“Morning or night, Friday or Sunday, made no difference, everything was the same: the gnawing, excruciating, incessant pain; that awareness of life irrevocably passing but not yet gone; that dreadful, loathsome death, the only reality, relentlessly closing in on him; and that same endless lie. What did days, weeks, or hours matter?”  ― Leo Tolstoy, The Death of Ivan Ilych

This is going to be one of those really personal, navel-gazing posts that I do from time to time. People seem to respond well to these, although I doubt it’s particularly wise from a business perspective to engage in such spleen-venting. After all, someone considering an annual subscription to Slope Plus might have second thoughts if they truly knew what I thought about day and night, so it would behove me, I think, to keep lying to you and pretend things are just peachy, even though they aren’t. (I will also note, early on, that I toned this post WAY down, since it was much, much darker before I sanitized it).

Another reason I hesitate on doing any posts besides those yammering on about stock charts is that I’d rather not give my detractors any pleasure in my own pain. I am an opinionated person, and the world hates – – absolutely hates – – a bear. You would never do what I do if you knew. I like to imagine myself spiritually lofty enough to love my enemies, but the sad truth is that I’d probably prefer that they be tortured to death. You would too, I imagine, had you been in my shoes for a little while. (more…)