Palo Alto, California -- not to sightsee or catch some rays, but to bathe in toner and breathe in the stale dust from the basement of the Stanford Business Library.
For three days and I don't know how many hundred dollars, we bought the pleasure of standing in front of a photocopier, knee-deep in IBD until our backs ached and the copier broke, at which point we just moved to another machine and kept on truckin'. If it weren't for the much-appreciated help of my new best Fool HipHop, we'd probably still be there. The toner under my fingernails and the residual allergies from the dusty archives are nearly gone, but the memory will never fade.
I don't want you to think that I'm complaining. Life with a Fool has many advantages:
- Not having to loan your life partner money for gas.
- Free financial advice (this one got me out of debt when we first met).
- Lots of free weekend time with the galfriends (when he's in the library digging up old Value Lines for the backtest).
- Getting to meet lots of cool Fools (big ol' seafood party in Palo Alto with TMF Elan, Sparfarkle, and many other Foolish giants).
But seriously folks, despite it all, I wouldn't have it any other way. I love my Fool more than life itself and hope we have many Foolish years together. I'll pass, however, on any more Foolish vacations.
(Note: The use of "wife" in this Fribble is not intended to be used for any type of gender discrimination. I merely use it so I don't have to say "spouse" all the time.)
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