30 July 2015

Forecasts, forecasts, everywhere

So the gold price drops, so the gold forecasts drop. Some recent calls in order of bearishness:
Towards the end of 2010 I started recording forecasts in a spreadsheet, as I noticed many analysts revised their forecasts frequently in response to moves in the gold price. By 2012 I had given up as it was a lot of work to make one point – that in general analysts were just following or projecting the trend.
The chart below shows the forecasts I accumulated from late 2010 to early 2012 (the clustering around July are yearly average forecasts) and I’ve added in the recent ones above. [read more]
Some may recognise the influence on the post title. I started to muck around with the original but haven't been able to get too far. Maybe those with more creativity could make some suggestions. Not sure what the Albatross should represent.
The Rime of the Ancient Goldbugee
It is an ancient Goldbugee,
And he stoppeth one of three.
'By thy long gold beard and glittering eye,
Now wherefore stopp'st thou me?
The Hedge Fund's doors are opened wide,
And I’ve told them I am in;
The punters met, the strategy set:
May'st hear the merry din.'
He holds him with his skinny hand,
'There was a newsletter,' quoth he.
'Hold off! unhand me, gold-beard loon!'
Eftsoons his hand dropt he.
He holds him with his glittering eye—
The punter he stood still,
And listens like a newbie trader:
The Goldbuggee hath his will.
The Punter he sat on a stone:
He cannot choose but hear;
And thus spake on that Goldbugee,
And mumbled in his beer.
'My account was cleared and I did cheer,
Merrily did I logon
The trend lines were so obvious,
Nothing could go wrong!
Gold came up upon the morn,
Out from the lows came he!
And he shone bright, and by the night
I had traded profitably.
Higher and higher every day,
Till at the peak in eighty-'
The Punter then he beat his breast,
I lose the whole lot matey.
The Fund hath opened its doors,
Red as a rose is she;
Nodding their heads before her goes
The merry advisory.
The Punter he beat his breast,
Yet he cannot choose but hear;
And thus spake on that ancient man,
The bright-eyed Goldbugee.
And now the BEAR-MARKET came, and he
Was tyrannous and strong:
He struck with his o'ertaking wings,
And chased us south along.
With sloping masts and dipping prow,
As who pursued with yell and blow
Still treads the shadow of his foe,
And forward bends his head,
The ship drove fast, loud roared the blast,
And southward aye we fled.
And now there came both mist and snow,
And it grew wondrous cold:
And bears, giant-high, came thundering by,
As brown as ??.
And through lines the poor chart signs
Did send a dismal sheen:
No bullish shapes did we ken—
The bear was all around.
The bear was here, the bear was there,
The bear was all around:
It cracked and growled, and roared and howled,
Like noises in a swound!

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