Dumb Money: Adventures of a Day Trader

Overview


As you read this, five million Americans are day-trading. Not since gold was discovered in California have more people dropped out of their old lives and come running for the promise of a big score. For a time, Joey Anuff was among them. He has emerged-enriched, enlightened, and exhausted-to share his story.
        
In a marriage of Anuff's own experiences with the brilliant investigative work of his ...
See more details below
Available through our Marketplace sellers.
Other sellers (Hardcover)
  • All (26) from $1.99   
  • New (3) from $10.74   
  • Used (23) from $1.99   
Close
Sort by
Page 1 of 1
Showing All
Note: Marketplace items are not eligible for any BN.com coupons and promotions
$10.74
Seller since 2010

Feedback rating:

(48)

Condition:

New — never opened or used in original packaging.

Like New — packaging may have been opened. A "Like New" item is suitable to give as a gift.

Very Good — may have minor signs of wear on packaging but item works perfectly and has no damage.

Good — item is in good condition but packaging may have signs of shelf wear/aging or torn packaging. All specific defects should be noted in the Comments section associated with each item.

Acceptable — item is in working order but may show signs of wear such as scratches or torn packaging. All specific defects should be noted in the Comments section associated with each item.

Used — An item that has been opened and may show signs of wear. All specific defects should be noted in the Comments section associated with each item.

Refurbished — A used item that has been renewed or updated and verified to be in proper working condition. Not necessarily completed by the original manufacturer.

New
Fast shipping. Reliable product.

Ships from: peachtree city, GA

Usually ships in 1-2 business days

  • Canadian
  • International
  • Standard, 48 States
  • Standard (AK, HI)
  • Express, 48 States
  • Express (AK, HI)
$10.74
Seller since 2014

Feedback rating:

(4)

Condition: New
2000-04-18 Hardcover New Fast shipping. Reliable product.

Ships from: Brooks, GA

Usually ships in 1-2 business days

  • Canadian
  • International
  • Standard, 48 States
  • Standard (AK, HI)
  • Express, 48 States
  • Express (AK, HI)
$14.92
Seller since 2011

Feedback rating:

(24)

Condition: New
New in new dust jacket. Sewn binding. Cloth over boards. 240 p. Audience: General/trade. *~*Gift Quality! ! *~*FREE PRIORITY MAIL (U.S. ) UPGRADE** to SHIP to ALL 50 STATES! ! We ... SHIP **THIS AFTERNOON or NEXT POSTAL DAY! ! ** (We work hard to enjoy a top rating on all selling sites. ) NO Remainder Marks or inside page markings! Non-smoker environment. We are very careful regarding our packing/shipping. **CONFIRMATION OF DELIVERY INCLUDED! ** Read more Show Less

Ships from: Denham Springs, LA

Usually ships in 1-2 business days

  • Canadian
  • International
  • Standard, 48 States
  • Standard (AK, HI)
  • Express, 48 States
  • Express (AK, HI)
Page 1 of 1
Showing All
Close
Sort by
Dumb Money: Adventures of a Day Trader

Available on NOOK devices and apps  
  • NOOK Devices
  • Samsung Galaxy Tab 4 NOOK 7.0
  • Samsung Galaxy Tab 4 NOOK 10.1
  • NOOK HD Tablet
  • NOOK HD+ Tablet
  • NOOK eReaders
  • NOOK Color
  • NOOK Tablet
  • Tablet/Phone
  • NOOK for Windows 8 Tablet
  • NOOK for iOS
  • NOOK for Android
  • NOOK Kids for iPad
  • PC/Mac
  • NOOK for Windows 8
  • NOOK for PC
  • NOOK for Mac
  • NOOK for Web

Want a NOOK? Explore Now

NOOK Book (eBook)
$13.99
BN.com price

Overview


As you read this, five million Americans are day-trading. Not since gold was discovered in California have more people dropped out of their old lives and come running for the promise of a big score. For a time, Joey Anuff was among them. He has emerged-enriched, enlightened, and exhausted-to share his story.
        
In a marriage of Anuff's own experiences with the brilliant investigative work of his Wired and Suck colleague Gary Wolf, Dumb Money explores and explains the world of day-trading as has never been done before. No strategy is too crackpot to try, no news break too dubious to play off, no so-called guru too shady, no online chat room too pathetic. Using the rhythms of a day trader's typical day as its frame, Dumb Money is a dispatch from the front lines of the stock-market revolution, a brutally Darwinian battleground on which some become wildly rich and more become part of the body count. It is essential reading for online investors, off-line investors, voyeurs, concerned citizens, and adrenaline freaks alike.
Read More Show Less

Editorial Reviews

Publishers Weekly - Publisher's Weekly
Literate day traders are bound to enjoy this brisk, canny account of one day in the life of young profiteer Joey Anuff, provided they can tear themselves away from their browser windows and news feeds. Anuff, who created the edgy humor site Suck.com and racked up a six-figure trading account when he made an early killing on eBay stock, takes us through the rhythms of the Nasdaq trading day as experienced from his San Francisco loft. With CNBC blaring in the background, we wake up to the blistering pace of morning trading, segue into the "midday dead zone" while hitting up a few novice-filled chat rooms, and then wait out the market close. Anuff peppers his real-time vignettes with reportage on the evolution of day trading, revisiting the scene of killer Mark O. Barton, whose rampage through the Atlanta offices of All-Tech Investment Group put day trading on the national radar screen, and harking back to legendary traders like Harvey Houtkin, "b te noir of the NASD." To his credit, Anuff explores the cliquish culture of veteran traders and explains plenty of insider babble from the Nasdaq exchange. Yet the book's tone wavers between deliberate cynicism and paranoid delusion, which may be faithful to day-trading psychology but can make the narrative seem contrived. When Anuff concludes by renouncing day trading and its dumb money for a real life, one feels as though the persona of the mercenary, bug-eyed trader has been a bit of a swindle. (Apr.) Copyright 2000 Cahners Business Information.|
Mazer
Arnuff is clearly jaded by his experiences, but perhaps that's the best way for his to deliver his tale. His diary is refreshingly free of fawning over the glory of the Internet...It's simply a personal story—sometimes hilarious, sometimes heartbreaking—about the addictive, sadistic world of online trading.
Brill's Content
Read More Show Less

Product Details

  • ISBN-13: 9780375503887
  • Publisher: Random House Publishing Group
  • Publication date: 4/18/2000
  • Edition description: 1 ED
  • Pages: 219
  • Product dimensions: 5.50 (w) x 8.25 (h) x 0.90 (d)

Meet the Author

Joey Anuff is co-founder and editor in chief of Suck, the Web's pioneering daily humor Web site. He lives in San Francisco.

Gary Wolf is a regular contributor to Wired and other magazines and the author of the forthcoming book Bengali Ty-phoon: The Rise and Fall of Wired Ventures. He lives in San Francisco.

Read More Show Less

Read an Excerpt

CHAPTER 1

VISUALIZE MONEY


Dawn-4:50 A.M. Pacific Standard Time

I am in bed, but I'm not sleeping.

Things could be worse. I could be long.

There was a time when I would hold a position overnight, but I found it destroyed even the distant dream of shuteye. Mornings are bad enough without wondering if I'm going to start the day screaming obscenities at my computer screen as the shorts go bonkers dumping some scandalous POS I was stuck with at yesterday's close. POS is one of the many acronyms that have come to pepper my speech in the year since I became a day trader. An IPO, for instance, is an initial public offering of stock, perhaps in an Internet company with dwindling cash reserves and no profits. SEC stands for the Securities and Exchange Commission, a federal agency that does various things that remain obscure to me but that often figures in the stories of stocks I am following. POS is an acronym used with dismaying frequency on the Silicon Investor message boards by a stock guru named Anthony Elgindy, whom you will meet in a few hours-under less than ideal circumstances. POS refers to many of the stocks I make money on. Since this story is governed by the rules of full disclosure, I have to admit that POS stands for "piece of shit."

My problem this morning is that without a position to worry me, I have trouble becoming alert. Every day I wake to the voices of CNBC, set to come on automatically at ten minutes before five A.m. And every day I have my first mini-panic right then, at the moment the lucidity of my predawn dream is replaced by the calmly alternating voices of Mark Haines and Maria Bartiromo, who seem like they'vebeen talking to each other forever.

Wait, I say to myself, still too groggy for an exclamation mark but troubled all the same, how long has the TV been on? Have I missed the open? Did I oversleep? And it takes all the effort in the world to turn my head and look for a quote from the red numbers on my digital clock. It says 4:50:06. The TV has been on for six seconds. I have won my first victory over the numbers.

Attentiveness slowly builds from there. Lying in bed, I notice a sensation that is halfway between Christmas morning and the day of your first sphincterotomy, a creeping sensation not of alertness but of anticipation and anxiety. I couldn't go back to dreamland if I wanted to. But I'm far from awake enough to make split-second financial decisions that will make me rich or ruin my life. In ten minutes or so, promarket trading will begin, and between now and then I have to remember how to cogitate.

If I were long overnight, thinking would be easier, but more painful. When I was an innocent new speculator, ten months ago, I would go to sleep with positions open, and my first thoughts of the day would be of multiplication tables. In the seventeen and a half hours between market close and the next day's open, revolutions in perception are commonplace, especially in the volatile lowcap stocks where I've made my biggest money. All night long, the amateur traders battle on the Internet message boards, insulting each other and trying to pump the price up or down, depending on whether they are long or short. When I held my positions, I was motivated to follow the battle as it dragged on for days, and I would spring up each morning, eager to loam how fate had treated me. Instead of doing jumping jacks, I got revved by multiplying 1500 shares of YHOO by 2, 4, or 57/8 dollars.

But in the year gone by, I have grown up and put away childish things. These days, if I need to tabulate my folly I simply refer to the handy promotional mouse pad I got from a day-trading brokerage. The gimme pad features a grid showing the gains or losses on trades of 200, 500, 600, 800, 1000, 1500, and 2000 shares on stocks that move in 1/32 increments. No need to work excessively hard: here is the subtotal at a glance.

And anyway, I no longer need to calculate subtotals in the morning, because in the fall of 1998 1 became a day trader, not in the loose, vernacular sense of the phrase encompassing as it does everyone from the casual Yahoo investor to the sixteenth-point penny-stock scalper-but in the true, volume-trading, ending-the-day-in-cash sense. When I became a day trader, I made it my rule not to hold positions overnight. Therefore, I no longer get up each morning to the possibility of a miracle or a disaster. The downside is that this makes it a lot harder to bring the world into focus. I have to get going from a dead stop. No profits, no losses to prick the brain.

It is now five A.M., and I put on a pot of coffee, though I know it won't work. Next I turn on my monitors. The computer whirs all night, but that's okay; to me it sounds like the ocean. I reboot the system and turn my modem off and on again, flushing out any voodoo irregularities that may have built up. I do the same for my digestive system, munching a cold, cinnamon-flavored frosted Pop Tart.

Coffee is preposterously overrated is as a stimulant, though it does have other, healthful effects. The masterful Martin "Buzzy" Schwartz, who promoted himself as "Wall Street's Champion Trader," pointed out in his piquant autobiography how important it is to take laxative precautions in the hours before trading, as an unwelcome bathroom break can be damaging to your net worth. Thank God, coffee still has the needed effect.

After the third cup of coffee comes the high point of my morning (up to the point I make money). I open the friendly white box and chew a tab of Nicorette. I marvel at how many ashtrays I'd need if I were trading as a smoker. Good traders are supposed to be bloodless machines, according to the stereotype, but my Nicorette gives me a feeling of sensual, reflective pleasure as profound as any experienced by poets or mountain climbers; plus, I can make money at the same time.

Finally, it's time to got busy. I open a chat window or two, logging in to various real-time day-trading discussion rooms: free ones with names like daytraders and bastages, and some I've paid for, like mtrader and mtclass. At best, I'll find the time to follow one of them, but if I don't have all of them open, all through the trading day, I tend to get stress headaches. I bust open an Internet Explorer window to briefing.com, enjoying a special thrill if I've done so before they release the first of what will ultimately be fifty or so 150-word bulletins on trading stocks. And then I pull up the quotes.

Unfortunately-maybe it was the Nicorette-now I'm too relaxed. The day is dawning lavender and pink over Mount Diablo in the east, and with the FDA-approved two-milligram dose of orally administered nicotine coursing through my veins, it feels good simply to be alive, even if I haven't made a million dollars yet and here I am almost thirty. I am tempted to cut class. What would happen if I bashed my bare heel through this whirring, whining bank of monitors and went out for a stroll in the brightening city?

This is a mental trap I've learned to recognize and avoid. There will be plenty of time for enlightenment later, after I've banged the market up and down and retired on the tax-free municipal bonds I plan to purchase with my profits. The key to getting rich is wanting to be rich. And the key to wanting to be rich is not meditating on everyday beauty but thinking about other people-especially people you don't like-who are already rich. Success in this business is all about motivation, and although this book is not a training manual, I would like to share with you the special process I use when my attention wanders. Other successful traders hold weekend seminars and charge thousands of dollars for secrets of this sort. I don't need that extra cash. Here's my technique, revealed for free.

First, I close my eyes for a moment and imagine myself rising out of my body, through the twenty-four-foot coiling of my loft and into the skies above my neighborhood, which is south of Market Street in San Francisco, near the foot of the Bay Bridge. To the east, facing commuters driving into the city, is a neon billboard announcing the week's Lotto jackpot. The prize this morning is three and half million dollars. I rise above the sign and look down upon the new construction. Auto shops and printing businesses are being replaced with two-story structures that look like the shells of racquetball courts but are really the wooden frames of one-room, $600,000 live-work condominiums. Waiting to buy the new homes are people I've worked with in the Internet industry for the past five years, every one of them more successful than me. I imagine my Internet colleagues looking up at the lottery sign and laughing with warm condescension at its puny payoff. One of them repeats a statistical factoid for my benefit. "You are less likely to win the lottery than you are to die from an infection by flesh-eating bacteria." He chuckles, winningly.

I think back on the time I had lunch with Jeff Bezos, the founder of Amazon.com, the year after he founded his company. We were sitting together at an outdoor buffet during a dull technology conference, and I smidenly considered asking him for a job. After all, I read books. Perhaps I should renounce my labors at an Internet start-up and join the quiet side of the industry. Go write reviews or something. But I was too busy with the dessert plate to give this serious thought. We finished our petits fours, shook hands, and parted. That skinny, balding guy in the open-collared white shirt with a bit of cream from an eclair leaking out of the corner of his mouth is a multibillionaire now, I remind myself. Then I think of a person I once interviewed for a job, and turned down, who went over to Netscape to write press releases six months before their initial public offering. He currently lives in Hawaii, where he is learning guitar.

Finally, I drift west, over the Mission District, and stare at a billboard that carries a giant advertisement for SportsLine.com, an online sports information network. Tiger Woods, many times larger than life, stands beside two slogans. The first says "Expect Greatness." Slightly below, there is an even more inspirational tag line: "NASDAQ: SPLN. " SPLN is SportsLine's stock symbol. It is on the billboard to remind people that while they may never play a game of golf with Tiger Woods, they can still get a piece of the action. And not merely by visiting the SportsLine site that's almost beside the point. The story of SportsLine--SPLN-lies in the opportunity to purchase one or many shares of the company's stock.

The billboard works: somebody made big money off of that tip. And that somebody wasn't me.

I feel my concentration sharpening. By the time the market opens, I might even be ready to trade.


This is a mental trap I've learned to recognize and avoid. There will be plenty of time for enlightenment later, after I've banged the market up and down and retired on the tax-free municipal bonds I plan to purchase with my profits. The key to getting rich is wanting to be rich. And the key to wanting to be rich is not meditating on everyday beauty but thinking about other people-especially people you don't like-who are already rich. Success in this business is all about motivation, and although this book is not a training manual, I would like to share with you the special process I use when my attention wanders. Other successful traders hold weekend seminars and charge thousands of dollars for secrets of this sort. I don't need that extra cash. Here's my technique, revealed for free.

First, I close my eyes for a moment and imagine myself rising out of my body, through the twenty-four-foot coiling of my loft and into the skies above my neighborhood, which is south of Market Street in San Francisco, near the foot of the Bay Bridge. To the east, facing commuters driving into the city, is a neon billboard announcing the week's Lotto jackpot. The prize this morning is three and half million dollars. I rise above the sign and look down upon the new construction. Auto shops and printing businesses are being replaced with two-story structures that look like the shells of racquetball courts but are really the wooden frames of one-room, $600,000 live-work condominiums. Waiting to buy the new homes are people I've worked with in the Internet industry for the past five years, every one of them more successful than me. I imagine my Internet colleagues looking up at the lottery sign and laughing with warm condescension at its puny payoff. One of them repeats a statistical factoid for my benefit. "You are less likely to win the lottery than you are to die from an infection by flesh-eating bacteria." He chuckles, winningly.

I think back on the time I had lunch with Jeff Bezos, the founder of Amazon.com, the year after he founded his company. We were sitting together at an outdoor buffet during a dull technology conference, and I smidenly considered asking him for a job. After all, I read books. Perhaps I should renounce my labors at an Internet start-up and join the quiet side of the industry. Go write reviews or something. But I was too busy with the dessert plate to give this serious thought. We finished our petits fours, shook hands, and parted. That skinny, balding guy in the open-collared white shirt with a bit of cream from an eclair leaking out of the corner of his mouth is a multibillionaire now, I remind myself. Then I think of a person I once interviewed for a job, and turned down, who went over to Netscape to write press releases six months before their initial public offering. He currently lives in Hawaii, where he is learning guitar.

Finally, I drift west, over the Mission District, and stare at a billboard that carries a giant advertisement for SportsLine.com, an online sports information network. Tiger Woods, many times larger than life, stands beside two slogans. The first says "Expect Greatness." Slightly below, there is an even more inspirational tag line: "NASDAQ: SPLN. " SPLN is SportsLine's stock symbol. It is on the billboard to remind people that while they may never play a game of golf with Tiger Woods, they can still get a piece of the action. And not merely by visiting the SportsLine site that's almost beside the point. The story of SportsLine--SPLN-lies in the opportunity to purchase one or many shares of the company's stock.

The billboard works: somebody made big money off of that tip. And that somebody wasn't me.

I feel my concentration sharpening. By the time the market opens, I might even be ready to trade.

Like other day traders, I am interested in stocks that move. I don't care if they stay up when they go up, because I'll take my profits at the first hint of a downturn (or, if I'm short-selling, at the first hint of an uptick). But the bull market is important to me all the same. The "average investors"-my victims-are natural longs. People of average and below-average intelligence won't plunge into a stock unless there is clear evidence that prices are going up. Slow, careful accumulation by cautious mutual fund managers doesn't make any stock quadruple in value over a few weeks, For that kind of action, you need Mr. Smith to come home from work with a little brain fatigue and sit down in front of the television set and hear for the millionth time that the Dow has broken through to a new high, and that the leading gainer for the day is one or another little-known Internet stock that does something earthshaking, like selling dental floss over the Web. Eventually, all the Mr. Smiths will pile in. My goal is to beat them by at least a few seconds.

But it's not just Mr. Smith I'm playing against. There are also all my fellow day traders, who are themselves trying to get on the bus ahead of Mr. Smith. I have to beat them, too. And when lots and lots of us have piled in, and the stock has shot up, and the dumb-money interest has waned, I've got to jump off quickly, before the damn bus slows down to less than fifty miles per hour and explodes. I'm not really worried about jumping off ahead of Mr. Smith. He'll leap, eventually, but not until he's lost a substantial amount of his money. It is the great virtue of Smith that he is willing to suffer losses. (Thank you, thank you, and thank you again, Smith!) But the day traders-they're a different story. They will fake me out and push me aside and, if necessary, run me over in their race to beat me off the bus. As I would them.

Day traders are very competitive. But beside our mutual desire to screw each other is another sentiment we share: regret. Regret is the day trader's most intensely felt emotion. It is the key to his or her personality. What lust is to Don Giovanni; what rage is to Rambo; slack-jawed, head-shaking disappointment is to the men and women who make their living via the sale and purchase of listed stocks. I've been around lots of traders, and I know that the only thing they like better than bragging about their profits is mourning the profits they didn't make.

It is truly maddening to miss a great bull run. It would have been so easy, you tell yourself. Or maybe you try to comfort yourself with the idea that a Wall Street tycoon is as distant and untouchable as a Hollywood star. Both fit comfortably on the cover of Vanity Fair and have homes designed to impress the editors of Architectural Digest. Millions dream of kissing the face of one and the ass of the other. Yet they are not the same. The wealthiest names of Wall Street-the Warren Buffetts and Peter Lynches and George Soroses-were not born with pretty faces or beautiful voices or even gargantuan superbrains. They simply started small and bet well, and got good seats on the best buses. And just think, you were standing right next to them on the curb! What's your excuse for not sipping wine with them in your Gulfstream IV right now? You don't have one. Regrets: that's all you have.


So fabulous are the market's hypothetical rewards that even the missed opportunities of other traders bring you down. Day traders often appropriate each other's celebrated blunders and castigate themselves for not having gotten in on somebody else's great deal. David Wetherell, the chairman of the Internet incubator fund CMGI, has said that his biggest mistake, one that took him years to overcome, was passing on an early investment in eBay. Every time eBay runs up another 30 percent, I join in his remorse, berating myself for not having put a few dollars into the company back in 1996-even though I didn't have a few dollars in 1996.

In 1994, Microsoft cofounder Paul Allen sold a 25 percent stake in AOL at a split-adjusted price of less than a buck a share, missing out on approximately ten billion dollars in profits. I cringe in embarrassment-I didn't have faith in AOL then, either. If only I'd put $10,000 in AOL in 1994, it'd have turned into a million a year ago.

On the other hand, in 1994 1 was still being tossed off AOL for sending around pirated copies of Doom. Embracing the corporation as a long-term investor was low on my five-year plan. Nonetheless, my failure pains me deeply.

A few years back, a reporter asked Bill Gates what type of Internet company he thought would be successful. Gates answered, "All of them." Anyone who'd taken him seriously would be seriously rich now. The wild flight paths of the most famous stocks play games with the imagination. The very bets that seemed the most foolish in 1998 provided the greatest gains of 1999. You could've bought $10,000 of Yahoo when every expert was laughing at its sky-high valuation, and seen your pittance turn into well over $100,000 before a year was over. The same plunge in E*Trade w

Read More Show Less

Customer Reviews

Be the first to write a review
( 0 )
Rating Distribution

5 Star

(0)

4 Star

(0)

3 Star

(0)

2 Star

(0)

1 Star

(0)

Your Rating:

Your Name: Create a Pen Name or

Barnes & Noble.com Review Rules

Our reader reviews allow you to share your comments on titles you liked, or didn't, with others. By submitting an online review, you are representing to Barnes & Noble.com that all information contained in your review is original and accurate in all respects, and that the submission of such content by you and the posting of such content by Barnes & Noble.com does not and will not violate the rights of any third party. Please follow the rules below to help ensure that your review can be posted.

Reviews by Our Customers Under the Age of 13

We highly value and respect everyone's opinion concerning the titles we offer. However, we cannot allow persons under the age of 13 to have accounts at BN.com or to post customer reviews. Please see our Terms of Use for more details.

What to exclude from your review:

Please do not write about reviews, commentary, or information posted on the product page. If you see any errors in the information on the product page, please send us an email.

Reviews should not contain any of the following:

  • - HTML tags, profanity, obscenities, vulgarities, or comments that defame anyone
  • - Time-sensitive information such as tour dates, signings, lectures, etc.
  • - Single-word reviews. Other people will read your review to discover why you liked or didn't like the title. Be descriptive.
  • - Comments focusing on the author or that may ruin the ending for others
  • - Phone numbers, addresses, URLs
  • - Pricing and availability information or alternative ordering information
  • - Advertisements or commercial solicitation

Reminder:

  • - By submitting a review, you grant to Barnes & Noble.com and its sublicensees the royalty-free, perpetual, irrevocable right and license to use the review in accordance with the Barnes & Noble.com Terms of Use.
  • - Barnes & Noble.com reserves the right not to post any review -- particularly those that do not follow the terms and conditions of these Rules. Barnes & Noble.com also reserves the right to remove any review at any time without notice.
  • - See Terms of Use for other conditions and disclaimers.
Search for Products You'd Like to Recommend

Recommend other products that relate to your review. Just search for them below and share!

Create a Pen Name

Your Pen Name is your unique identity on BN.com. It will appear on the reviews you write and other website activities. Your Pen Name cannot be edited, changed or deleted once submitted.

 
Your Pen Name can be any combination of alphanumeric characters (plus - and _), and must be at least two characters long.

Continue Anonymously

    If you find inappropriate content, please report it to Barnes & Noble
    Why is this product inappropriate?
    Comments (optional)