Riding with the Carnies

I have mucho to discuss here. Well, not mucho, but two things.

First, a company whose stock I own (symbol: SFCC) came under fire today because, and get ready because this is priceless, their CEO was accused of bullying the immigrants who enroll their prescription drug clinical trials. Specifically, he said that if any of these immigrants talked to the press, he'd have them all deported. Boy, I can pick 'em. In all seriousness, a nasty temper towards immigrants is almost a prerequisite for me when making investments. Yeah, revenue growth and a good balance sheet are nice, but is the head dude willing to stand up to an uppity Paraguayan who can't keep his mouth shut?

Second, I got to drive my sister's car last night and it was an interesting experience. In my car, I'm used to taping my health insurance card to my chest before any journey, just in case the tires explode and my body is launched into oncoming traffic. In hers, not so much. I felt safe while making turns, I didn't scream with every gust of wind, and I even got to experience the thrill of acceleration while going uphill. In my truck, every ride is like a turn on a rickety, wooden roller coaster from the 1950s. Some drunk carnie is grinding the gears and every thirty seconds, you have to tell yourself, "It probably makes that noise all the time." Her car is like a space age, Batman-licensed ride that takes you underwater and feeds you filet mignon between loops.

This doesn't mean I'll be replacing my car any sooner. It just means I'm wishing that much more for someone to steal it or smash the crap out of it while I'm not in it. Christmas is the season of miracles; get to work, people.