Your Questions About How To Pick Stocks To Short

Mandy asks…

cartoon similar to Yogi Bear, but not?

I’m not sure how old it is, I know I watched it in the 80’s, but it has a big bear, well a couple bears, and a short chubby park ranger. In one episode the bears are cleaning up trash with a pick and a satchel over their back and they’re doing a little song and dance where two bears hit their bums together (lol). In another the ranger is “planting” fish eggs to stock the small lake… anyone know what this show is??? it’s driving me crazy!

John answers:

Try this youtube link to hooked bear, a walt disney cartoon short

Ruth asks…

What is your top 5 stock picks?

Tell me your top 5 stock picks and specify how long to hold onto them (I prefer your top 5 to be mostly short term). I am well versed in stocks and I am seeing if any of your top 5’s are on my list of top 10 short term stock picks.

John answers:

Ford Motor Company ( Buy at $10 – $11 and hold until it reaches $17, then evaluate the economy, if it is still shaky sell….should hit an easy 50% return in the first year)

Bank of America ( Buy for the long-term at any price under $10…..in 5 years it will be over $50 again)

I would need to do more research and at this time I am in a hurry

Helen asks…

could anyone tell me the meaning of this short story?

this is a short story i got from the internet, can u tell me what is happening here??
———————————————————————————————————————————————————————————————-
It’s Beginning to Hurt
by James Lasdun,

‘Good lunch Mr Bryar?’

‘Excellent lunch.’

‘Sorleys?’

‘No, some … Chinese place.’

‘Your wife rang.’

He dialled home: his wife answered:

‘Where on earth have you been?’

‘Sorry darling. Complicated lunch…’

Strange, to be lying to her again. And about a funeral!

‘Tom’s coming down. Stop at Dalgliesh’s, would you, and pick up a salmon. A wild one? Better go right now, actually, in case they run out.’

It was July, a baking summer. He walked slowly, thinking of the ceremony he had just attended. Among the half dozen mourners, he had known only the solicitor who had introduced him to Marie ten years ago and had told him of her death last week.

The news had stunned him: he hadn’t known she was ill, but then he hadn’t seen her for seven years. Throughout the service he had found himself weeping uncontrollably.

The man at Dalgliesh’s hoisted a fish the length of his arm from under a covering of seaweed and ice.

How’s that?’

‘Okay. Would you –’

‘Gut her and clean her sir?’

‘Please.’

The man slit the creature’s belly with a short knife, spilling the dewy beige guts into a bucket. He rinsed the flecked mesh of scales and the red flesh inside, then wrapped the fish in paper and put it in a plastic bag. It was six inches too long for the office fridge.

‘Bugger.’

He went down to the stock room. There were gluetraps lying about with dead mice and beetles on them, but it was cooler there than upstairs. Uneasily, he placed the fish in the drawer of an old metal filing cabinet.
For the rest of the afternoon he worked on new rental listings. His eyes were burning when he stopped. It was late and he had to hurry to the tube station. Sweating and panting he emerged at Charing Cross just in time to get the six-forty.

On the train, crowded with weekenders, he found himself thinking of Marie. Sometimes she would sing a nonsense song in his ear, her mouth close as if she were whispering a secret. He remembered the strange solitariness of her existence in London; her even stranger indifference to this solitariness. They couldn’t afford hotels so they used to pretend she was a client, interested in one of the properties listed with his firm. Every home they entered was a different world. Making love in the ‘sumptuously appointed Victorian maisonette’ or the ‘cosy garden flat’ was an adventure into a series of possible lives, each with its own reckless joys: one afternoon they were rich socialites; the next a pair of bohemian students… For three years he had felt the happiest man alive, and the luckiest. Marie never asked him to leave his family, and he had regarded this, too, as part of his luck.

And then, abruptly, she had ended it. ‘I’m in love with you’, she’d told him matter-of-factly, ‘and it’s beginning to hurt.’

His wife was waiting for him outside the station.

‘Where’s the salmon?’ She asked.

A sudden horror spread through him.

‘I – I left it behind.’

She turned abruptly away, then stared back at him a moment.

‘You’re a fool.’ She said. ‘You’re a complete bloody fool.’

James Lasdun is the winner of the inaugural National Short Story Prize

———————————————————————————————————————————————————————————————-

this is a story i got from theshortstory.org.uk . i dont understand what happens (yeah i know d’oh).,
so help me please?

John answers:

It’s a pretty straightforward slice-of-life piece. Bryar is an unhappily married estate agent who’d previously had an affair with Marie. For three years she was the perfect mistress in that she made no demands of him and didn’t expect him to leave his wife and family for her.

That all changed when Marie announced she’d fallen in love with him and couldn’t go on being his mistress because it hurt her too much. The relationship ended and Marie subsequently died. Bryar’s attendance at her funeral brought back a flood of memories and emotions.

The (remarkably brief) story is nicely bookended by the obvious unhappiness in Bryar’s marriage. His wife come across as demanding, judgmental, domineering and dismissive. It’s not hard to see why he’d seek comfort with someone else.

It’s a very simple and effective story told from the third person narrative. That’s all there is to it.

Donna asks…

How is my Short story? what changes do I need to make?

Standing at the edge of the diving board, I wondered how I got myself into this horrific position.
But before the tale of my woe, I think I should fill you in on the details.
My name’s Regan Smith, and I am the unluckiest person in the whole town- trust me. Even if you don’t, I think you will by the time you have read my story.
See, it was the year ten swimming gala. The WHOLE school, plus all of the teachers were crowded round the pool. For the gala I was submitted by my P.E teacher, Miss Karras, who seemed to really, really hate me.
She was very pretty, with fire truck red hair and an easygoing smile, but some fussy people (like me) would have said it had to many teeth in it.
Anyway, I was put up (or rather, forced) for the pencil diving… and I hadn’t the clue what the heck that was.
I proceeded to clamber up on the large board- one that also happened to be the highest.
On the diving board, I tried to be confident, but with all the multicoloured eyes staring up at me, my confidence seemed to be failing me epically. My legs shook, my hands trembled and I felt a bit faint to be honest.
‘Ready, Regan?’ asked my P.E instructor, after she had done a quick demo. I prepared for my dive, while flesh coloured pinpricks on the ground clapped.
‘Just do-’ I grimaced.
However, before I could complete my sentence, she has blown the shrill whistle.
This startled me, and I gave a loud ‘Aaiieeee!’ and tumbled into the steel blue water.
Moments later, my head broke the surface, the hole in my face coughing and spluttering, while everyone erupted in laughter around me. Year eights, sevens, even the teachers and the headmistress… I may have been shivering, but my face was as hot as the Bahamas!
Miss Karras recovered herself quickly while three white cards flashed 0 ½ at me.
‘And that,’ she said, her voice wobbling dangerously on the megaphone. ‘Was Miss Regan Smith, of form 10G!
My form groaned and held their heads in their hands, while everyone else was practally rolling around with laughter.
People were still sniggering as I scampered back into the changing rooms on my own.
I quickly got changed into my uniform, then hauled my rucksack on my back. I left the changing room, my face burning. I felt like I could fry an egg on it.
People were coming from the pool now, going into the changing rooms. People having finished their role in the gala were still snickering quietly. Most of my form, once they saw me, gave me death glares.
Turning away, I felt worse than when I did when I was preparing to dive.
Utter dread flooded me as I remembered I had left my swimming bag back in the changing rooms.
Cursing under my breath, I started running the way I had just been in such a rush to flee from.
Cannonballing through the doors, I realised too late that there was a wet patch on the floor. The rubber soles of my shoes started to slip and slide, as easily as ice-skating. I tried to pull of a stunt of jumping over the rest of the wet patch… and failed.
I skidded the length of the changing rooms, and managed to knock down a group of orange-skinned girls years older than me. They fell down as easy as tenpins, but, unlike tenpins, they gave a shriek of outrange as they fell with a hard ‘THUD!’ to the floor. I untangled myself from the mass of arms and legs, grabbed my bag, then ran as far away from Greenblade school as possible.
Now, I’m hiding in my room, writing this all down to you. I can pick up the phone, let alone go back to school again… I’ll be a laughing stock! My form will slaughter me as soon as I walk through the doors!
But bet any money you like, my mother will find a way to make me. I may go in with dyed hair or a face vale or something along those lines.
Now you see I’m just a naturally unlucky teen. Nothing new there.
Anyway, I have to go. My delightful mother is screaming up the stairs for me to get ready.

Lots of love,
Regan
-X-

How is it? What changes do I need to make? Remember, it is in the form of a diary…
Thanks!

John answers:

I think it’s interesting, and in a good way (:
I’m just wondering: is this the whole story? Because it feels like it is missing closure or something. Just something is missing for it to be a short story.
I like the word choice and detail that you use, but I want to know more about this form. I was confused about it at first and had to re-read a part before I caught on. I think you can finds way to connect to the reader more with this character.
Lastly, I’m not sure if you wanted it to come off like this, but it comes off silly to me. I’m not saying that is a bad thing, that’s just how I read it. It sounds kind of like an early teen book/story. Again I’m not saying that is bad, just giving my opinion.

Hope this helped. (:

Susan asks…

(short Description) Is he interested?

So I posted a longer description but no one answered 🙁

(Long Description) Uninterested guy or maybe not? maybe polite? friendly?
So.
There’s this cashier guy working at my bookstore. I can’t tell if he’s being friendly or interested. He’s very outgoing and friendly parties and the like.(knowledge from friend)

we first met while I was just browsing around the shop when he tried to talk to me He’s pretty talkative as in he initiates conversations with customers like where do they work and messes with them “oh sorry you can’t touch that!” 😉 he jokes. so I didn’t think much of him talking to me.

(2 months later btw I only talk to him in the store.

Well, I tried to add him on FB but 3 weeks went by and he didn’t accept it. I was annoyed so I mentioned it to him and he simply said he doesn’t go on FB because he used to be addicted to it “but not like drugs” um… was I supposed to laugh? I assumed the lame excuse was for not knowing me enough so I stopped by more often to talk a bit with him and removed the sent request for another time.
during christmas I caught him looking at me look away look at me look away one day. Very obvious!

6 months

I find out from my mutual friend he had a gf but they broke up 3 months ago. maybe he just isn’t looking for something. maybe he’s not over his ex?

I dont know. Its summer now. I saw him randomly once at the park playing soccer. he waved to me and asked “how are you?” but he quickly went after the ball. so I didn’t get to talk to him.

Anyways I am pretty impressed by this guy from what I know. I want to get to know him better too but I dont want to come off creepy.

the conversation before this I asked him for a recommendation by his favorite band. That is all. maybe that weirded him out?
so I saw him randomly at borders again. it turns out he wasn’t as happy to see me. Usually one of us waves and smiles. odd. he didn’t smile and ask how I was as he usually does. so I asked a question about stock on a book he paused because he couldn’t remember the shipment date he was trying very hard to remember. so he finally answered and I left afterwards he just didn’t seem there. maybe hung over? his eyes were not bright like the other times. Note that he was not shaved as he usually is so maybe that made him feel ugly? it was a full out beard like yetti man not clean shaved as I am used to seeing. also I wasn’t dressed better I was in t shirt and jeans.

overall most of the time I initiate the conversations. he replies and is very helpful like he draws maps for me. he also has this amazing death stare when we talk that I love because I can just gaze into his eyes longer! but maybe its just confident communication and nothing more?

So yea once I had my eyes set on someone as a crush lasted years because I turn into denial mode but I dont that to happen with the cashier guy. It’s stupid to waste my time. so tell me internet peoples!

Lastly. to clarify I want to know if he is in anyway attracted to me as a friend, acquaintance, or something else.

I tell you his eye contact is read as friendly and happy to see me especially when he smiles 🙂
He is not doing it out of politeness. He’s only been dull eyes once and that was when he had a strange beard.
Then again he is working so he ignores me if he’s talking to his manager.

Once, I was buying a book and I was angry so we made eye contact and I gave him a dirty look even though it wasn’t intended for hiim and instead of ringing me up he tried to (seriously) pick up imaginary papers from the floor. and I was rung up by another cashier.

Thanks for your time and help!

John answers:

He’s probably friendly, if he was interested he would have made an effort to talk to you more.

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