In all the galaxy, could there exist a nastier little critter than the S&P futures? Yesterday, watching the [March] contract leave its hellishly agitated footprints all over my intraday charts, I was reminded of the creature in the movie Alien. In its “cute,” post-larval stage, the then knee-high monster resembled a small dragon, with tiny buzz saws and metallic razors in place of reptilian scales, and venomous syringes instead of teeth.  Those who saw the movie will not forget the way the creature skittered around the space station floor, finally disappearing for a few excruciating minutes before exploding, with a wicked, other-worldly cackle, from the chest of a hitherto unsuspecting male crewman.

And so it was yesterday with the [E-Mini S&Ps], as they feinted and darted, bounded and careened, emerging with a bloody victory over all but the very hardiest of day traders. Talk about vicious! The S&Ps would make house pets of monsters such as the one in Alien. Thus, on Thursday, amidst brutal tedium and, until the final hour, trendlessness that was unusual even for this so-far excruciating post-holiday period, did the [March] S&Ps parry an intrepid army of traders, never sustaining a rally or decline for long enough to allow them to draw an untroubled breath. The invincible tormentor of these determined warriors is a Freudian nightmare come alive, an all-knowing predator whose every movement, at any instant of the day, is willed by a thousand ids and egos, each struggling to come out on top.  But even when the S&Ps are momentarily at rest they throb with menace, fueled by the unspent fear and greed that has lured traders into the bloody arena.