Thursday, September 10, 2026

Where Was My $2,000? Now He's Talking $5,000

I wasn't planning on writing about politics today, but here we are. I guess I'll just start.

I haven't watched the news myself, but from what I'm hearing, the President has floated a new promise: if Republicans hold Congress in the midterms, everyone gets a $5,000 check. Turns out that's roughly right — Trump announced a $5,000 "dividend" tied to tariff revenue, contingent on a GOP win in November. It's already drawing bipartisan pushback and could face legal challenges, for what it's worth.

Funny thing is, I'm still waiting on the $2,000 tariff dividend he promised almost a year ago. According to ABC News, that one still hasn't shown up either. So forgive me if I'm not holding my breath on this new number.

Anyway, here's how I ended up down this road: I was on the phone with my father — we don't talk much these days, and he's been trying to "rekindle things" lately — and he brought it up.

Whenever he gets going on politics, I ask him a few questions he usually can't answer. It's become our routine at this point. He was a DFLer back when we lived in Minnesota. Once we moved to Kansas, he became a Republican. Now? I think he's drifting left again. That's fine by me — everyone's entitled to change their mind.

The conversation always starts the same way: "I wonder what that idiot in Washington has done today." When I push him to explain why he calls the man an idiot, it usually comes down to wondering what he's shot his mouth off about now.

I remind him the guy isn't a career politician — he's a billionaire businessman who says what's on a lot of people's minds already. He just doesn't have a filter.

Do I agree with everything Trump says? No. But I respect that he says what's on his mine, out loud, with his name attached — unlike some people these days, who'll say anything from behind a keyboard or a camera and never own it. Looking at you, social media influencers.

The alternative, I guess, is someone polished and politically correct who has no idea what they're doing. And honestly — whatever happened to common sense anyway?

Anyway, that's my rant for the moment.

Until next time,
Stay Old, Bold, and Bald and may be a bit Grumpy too!

Thursday, September 3, 2026

Movie Review

 I'll just say it right now, I don't usually suggest movies to others. Why? Because everyone has different tastes. I like Action and Horror movies; my wife likes rom-coms and "chick flick" stuff; my daughter enjoys Anime and the like; and I have no idea what my son likes.

I'm not sure how to classify this one other than maybe a "feel-good" movie? I think that I have seen it about 6 times already. Heck, I had to look for it one day because it wasn't in the top 10 for the day.

Ok, I've seen this movie in just a couple of places: YouTube and Amazon Prime. Since I don't watch much traditional TV, I don't know if it was in theatres or not.

Now, enough of the background and to the reveal.

The movie: Project Hail Mary.

I don't know what it is about that movie, but I seem to go from one end of the emotional spectrum to the other. One moment, I'm laughing. Not a belly laugh, but enough of one to put a smile on my face. Then, I'm bawling like a baby, followed by another chuckle.

With about 1 hour left, it is over 2.5 hours so it's kinda long, my favorite scene pops up. Something about that little alien is magical. Somehow, through it all, they manage to save each other.

I may be a bit "friend" challenged but these guys seemed to get it right.

Anyway, that's enough of my blabbering.

Until next time,
Stay Old, Bold, and Bald and maybe a little Grumpy too!

Tuesday, September 1, 2026

Judging from the Bench

What has happened to our country?

I grew up in Minnesota until the mid-1980s, and I posted on another Social Media platform that I was embarrassed by how Minnesota went from Minnesota Nice to Minnesota Ain't So Nice. There was no civility; they were blowing whistles at people just to warn someone they'd never met that the authorities were in the area and to get out. And I was getting kinda tired of hearing that I was a Fascist Nazi because I didn't share their beliefs. The very people that I used to call "friends" became someone that I didn't want to associate with. I unfriended some and then just completely deactivated my account. I was done!

Now, I read in the news that another judge is governing from the bench. This is ridiculous. It is not the job of a trial court to dictate any policy, left or right, from the bench. For some reason, this judge decided to throw out all confessions for a captured 9/11 plotter because the confession, obtained in 2007, wasn't valid and was coerced. Huh?

I'm not sure what evidence he pulled this from, and it is not for me to "judge", but what?

Now, I'm reading about a person that holds a public office told a group of people to put Humanity above this group's Safety? What is with people? What ever happened to common sense?

I know there was a time where our politicians would argue during the day and go out for drinks after. Not any more. The deviciveness that is out there won't even allow for family members to talk because people on one side think that their "kind" should be steadfast. I don't get it.

When did breaking the law become okay? Look at SF where anyone can basically shoplift whatever they want? Immigration being such a hot topic? If they broke the US law to get in, why should they be allowed to stay? I don't get santuary cities at all. 

I guess that Rodney King has it right when he said, ",,,can we all get along? Can we get along?"

And, for goodness sake, stop with the idological BS and just do your job! 

Thursday, August 27, 2026

Hide Behind a Keyboard

Hide Behind a Keyboard

I've been called a lot of things. Idiot, A # # hole, Jerk. Old man who should sit down.

I made a mistake by saying, on a social media platform, that I was embarrassed to be a native Minnesotan because of what people were doing up there. I got roasted. Comments like "you should know better" were met with "I quit drinking the Kool-Aid."


Most recently, the guy next door sent a scathing, certified letter, letting me know that I was overwatering and killing his trees. One line really bugged me because we haven't spoken about this, AT ALL. The line, "I would rather have communicated like normal neighbors, but it appears as though you're not interested in that." Funny, as a text message, that has been blocked, just doesn't seem like "communicating" like normal neighbors. Also, who told this "guy" to plant trees that are susceptible to disease, right on my property line? Not me.


I blocked him as I was advised to because he sent a "text message" saying that I had mowed into this yard and that this was not acceptable. Dude. I just got home from the hospital! To this day, thanks to Wallenberg Syndrome, I still have balance issues and a bad limp.


The letter itself was a rant, like he spoke. One long paragraph with ZERO suggestions as to how to correct it. So, I took the exact opposite approach. I completely turned it off and wrote "It's off!" on the signature receipt that the tool suggested.


The Guy Who'd Never Say It to Your Face

Take that same guy and put him across a table from me. Coffee shop, doesn't matter. Now watch what happens to his courage.


It evaporates. Every time.


Because it was never courage. It was distance. The internet gives cowards an invisible wall, and the wall is a keyboard. Behind it, everybody's a tough guy. Everybody's got the hot take, the gut punch, the thing they'd "never let slide." Strip away the screen name and the avatar and put a real face on the other side of the table, and that same guy will suddenly find a reason to check his phone.


I spent 30-plus years in enterprise IT and telecom, sitting in rooms with executives who'd cut you down over a missed SLA without blinking; to your face, in real time, no hiding. I've had a stroke that took the strength out of my left foot and made we relearn how to walk like a man twice my age. I've sat at a trading desk and watched a position go against me in real time, no delay, no do-over button. None of that prepared me for the particular flavor of gutlessness I get from friends, neighbors, and strangers online. Because at least the guy in the boardroom had to look at me while he said it.

Why I Stopped Hiding, Even When It Would've Been Easier

Here's the part I'll own: I get it. Hiding is easier. I could post my trades without my face attached, keep my mouth shut about the stroke, the drop foot, the fact that I'm bald and 60 and not particularly interested in pretending otherwise. Nobody would know it was me if a trade blew up or a post didn't land. Anonymous failure doesn't sting the same way.


But anonymous anything doesn't mean much either.


I named this blog Old, Bold, and Bald because I got tired of watching people, myself included, plenty of times, trade their spine for a login. You want to say something, say it. Own it. You want to disagree with me, disagree with me where I can see you do it. Let's talk about it. Face to face. I'll take a real argument from a real person over a drive-by insult from a cartoon avatar every single time, because one of those exchanges might actually teach me something.

The Keyboard Isn't the Problem. You Are.

I'm not making some tired "the internet ruined civility" argument. The internet's a tool. A hammer doesn't make you swing it at somebody's head. The keyboard doesn't make you cruel, it just makes cruelty free. No eye contact tax. No tone-of-voice tax. No standing there watching your words land on an actual human being who now has to carry them around for the rest of the day.


Take that tax away and you find out fast who somebody really is underneath the manners.


So here's my ask, and it's not complicated. Before you type something, you wouldn't say standing in front of the person, sitting across the table, in the room, close enough that your voice would shake a little saying it, don't. Not because the internet police are coming for you. Because if it only exists behind a keyboard, it was never real in the first place. It was just noise from someone who may be too afraid to actually talk with you.


I'm old. I'm bald. I've got a foot that doesn't always do what I tell it to and a trading account that occasionally reminds me I'm not as smart as I think I am. I've got nothing left to protect by pretending to be someone else online, and honestly, neither do you. Say it with your name on it, or don't say it at all.


That's the whole post. Come find me and tell me I'm wrong, but be open-minded enough to "Be curious, not judgmental." I'll be here.


Until next time,

Stay Old, Bold, and Bald, and maybe a bit Grumpy too


Sunday, August 23, 2026

A Modern Day Scrooge

I got a rather nasty, venting, certified letter from my neighbor complaining that I was killing his spruce trees because I “overwater.” So, I turned the system completely off. I’m not sure who told him to plant those things right on the property line anyway.

Years ago, he sent a text complaining that I, who has balance issues, mowed into his yard. He was blocked and I was advised to stay away from him. Now, I have hired a landscaping company so that I don’t have to deal with this level of selfishness. FYI, it ain't cheap.

He couldn’t just walk over and talk like “normal neighbors.” No suggestions or recommendations provided. Just a rant from a guy who wrote this letter like a 5th grader who writes like he speaks.

Not sure if he knows this, but there is a disease that is eating at Junipers in the KC area called Cercospora needle blight.

Moral of the story: don’t act like Scrooge and point your finger with no suggestions on how to fix the problem until it’s too late. Oh yeah, you’ve been blocked in pretty much every possible way, so you will need to come over and speak with us to resolve whatever issues you may have.

Until next time,
Stay Old, Bold, and Bald

Thursday, August 13, 2026

Cheat Code Satisfaction

For the longest time, I've been doing a puzzle online on a popular social media platform. After each puzzle, it would show me my time along with the times of a few others who'd done the same one. 

Every time I finished, I'd notice that the people I was "competing" against finished in a fraction of my time. And every time, I'd grumble that they had to be cheating, but I never actually took the time to figure out how.

Well, yesterday I thought about it a little more and searched for cheat codes for these puzzles. Lo and behold, there were a bunch of sites.

This morning, I decided to try one. All but one of the answers were right. For that one puzzle, the words were correct, but a couple of them didn't line up. 

I found myself getting frustrated because I wanted so badly to "beat the clock" and beat everyone else. And I did beat the clock. But I didn't feel fulfilled, because it wasn't really me who solved the puzzle. 

Sure, I filled in the blanks, but I was just copying from another source, kind of like looking over someone's shoulder during an exam. I didn't do that then, and I won't do it now.

I know cheaters are going to cheat. But there's something to be said for honesty being the best policy.

I've always said I don't like to reinvent the wheel; meaning it usually makes more sense to do what's tried and true instead of banging your head against the wall trying again and again. I still believe that when it comes to fixing things. But this isn't the same thing.

Bottom line: I just didn't feel the same satisfaction as when I solved the puzzles on my own. Now that I know why some people post such low times with no errors and no hints used, I'm going to keep doing it my way — the honest way.

I'm not saying this approach is for everyone. Like I said, cheaters are going to cheat and take whatever advantage they can find.

But until today, I felt real satisfaction doing it myself. Sure, I used a hint here and there; sometimes just to get to the next step, sometimes just to admit there was no way I'd have figured it out otherwise.

At the end of the day, it's the satisfaction of doing it myself that leaves me with a sense of what I'm actually capable of. Even if it's just a puzzle.

Until next time, stay Old, Bold, and Bald — and maybe a little grumpy too.

Thursday, August 6, 2026

Ghosted for a Year and Now???

 Over a year ago, I was having breakfast meetings with a couple of guys that I was looking to join if the stars aligned.

After being ghosted for a couple of months, I figured that they had moved in another direction, but they didn't even bother to call me to let me know.

Then, a few months ago, I got a text from one of the guys asking how I was. Needless to say, it took me back a bit. I was cordial and responded that I was keeping busy, followed by a good to hear type of response the next day. Then, nothing.

Then, yesterday I received another text from the same guy asking if I was available Friday for "Breakfast." Seriously? I waited a bit and then responded, in a cordial manner again, that before I would confirm, I wanted to know the agenda and the expected result. I thought that was fair since they milked me for all that it was worth. They were trying to get business with the org that I just left, and they wanted to know what they could so that they could get an inside advantage.

His response was, "Sure, agenda is really we wanted to thank you for your help at XXX, catch up with you to see what you were doing, and to see if XXX can help you if we can. We have significantly grown our organization built around HC." 

They just wanted to thank me and see what's up and what they can do for me. Um, how about that job we discussed over a year ago?

After over a year, 07/24/2025 to be exact, I get this request. 

My response was, "No need to thank me! I'm also not sure what Smart Dog IT would do for me at this point, so I'll pass on breakfast for now. Appreciate you thinking of me. Good luck with the growth!"

After that, the next day, I got an "understand" and a "take care for now."

What's the old expression? "That's a fine how do you do."

Not that I expected something incredible to happen, but that's all that I got? Take care for now? I don't even know what that means.

I guess I'm back to square one. Only this time, I'm not holding my breath.


In the meantime...

Stay Old, Bold, and Bald. Not to mention a bit Grumpy too.

Monday, August 3, 2026

"Good Fit" Is Code for Younger and Cheaper

Let me tell you something nobody puts in the recruiting brochure. Somewhere around age fifty, you stop being "experienced" and start being "a flight risk for retirement," "maybe not a culture fit," or my personal favorite, "overqualified." Overqualified. As if knowing what I'm doing is suddenly the problem.

I've got more years behind me than in front of me at this point. I'm not going to pretend otherwise — I'm bald, I'm blunt, and I've buried enough coworkers' bad decisions to have earned the right to be both. But here's what twenty-five-year-old me didn't know and forty-something HR screener doesn't want to admit: the stuff that actually keeps a company from setting itself on fire is the stuff you only learn by getting burned a few times. Nobody hands you that in a bootcamp certificate.

The Interview That Wasn't About the Job

I sat across from a hiring manager once — young guy, sharp, probably smarter than me on paper — who spent forty minutes asking me questions that had nothing to do with the role and everything to do with whether I'd "keep up." Whether I was comfortable with change. Whether I'd take direction from someone younger. I answered every one of them straight, because I've got nothing to hide and less patience for games.

What he didn't ask: whether I could walk into a mess nobody else wanted to touch and actually fix it. Whether I've sat in the room when the wheels came off a project and had to be the calm one. Whether I've made the same mistake he's about to make and already know how it ends.

That's ageism. It doesn't wear a sign. It shows up dressed as "team fit" and "energy" and "long-term potential," which is corporate for we've already decided you're closer to the door than the desk.

They Can't Say "Too Old." So They Say "Good Fit."

Let's call it what it is. Nobody in HR is legally allowed to say "we're passing on you because of your age" — that's a lawsuit waiting to happen, and every company past a certain size has a lawyer who's told them so. But they still need a reason to write down, something clean and defensible that closes the file without opening a claim.

Enter "good fit." Enter "culture fit." Enter "we went a different direction." None of it means anything specific, and that's exactly the point — it can't be challenged, because it was never really about anything. It's not a real assessment. It's a placeholder for a reason nobody's allowed to say out loud.

I'm not saying every "not a good fit" is code for "too old." Sometimes it's true — sometimes the fit genuinely isn't there. But when it shows up right after they find out how many years you've got, or right after you mention you've been doing this since before your interviewer was born, don't kid yourself about what just happened. The language was built to be unfalsifiable. That's a feature, not a bug.

The Math They're Not Doing

Here's the part that gets me. Companies love to talk about risk management right up until the hiring conversation, and then all of a sudden they want to bet everything on unproven potential instead of demonstrated results. I've built things. I've broken things and fixed the break. I know what a bad decision smells like three meetings before it happens, because I've made that exact bad decision myself, on my own dime, and learned the expensive way so nobody else has to.

That's not a liability. That's the whole point of hiring someone with a track record instead of a hunch.

What I'm Not Going to Do

I'm not going to dye anything, dumb down my resume, or pretend I don't know what I know so I look less threatening in a Zoom call. I built a rule for myself trading — my stop is my decision, everything before that is noise — and it applies just as well here. My experience is my decision to keep. I'm not apologizing for it, and I'm not hiding it to make somebody younger feel better about the org chart.

If a company can't see the value in someone who's already made the mistakes, already fixed the mistakes, and doesn't need three months of hand-holding to be useful — that's their loss, not mine. I've got the scar tissue to prove I'm worth the seat. I just need somebody willing to look past the bald head and the years to see it.

For Anybody Else in This Fight

If you're out there right now, sending resumes into a void and getting form-letter rejections, or none at all, from jobs you could do in your sleep, you're not broken, and you're not too old. You're just running into a system that hasn't figured out yet that experience isn't the opposite of energy. Keep showing up. Keep being blunt about what you bring to the table. The right door doesn't care how many candles are on your cake.

Old. Bold. Bald. And still, without question, worth the hire.

Until next time,
Stay Old, Bold, and Bald

Friday, July 31, 2026

Not to Lose More Friends Over Facebook

I've been around long enough to watch a lot of presidents come and go, and one thing hasn't changed: everybody's always sure this is the term that finally breaks the country. It hasn't yet. But something about the last decade of politics feels different; we seem to "disagree" more today instead of finding like-minded people. Why can't we be in the same room and talk like civil people?

People throw around the phrase "Trump Derangement Syndrome" a lot these days. I'm not here to litigate whether that's a real thing or a talking point; smart people land on both sides of that one, and it usually says more about who's talking than what's actually true. What I do know is this: political intensity, whatever you want to call it, has a cost. And most of us are paying it without noticing.

So here's my Old, Bold, and Bald advice, no diagnosis required:

1. Social media isn't the place for your unfiltered opinions.
It's not a conversation; it's a platform with an audience you can't see. Nobody's mind changes because of a heated 11pm post. But someone will screenshot it. Someone always does. If you've got something to say, say it to an actual person, over actual coffee or a simple phone call, where tone survives and you can read the room and not hide behind a keyboard.

Just don't put it on social media. I had a friend that kept posting things without fact checking. When I would point out the inaccuracies or the dated material. I would get beat up because I was from Minnesota and "should know better." My response to a couple people that said was that I left over 40 years ago and that it when I quit drinking that kook aid.

I simply responded that I had enough, peace out!

One "friend", who was a neighbor when we lived in Dallas, pinged me on Instagram to call me a racist. That was during Obama's second term. WTH? My daughter is Asian.

My first day in a political science class had the teacher walk in and asked, do we want government to control everything we do or do we choose to rely on ourselves. It was at that moment that I chose my side.

2. FAFO is not a strategy.
"Find out" sounds tough until what you find out is a strained family dinner, a friendship that quietly ends, or a stranger's anger following you around online for a week. I've learned the hard way: being right in an argument nobody remembers next month rarely covers what it costs you now.

I have a friend that we discussed the ACA (aka Obamacare). We had a civil discussion and came back to work the next day. That's the way it should be.

3. Coming together doesn't require agreeing.
It requires remembering the people around you are more than their voting record. Your neighbor who sees it differently is still the guy who shoveled your driveway during the ice storm: although mine never do but that's a story and rang for another time. 

I'm old enough to know outrage burns a lot of energy for very little return, and bold enough to say so out loud: save your fights for the people who matter and let the noise be noise.

Opinions matter folks. Keep them to yourself.

Until next time, stay
Old, Bold, and Bald

Wednesday, July 29, 2026

Too Much Politics on TV

 After years of deviousness in this Country. Now, CNBC Squawk Box has become yet another political machine, and I don't get it.

They used to be a great source for business stories about what is going on in the economy and why stocks may be reacting the way they are.

Now? It has turned into a machine about will this cause that to happen and why is one side of the aisle better than the other.

I watched a YouTube video where the discussion was the party of common sense vs. the party of crazies.

Now, I get it but you simply can't change stupid. However, I take the approach that, if it doesn't affect me, I'm gonna leave it alone. Just don't push your ideology on me. 

As I've stated before, I came of age in the 80s, so my Gen X thoughts are way different than the crap that is being pushed on me today. I left Minnesota and told "old" friends that I woke up after NOT drinking the Kool-Aid.  

I'm not sure when leaving your issues at the voting table became you need to believe and vote the way I do, or you are a Nazi. WTF is that? Have these "kids" looked at what the Nazi's represented versus how it translates to today? Being on the Nazi right is not the same as being on the political right today. That being said, the crazies don't see things that way. 

I'm sure that you can guess which side I tend to lean, but that is a story for another day. Woke should lead to Wake The Heck Up, kids.

That being said. Until next time.

Stay Old, Bold, and Bald. Not to mention Grumpy.

Monday, July 27, 2026

Be Curious, Not Judgmental

I don't have Apple TV, but I've seen this clip from Ted Lasso many times. You probably know what I'm saying; if not, check it out here:

https://youtu.be/CDRXv80F3Us?si=hMu0T-qvQzED2VKh

That single clip brings a tear to my eye darn near every time because I can relate.

That being said, I grew up in a suburb of Minneapolis but have spent most of my adult life living in the KC area.

I was not one of the popular kids in school, and to this day, I'm not 100% sure why I was belittled, ridiculed and felt pretty much defeated. 

Was it because I played in the band? Very possible since it was not the thing to do in the early 80's. In otherwords, this is where no one bothered to be curious. At that time, everyone was judgemental.

If these so call "friends" would simply ask today, maybe they would understand my thoughts and philosophies and why, sometimes taking after my mom, I hold a grudge.

Until next time,

Stay Old, Bold, and Bald

Thursday, May 7, 2026

Nobody Told Me the Market Has a Personality. Took Me a While to Figure That Out.


A no-nonsense field report on swing trading, YouTube snake oil, the myth of futures glory, and why the afternoon session may be your friend.


Let's get one thing out of the way before we start. I am not your trading guru. Never have and never will be. I don't have a Discord server with three tiers of membership. I'm not selling you a course for $997 "normally $2,997." I'm just a guy who's been around long enough to know what doesn't work, and stubborn enough to eventually figure out what does, for me. 

Your mileage will vary. That's the whole point.

Trading is one of those rare arenas where experience genuinely counts for something, provided that experience didn't also make you broke and bitter. The market is one of the few places left where the old dog can absolutely learn new tricks, and equally, where the old dog can get his tail handed to him if he gets too cute. I've been both dogs. I prefer the first one. Nothing like having the tail wagging the dog if you get my drift.

"The market will teach you everything you need to know. The tuition is expensive. Pay attention and don't repeat the same class twice."
 - Something I had to learn the hard way, and it sucks.


Do your own thing. No, really.

Here's what nobody says out loud: no system works for everyone, and anyone who tells you otherwise is selling something (i.e., YouTube, X...). Volume Profile, MACD crosses, Elliott Wave, Fibonacci retracement, candlestick patterns, sector rotation, these are all tools, not gospel. Some traders swear by one. Some use a cocktail. The ones I trust most usually built something over time, tested it, busted it, rebuilt it, and can explain exactly why it works for them and not necessarily anyone else.

That is the discipline. Not following someone else's rules, building your own, and then actually following those. The market doesn't care about your feelings or your system. It just moves. Your job is to develop a repeatable edge and stick to it with the emotional consistency of a retired accountant.

Learn from others. Just watch your wallet around the teachers.

I'm not anti-education. Read the books. Watch the "real traders." Study methodologies. There is a tremendous amount of legitimate knowledge available — some of it free, some of it worth paying for. The problem isn't learning; it's who you're learning from.

The tell-tale signs of a scam masquerading as mentorship are not subtle once you've seen them once: the lifestyle-first marketing, the vague results, the "limited seats" urgency, the testimonials from people with no verifiable track record, and the beautiful irony that the only provable income stream is the course itself. Real traders trade. They may also teach, but the trading comes first, and you can verify it.


DO YOUR HOMEWORK!!! I can't stress that enough.

There are legitimate educators out there, methodologists who have built real frameworks and documented their thinking rigorously. Seek those people. I live near Missouri, the Show Me State, so be skeptical of the rest. Your skepticism is free. The tuition at the school of bad mentorship is not. Trust your gut. It has done me well, and sometimes, not so well.


Sell in the morning. Buy in the afternoon. Let it breathe.

This one took me longer to trust than it should have, but here we are: the opening hour of the market is a cage fight. Emotional, reactive, full of noise. Every overnight position holder, every institutional desk, every algorithm with a trigger is firing at once. Prices move violently in directions that frequently reverse by noon. That volatility can be an opportunity, but it can also be a trap dressed in very convincing clothing.

What I've found works for my swing approach is taking profits in the morning when prices are elevated, and the bid is still hot, and hunting for entries in the afternoon when the dust has settled, the weak hands have shaken out, and the real range of the day starts to establish itself. The afternoon session — particularly in that window before the close — tends to give you cleaner signals and better entry points. Things have had time to breathe. So have you.

This is not a rule handed down from a trading deity. It is what works for my style, my risk tolerance, and the way I read markets. Test it yourself. Keep notes. Let the data, your data, tell you if it's true for you.


Set your stops. Every single time

This is the one non-negotiable. I don't care how convicted you are. I don't care if your analysis is perfect and every indicator you trust is aligned. You set a stop loss, and you do not move it further out when the trade goes against you. That last part, the moving of stops, is how small losses become account-defining losses. The market can stay irrational longer than you can stay solvent, and it is very happy to prove that to you.

Early in 2025, when tariffs were the topic that had traders scared, I lost over $20,000 over the course of a month because I didn't set stops and didn't pay attention until it was too late. Learn from the mistakes of others. That one hurt: BAD.


Swing trading stocks. Slower. Saner. Mine.

I swing trade stocks. Multi-day holds. Sometimes a week or two. I am not trying to capture every tick. I am looking for a setup with a clear thesis — a stock that's consolidating above a key level, showing the right technical structure, in a sector that's seeing rotation, and I ride it until it hits my target or my stop.

It is not glamorous. There are no war stories from a frantic morning session. The pace allows you to think. To check your work. To not trade out of boredom or anxiety. The slower cadence is a feature, not a bug, especially for those of us who have accumulated enough life experience to know that urgency is usually manufactured and patience is usually correct.

My father trades futures and options. They just aren't my thing. BTW, options can be very volatile and costly, especially if you don't "Guess" right.


About those futures influencers.

I tried it. Day trading futures. The kind where you're watching a one-minute chart and trying to scalp ticks out of a market that has no memory, no sentiment, and no patience for hesitation. I understand the appeal, the leverage, the liquidity, the tax treatment, the idea that you can make a week's worth of gains between breakfast and lunch.

Here is what the YouTube channel with the Lamborghini thumbnail and the $2,000 course neglected to mention: the futures market is among the most efficient, most unforgiving trading environments that exists. The participants on the other side of your trade include algorithms that have been running for years, institutional desks with more capital and faster infrastructure than you will ever have, and professional traders who do nothing else, all day, every day. You are not getting an edge in that environment on day three of your journey. Or day three hundred.

That does not mean futures are off-limits forever. It means that the casual framing of futures day trading as a side hustle with massive upside that "anyone can do" is, at best, wildly misleading. The influencers showing you their winning trades may not show you their funded account drawdowns, their prop firm washouts, or the weeks where nothing connected. The P&L they display is curated. Yours will not be.

I came back to stocks. I came back to my system. The one I built, tested, and trust. If futures are your thing, build your way into them slowly, with real money you can afford to lose, and with a ruthless commitment to the stop. But go in with your eyes open — not with the expectations set by a highlight reel on a platform built for engagement, not truth.

"Your system only works if you actually follow it. Especially when you don't feel like it."
 - Obvious in retrospect. Took me a minute.


That's my experience and opinion. No secret sauce. No proprietary indicator. Just a slow-cooked philosophy built from more mistakes than I'd like to count or admit, a healthy distrust of easy answers, and a genuine appreciation for what the market can teach you if you stay humble enough to keep listening.

Do your own thing. Set your stops. Sell into strength in the morning. Buy the calm in the afternoon. Keep learning. Keep your hand on your wallet near the guys with the yachts and the whiteboards.

That's all I've got for now. Go trade well.


Until next time,
Old, Bold, and Bald





Saturday, January 31, 2026

A Bald Minnesotan’s Guide to Losing My Patience (and Apparently Becoming the Villain)

 There are days when I wake up, stretch my back (which now makes more noise than a gravel road), pour my coffee, take one look at the world, and think: “Well… this is why we can’t have nice things.”

As a native Minnesotan, I’ve always carried a certain pride — the kind that comes with surviving winters so cold they practically exfoliate your soul. But lately?
Let’s just say I’ve reached the point where I’m embarrassed to admit where I’m from. And trust me, if a Minnesotan is admitting embarrassment, you know it’s serious. We’re a people who apologize when other people bump into us.

But now, apparently, asking a simple question or raising an eyebrow makes me the villain of the story. Not just your everyday villain, either — oh no. I’ve somehow become the full‑on, over‑the‑top, cape‑wearing antagonist from a 1950s cartoon.

One minute I’m wondering why things look like chaos, and the next minute someone’s acting like I’m about to tie a damsel to railroad tracks for dramatic effect.

I didn’t sign up for this supervillain origin story.
I mean, if I’m going to be cast as the bad guy, can I at least get a theme song? Or a henchman? Maybe a volcano lair with good Wi-Fi?

Honestly, half the time I’m not even mad — I’m just confused. Confused and a little tired. And hungry. Why is nobody ever labeled “hangry” instead of “hostile”? Seems more accurate.

I miss the days when we could have a disagreement without someone dramatically clutching their pearls and declaring me the human embodiment of doom. I miss conversations that didn’t end in sighs, groans, or someone storming off like they’re auditioning for a soap opera.

But hey — being Old, Bold, and Bald means I’ve earned the right to call out nonsense when I see it. Even if the world insists on misunderstanding me in increasingly creative ways.

At this point, all I can do is laugh, shake my shiny head, and keep showing up anyway.
Because if I’m going to be the villain, I might as well be a fabulous one.

Signed,
Your Friendly Neighborhood Bald Guy Trying Not to Lose His Mind

Saturday, July 19, 2025

Coldplay Kiss Cam: Caught in the Act, Caught in the Consequences

 

Let’s talk about the Coldplay concert the other night. Not the music, not the lights, not even Chris Martin’s vocals; even though I think that they are terrible without an auto-tuner. No, this is about the Kiss Cam moment that turned into a full-blown corporate scandal.

Two executives from tech firm Astronomer, CEO Andy Byron and Chief People Officer Kristin Cabot, were caught on the jumbotron in what looked like a cozy embrace. But when the camera zoomed in, they panicked. Byron dropped out of frame like he’d just seen a ghost, and Cabot covered her face like she was dodging paparazzi. Chris Martin, ever the showman, quipped, “Either they’re having an affair or they’re just very shy.” The crowd roared. The internet exploded.

Turns out, both are married. Just not to each other.

Now, here’s the thing: if you don’t want to be seen, don’t put yourself in a public position where you can be seen. You’re at a concert with 65,000 people, wrapped around someone who isn’t your spouse, and you think the Kiss Cam won’t find you? That’s not bad luck; it is just bad judgment.

The fallout has been swift. Viral videos, deleted LinkedIn profiles, a company investigation, and a whole lot of memes. And while some folks are crying foul over privacy, let’s be real: the moment wasn’t stolen—it was served up on a silver stadium screen.

So to the rest of us: let this be a reminder. If you’re going to play games in public, don’t be surprised when the scoreboard lights up.

Stay Old, Bold and Bald

Saturday, June 21, 2025

Wake Up, People — Israel Isn’t the Problem

 Here’s an enhanced version of the blog post with suggested visuals (you can add them directly into your Blogger post or website editor):


Wake Up, People — Israel Isn’t the Problem

📅 Posted on: June 21, 2025
✍️ By: Old, Bold, and Bald


Israeli flag flying strong against a stormy sky

There’s a dangerous trend sweeping the Western world right now, and it’s not just the latest TikTok dance or the next weird way to drink overpriced coffee. No — this one actually matters. It’s the bizarre, misplaced sympathy for a regime that openly calls for the destruction of Israel while actively developing nuclear weapons. And it’s being fueled by a liberal media echo chamber that’s more concerned with optics than truth.


🇮🇱 Why I Stand With Israel

Israel isn’t perfect — no nation is. But it is a beacon of democracy, stability, and innovation in a neighborhood where freedom is in short supply.

Small country, big target. Israel’s surrounded, yet still thrives.

They don’t start fights — they finish them. They value free speech, religious freedom, and the right to exist. That’s more than you can say for the ayatollahs in Tehran.


☢️ Iran: The Real Threat

Iran’s regime isn’t just developing nuclear capabilities for fun. They’re not stockpiling uranium to light up their cities. They want leverage. They want power. They want destruction — and they’ve made that crystal clear.

Let’s not pretend we don’t know what this means.

They back terror groups with our own money, thanks to naïve deals pushed through by weak-kneed politicians who think being nice to dictators wins you peace prizes.

Spoiler: It doesn’t.


📺 The Liberal Media Is Selling You a Lie

The people crying “Free Palestine” while waving flags of groups that throw gays off rooftops and indoctrinate children with hate — they’re not informed. They’re indoctrinated themselves — by headlines written in editorial rooms full of latte-sipping ideologues who've never faced a rocket or worn a uniform.

When truth becomes inconvenient, narrative wins. Until it doesn’t.

They ignore context, distort facts, and present emotional fiction as objective truth. And the worst part? People believe it.


🚨 Here’s the Bottom Line

  • Iran must give up its nuclear program. Not negotiate. Not “slow down.” End it.

  • Israel has the right — and responsibility — to defend itself.

  • The West needs to pick a side. And if you're still confused, go live in Iran for a week. Then we’ll talk.


Stay Old. Stay Bold. Stay Bald.

Don't fall for the noise. History has seen this movie before — appeasement, denial, and then disaster. Let’s not play that role again.

And to the keyboard warriors sipping oat milk and tweeting Hamas talking points: Maybe sit this one out. Grown-ups are talking.

Saturday, June 14, 2025

Give Me an Emoji, Dammit!

 You know what grinds my 60-year-old gears? The fact that in the year 2025 — with AI smarter than half of Congress, Teslas doing figure-eights in parking lots, and my coffee pot talking to my fridge — Twitter (or X, or whatever Elon’s calling it this week) still only lets you react to a post with a heart. Just one, solitary, painfully earnest little heart.

Look, not every post deserves love. Some deserve a laugh. Some raised an eyebrow. Some a facepalm so intense it should come with a chiropractor referral.

What I want—no, what we deserve—is emoji reactions. I’m talking:

  • 😂 for the tweets that made me choke on my coffee

  • 🤦‍♂️ for the ones that make me question the human gene pool

  • 💀 for the truly unhinged posts that are so off-the-rails, I have to respect the chaos

  • And maybe 🤬 for when someone decides to be loud and wrong in the same sentence

Facebook’s had this since the dinosaurs roamed the News Feed. LinkedIn — a place where people lie about hustle culture for likes — has more expressive options than X. What gives?

Is it that they think the single red heart will keep the rage machine humming? Keep us from defusing tension with a simple “haha”? Because believe me, I’d much rather emoji-laugh at some blowhard’s meltdown than pretend I "love" it. The heart, in this case, is a lie.

I say it’s time we storm the algorithm. Demand a real range of reactions. Bring some humanity back into the hellsite. Or at the very least, let me acknowledge that someone’s meme made me do the old man snort-laugh without having to reply like a boomer.

Until then, I’ll keep hitting that heart ironically, grumbling like a man who remembers when emojis were called “smilies” and internet arguments ended in AOL chatrooms.

Stay bold, stay bald,

Old, Bold, and Bald 🧓💥👨‍🦲

Monday, June 9, 2025

ICE Raids, Riots, and the Rule of Law: What Happened to Common Sense?

 Let’s call a spade a spade. I’ve been around long enough to know when the wheels are coming off the wagon—and folks, they’re wobbling hard right now.

ICE raids in Los Angeles are back in the news, and like clockwork, out come the protestors, the chants, the signs, and, sadly, some rioters—trashing property and blocking streets as if that’s how democracy works. They’re screaming about “rights,” “justice,” and “resistance,” while conveniently ignoring one tiny detail: the people they’re defending broke the law just by being here.

Now, before someone starts frothing at the mouth and calling me every name in the politically correct book, let me be clear—I’m not against immigrants. I’m the grandson of one. But my ancestors came here legally, stood in line, signed the papers, and worked their butts off. They didn’t sneak in under cover of night and then demand constitutional protections that aren’t even legally theirs to begin with.

So here’s the question: what “right” do people who are in this country illegally think they have to stay, to protest enforcement of the law, and to be protected under a Constitution meant for citizens and those here legally? Are we just rewriting the rules now based on feelings and hashtags?

You want to protest? Fine. It’s a free country—for Americans. You want to burn flags and riot? Not fine. That’s not protest—that’s anarchy. And when you riot in defense of something that’s illegal by definition, you’re not making a moral stand—you’re lighting a match next to the rule of law and daring it to burn.

We can’t have a country that picks and chooses which laws to enforce based on who’s yelling the loudest or crying the hardest. We either have borders or we don’t. We either have laws or we have mob rule. And frankly, I didn’t spend sixty years respecting this nation’s laws just to watch them get trampled by people who were never supposed to be here in the first place.

So to the rioters: you’re not brave. You’re not righteous. You’re not fighting for justice. You’re demanding special treatment for people who broke the rules. And that’s not how America is supposed to work.

You want change? Fine. Change the laws. But until then, spare us the lectures, the Molotov cocktails, and the moral grandstanding. Because at the end of the day, being loud doesn’t make you right—and being illegal sure as hell doesn’t make you entitled.


Stay strong, stay sharp, and don’t let the nonsense wear you down. Most importantly: Stay Grumpy!
—Old, Bold, and Bald

Saturday, May 31, 2025

Old, Bold, and Bald: Owning Every Inch of Who We Are

 There’s a certain power that comes with age. It doesn’t whisper—it roars. You stop caring about the nonsense. You laugh louder, live slower (on purpose), and carry a quiet confidence that doesn’t need to be announced. And if you're like me—Old, Bold, and Bald—you wear it like a badge of honor.

The "Old" Part

Let’s get this straight: “old” isn’t a four-letter word. It’s a trophy. Every wrinkle? A roadmap of stories told, jokes cracked, and lessons earned the hard way. Sure, the knees might creak and the memory might forget why you walked into the kitchen—but the soul? The soul’s never been sharper.

Being old means you’ve seen things. Lived through change. You’ve ridden the highs and lows of life’s rollercoaster without throwing up (too much). You've learned to stop sweating the small stuff—because experience teaches you that most of it is small stuff.

The "Bold" Part

Boldness isn’t just for the young. In fact, boldness belongs to those of us who’ve already weathered a few storms. It's not reckless—it's refined. It’s standing up when it would be easier to sit down. It’s telling the truth, even if it shakes the room. It’s dancing at weddings even when your back is screaming “please don’t.”

Bold is wearing what you want, saying what you mean, and doing what you love—whether or not the world approves.

The "Bald" Part

Let’s address the shiny dome in the room. Baldness? It’s liberation. No more overpriced shampoos, no combs, no drama. And while some people chase their disappearing hairline like it's a runaway train, others of us embrace the chrome dome.

Bald is beautiful. It’s aerodynamic. It’s sleek. And best of all—it’s real. No hiding. No pretending. It says, “This is me. Take it or leave it.”

Final Thoughts

Old, Bold, and Bald isn’t a state of decline—it’s a stage of arrival. It’s where wisdom meets courage and says, “Let’s do this.” It’s where we stop trying to be someone else and finally become fully ourselves.

So here’s to all of us who’ve earned our stripes, scars, and shiny heads. We’re not fading away—we’re turning up the volume.

Still here. Still standing. Still laughing.

Still Old, Bold, and Bald—and loving it.

Saturday, May 24, 2025

Old, Bold, and Bald: The First Week of Freedom

 One week. Seven days. 168 hours.

It’s been a week since I stepped away from my Just Over Broke (JOB), and honestly? It feels more like a vacation than a transition. No deadlines breathing down my neck. No alarm forcing me to shuffle into the daily grind. Just the wide-open space of possibility—and the strange realization that I had to check a calendar just to remember what day it is.

There’s still gas in the tank. I’m not done. Not even close. This isn’t retirement; it’s recalibration. The search isn’t for any opportunity—it’s for the right one. Something that matches experience with ambition, that respects the road already traveled while offering a new destination worth driving toward.

This week was about unwinding. Next week? It’s about refining. Because when you’re old enough to know better, bold enough to take a leap, and bald enough to own it, there’s no settling for less than what fuels the fire.

#OldBoldAndBald #NewBeginnings #MoreThanJustOverBroke #StillRolling

Saturday, May 17, 2025

Last Day on the Hamster Wheel – A Grumpy Farewell from the Bold, the Bald, and the Burned Out

Well, that's it. Stick a fork in me. After years of dragging my sorry, balding carcass through meetings, outages, false promises, and soul-numbing IM threads, 05/16/2025 was my last day at work. And no, there wasn't a cake. Not even a dry, store-brand donut. Just a farewell from the few that mattered and radio silence from the ones that should’ve.

Let me tell you how it went down, because this grumpy old man isn’t going quietly.

First off—saying goodbye to the team was brutal. Not because I’m sentimental (okay, maybe a little), but because these are the folks who stood shoulder-to-shoulder with me during some real messy times. We kept things running through constant chaos. Daily page outs, duct-taping systems just to keep the damn lights on. And that pain—we shared it. One teammate took their own life during those dark times. That kind of grief doesn’t fade. So yeah, I sent out a group message, and three personal notes to the long-haulers who were in the trenches with me. They earned that respect.

And then there's leadership—or should I say, lack thereof. No parade, no “hey, why are you leaving?” Not a peep from my so-called leadership peers. Except for one guy I’ve known over six years. He actually reached out like a human being. Everyone else? Crickets. Heck, even my director ghosted the last morning huddle. Left early before it was his turn to speak. That’s right—bailed on my last meeting with the team. Real classy, JERK.

And don’t get me started on the CIO. Tuesday meeting, he’s all “Sorry I didn’t connect sooner. I’ll reach out later in the week.” Did he? Of course not. Maybe he lost my number. Or his spine.

But amid all this bureaucratic brilliance, one old director of mine (a rare breed of honest leadership) told me what I needed to hear: You did the right thing. Walking away was about my health—mental and physical—and that place was never going to change. And let’s face it, he’s right. You don’t fix a rusted-out ship by repainting the deck chairs.

So what now?

I’ve got a third interview with a new org next week. We'll see where that goes. I’m not holding my breath, but I’ll show up like I always have—bold, bald, and still too stubborn to quit.

Retirement? Not yet. But liberation? Damn right.

Stay grumpy,
—Old, Bold, and Bald

Where Was My $2,000? Now He's Talking $5,000

I wasn't planning on writing about politics today, but here we are. I guess I'll just start. I haven't watched the news myself, ...