The Art of the Dip

Ladies and gentlemen… A calm market is a dead market. And nobody brings a market to life quite like me. Morning coffee, half past nine, Markets flat, the weather’s fine. Talking heads have nothing new, Brokers yawn, the blue chips too. I tap the map and stir my cup: “Gentlemen, let’s wake it up.” One small strike, one headline hit— And there begins a beautiful dip. They call it danger, I call it range, You need a little fear to make a little change. I never gamble—I write the script. Welcome, my friends, to the Art of the Dip. Bomb it, drop it, watch it slip, Ring my broker—buy the dip. Talk of peace, the futures flip, Flash that smile and let it rip. Pump it, sell it, bank the win, Round and round we go again. Don’t call it a crash—don’t lose your grip: It’s a beautiful little dip. By eleven, panic spreads, Every screen is screaming red. Analysts in tailored suits Sell their bonds and dump their loot. I sit quietly, cool as ice— Fear is wholesale at this price. They say, “Buy when fear is in the street.” It’s even sweeter when you brought the heat. They call it chaos, I call it choice, A clearance sale in a presidential voice. No inside tip, no secret script— Just perfect timing and a beautiful dip. Bomb it, drop it, watch it slip, Ring my broker—buy the dip. Talk of peace, the futures flip, Flash that smile and let it rip. Pump it, sell it, bank the win, Round and round we go again. Don’t call it a crash—don’t lose your grip: It’s a beautiful little dip. — Mr. President, is that insider trading? Insider trading? Please. Insiders follow the market. The market follows me. At three o’clock, I take the stage, Flags behind me, doves on cue. “I’ve always been a man of peace— A lot of people say it’s true.” I lower my voice, I raise my hand, Announce the greatest peace ever planned. The market climbs, the shutters snap— My broker sells into the gap. Tell Oslo to keep October free. I don’t need the Nobel… But make sure they spell the name correctly. When the rockets fly? Buy the dip! When the markets cry? Buy the dip! When I bring the peace? Let it rip! When the green line climbs? Sell on time! That’s not luck! That’s not a tip! That’s the Art— The Art of the Dip! Bomb it, drop it, watch it slip, Ring my broker—buy the dip. Talk of peace, the futures flip, Smile for cameras—let it rip. Pump it, sell it, lock in the gain, Round and round we go again. History loves the tale I spin: A beautiful little dip—and I win. My way… Buy the dip… Sell the peace… It wasn’t a crash. It wasn’t a crisis. It was just… A beautiful little dip. Bring me the map. Which part of the world… is still trading sideways?