Here on Gilligan's Island

To men of a certain age, the only true enduring philosophical question isn’t whether life is worth living, as Camus asserted. No, Sisyphus can push his rock up the hill all he wants and watch it roll down again as the gods assigned him to do through eternity. For me it’s Ginger vs. Mary Ann.

I have oscillated through the years. Mary Ann is cute as heck, mother of your children and safely in cash, but, gosh, I long for Ginger and the glamour of riches and a bull market. She woos me still, much as I try to resist. Bless me, father, for I have sinned. I’m just a man.

Miss Market, mischievous changeling that she is, has for the time being doffed her leather bodice and spiked hair for one of come-hither Ginger’s mermaid-like cocktail gowns and auburn bangs, not the gingham “at-the-hop” skirt and pig tails favored by perky Mary Ann.

Feckless Gilligan that I am, my heart is torn. Take what pleasures Ginger has showered on me for a day and retreat to the hut with Mary Ann, or stick with Ginger whose siren song promises more nights of greater passion on the beach?

The market’s impressive rally Tuesday has me inhaling great gulps of Ginger’s perfume. But, alas, I had abandoned Ginger on Monday, getting rid of every share of Citigroup at $1.05 only to see it rocket 38% the next day. The mean old Republican senators on the talk shows Sunday spooked me into thinking nationalization and the wipe-out of shareholders was only a matter of time.

Ben Bernanke scotched that idea Tuesday, and Vikram Pandit said Citibank was “profitable” the first two months of the year (albeit with taxpayers’ capital). Hey, if it’s so profitable why couldn’t it fling a few bucks to ESPN (owned by Disney) to get the early rounds of the Big East tournament on the tube, er, flat screen? Guess its sports sponsorship for the year is tied up with the New York Metropolitans baseball club.

Well, as we all acknowledge, life is not fair and every Irishman knows the world will break your heart sooner or later. I just hope Ginger is kind for a while. Otherwise, this Gilligan will revert to Maynard G. Krebs, cringing at the word “WORK!”