A friend in the delicate business of Art -- the buying and selling part, that is -- writes this morning:

"When ruined widows on Central Park West call us now, they ask that when we come to the apartment we only give our names to the doorman and NOT the name of our employer.  They don't want it getting around the building.  Everyone suspects everyone else of being doomed."

The New York lawyer Franklin C. Keyes published Wall Street Speculation: Its Tricks and its Tragedies in 1904. 

Another source back east writes, "The consignment shops and pawn brokers in West Palm are being inundated right now, but if the goyim think they've dodged a bullet and they're safe, they'd better think again.  Bernie wasn't the only con-man out there, just the first to get caught.  It's all very hush hush at the moment, but I happen to know of more than one Social Register Christmas spoiled by panicked calls from the family trust officer and lawyer.  Trust me, darling.  When Muffy says it's 'ghastly' she doesn't mean the time she stepped on that ping pong ball."

It's a basic principle of the market place that any transaction involves a buyer and a seller.  Beautiful things are satisfying in so many ways, but not when you need the cash to eat and pay the maid and the mortgage.  The problem is, if everyone's trying to keep the wolf from the door, no one has a lot of money left over for pretty things.  Not even those Russian oligarchs who were buying everything in sight not too long ago until someone talked them into investing with Bernie.  Now they're unhappy.  The last thing you want, of course, is Russian oligarchs being unhappy.  It's how you end up headless in a dumpster.  So they're not buying.  You see the problem. 

You need more than luck these days to keep going.   If you want to sell something, it should be something people really need right now.  Like, food.  And water.  And ammunition.