Monthly Archives: April 2017

Pamper-Her-Friday by Rg2® 358: ‘Lloyds of London, Twitter, and Oprah’: A Patient Investor’s Love Letter


Dear Carol,

Remember when I advised (borderline begged) you to invest in Bank of America, Wendy’s, and Ford company stock—not to mention a handful of others—a few years ago? We were not yet a couple years removed from the Great Recession and each of those company shares was trading around $5 bucks per, historic, once-in-a-blue-moon lows during a time when the markets had tanked and most everyone had lost their appetite for equity investing.

Despite my not being a certified financial/investment adviser, you took me up and waded in tepidly, understandably so. You’ve gone on to quadruple your investment in BofA. Nice run and much deserved. Your aversion to fast food, however, disallowed you to invest in Wendy’s (even though it was still paying a dividend throughout the turmoil and has now tripled since my initial suggestion). Yeah, you missed out big on that one but each investor has to live with her conscience and be able to sleep at night, right? Understandably so.

Warren Buffett says, “When others are fearful, be greedy.”

I don’t believe in greed. My needs have never necessitated avarice. But the sage knows both market and human psychology like the back of his weathered hand. The market, once spooked, will definitely fall—-but it never neglects to come right back.

The current bull market, I still call it the Obama bull run, certainly looks frothy. Between interest-rate increases and the potential for war, this current market could likely tumble any day now. Even if it does, money still has to be made, no? Which brings me to new opportunity.

My research has yielded a few under-the-radar, if not beaten-down picks that you would be wise to consider. Lloyds Banking Group plc, a London-based banking/financial services concern, like most other banks during the Great Recession, had lost its way and had to be rescued by the British government. After years of working to redeem itself, it just recently paid back all its government loans and is now once again in private sphere, where it should be. I got in at just under $3 per and it’s quietly making its way to $4 while paying a divvy all the while (ticker: LYG). This is the “BofA” moment of those years ago for this stock. I would advise you, as then, to not hesitate. Time, after all, is profit.

Ever heard of Jack Dorsey? He’s the founder of not one but TWO publicly traded companies you may’ve heard of: Square, the plug-it-into-your-smartphone payment device and processing system maker, and Twitter, the social and breaking news site that looks to be evolving into “Twitter TV” in due time. Well, Twitter went public back in 2013, touched $75 per share and has since tumbled to as low as $14 and change as recently as early this week. Dorsey had left the company and recently come back to right the ship.

Twitter (the stock) has garnered nothing but negative press during its fall from grace, while Facebook has eaten its lunch. It’s rare that a founder of a company doesn’t care about its success. People bash Dorsey for running both companies simultaneously and, thus, not devoting enough quality time to Twitter to restore investor faith. I believe in Dorsey. Just as I believed in Steve Jobs upon his return to Apple after he was ousted from the company he’d helped found with Wozniak. While everybody seemingly abandoned or shorted Twitter stock and criticizes Dorsey, I’ve done a “Buffett”: pivot from the fear. Given more time, Dorsey will right the ship. Now’s a good time, Carol, to bet on him—before the herd comes back and the stock price runs away from your current comfort level. Ticker: TWTR.

Lastly, Weight Watchers International, Inc., is a name with which you may be familiar. The weight management, lifestyle, and nutrition company years ago once sported a stock price north of $80 per. It too lost its way, whether via weak management, identity crisis or mission stray. Enter Oprah Winfrey, who snapped up several million shares at around $6 per back in late ’15 and now sits on the board. We know the scale of Oprah’s integral influence and stellar business acumen. I’ll never bet against Ms. Winfrey, whatever her endeavor, so it’s no surprise to me that the stock has reached $20+ and she has spearheaded the recent hiring of Mindy Grossman, the standout CEO of multichannel retailer HSN Inc., to helm Weight Watchers and take it to the next level. Grossman has an impressive business record and is widely respected in industry circles.

The future looks great for the company, especially with Oprah’s involvement. Ticker: WTW.

I’m no expert, Carol. And you certainly aren’t obligated to take my advice. The pamperer in me, however, just has to come out, as you well know.

And who better to be on the receiving end of this week’s Pamper-Her-Friday than someone as lovely and deserving as you?

(Are you smiling? But of course. Lol)

The Very Thought of You,




Pamper the woman . . . . -Rg2

© 2017 Pamper-Her-Friday by Rg2®


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Posted by on April 28, 2017 in Pamper-Her-Friday


Pamper-Her-Friday by Rg2® 357: ‘Vanessa, Where Did Our Spring Go?’: A Love Letter

image © Roy Greer/Rg2 RomanceWorks


“Vanessa, Where Did Our Spring Go?”


The thing about spring is its novel possibility
We can put to pasture any lingering regret,
Such as a dinner invitation gone unaccepted
Or a bookstore date still curiously unmet

The past once passed doesn’t have to be prologue
Recall the white dress you donned in the photo frame?
You wrote, “You would’ve really liked it up close…”
That remains a mind ember of a still-kindled flame

Where’d that dress go . . . is it forever closeted?
Will ever I witness it draped from your shoulders?
Where’d our spring go . . . I can only posit it
Those eyes, woman, your eyes are memory holders

What’s most associated with the coming of spring:
Native flowers so anxious to boast new petals
I will be your water if you’ll be my sunlight
Our carbon dioxide to their roots will settle

Like a woman eager to bask in a new season,
A pantyless stroll through a fresh-bloom meadow
A whiff of his spring cologne provides every reason
To break free from the chains of that emotional ghetto

Of failed lovers you’ve suffered no fault of your own
He had access to your home, though nowhere your heart,
That was last spring, admit it, you weren’t in love
A forgetful season. . .have you examined your part?

Vanessa, where are your thoughts of that romantic writer
He wrote of taking you with him to the water’s edge,
There’s a sunset that shed tears for your mutual absence
Long ago he took the Romantic Oath; his pledge:

Do Her No Harm—more than a medicine man
Woman, these are tumultuous, climactic times,
Should we lose the optimism of a coming spring
I swear, I’ll surrender the value of my nickels and dimes

For what are they if can’t buy me substantive love
I needed to know nothing of you was purchasable,
If they bought you flowers, I’ll take you to dandelions
A field of gold where both our hearts are searchable

For something lying a little deeper than most
My letters, each one, it resonated with you,
My summers, my autumns, my winters laid bare
But it was springtime you realized my ilk is few

Your fragrant hair, the fragrance of your hands
Your lips the texture of them I haven’t known,
If you’ll permit yourself the taste of my spring
Allow this letter to set a romantic tone

I ask for your hand in this arrival of spring
Reintroduce the white dress to a brand-new season,
Let me inspire your heart to a never-before bloom
Pamper-Her-Friday has given me ample reason

To love you like no other.



Romance lives. -Rg2

© 2017 Pamper-Her-Friday by Rg2®



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Posted by on April 22, 2017 in Pamper-Her-Friday


Pamper-Her-Friday by Rg2® 356: ‘You Need a Spring Getaway, Woman’: A Pamper-Her Ode


“You Need a Spring Getaway, Woman”

Might it be that time on your electronic calendar …
When your mind escapes from your present locale,
Daydreaming at your desk with paperwork piled high
Romantic spring is in the air and you’re just the gal

For sun kisses on her shoulders, white sand beneath her feet
Breeze-tickled eyelashes and wind-brushed hair,
Fruit-medley garden salads and herb-infused ‘tinis
Dragon Berry Bacardi ice cream—two spoons to share

You want to run away, you want to be swept away
Rescued like a damsel in a lovely pastel dress,
Speaking of a dress, nothing quite like it turns me on
A woman with a hint of dainty takes me, I confess

After all, it’s spring, of new bloom, of new love
I’ve got the butterflies just thinking of you,
Forgive me if I stutter as I make your heart flutter
If your skies are hazy, mine are pristinely blue

On the west coast lives this most generous host
Who understands your need is hidden from view,
An escapade with serenades to break your monotony
I want to introduce you to my creative milieu

Chariot you, I will, in my Tesla convertible
It’s due to be delivered on springtime order,
I sold a tranche of stock for some pamper-her cash
They’ve eclipsed $300 per share this quarter

Come away with me, and if you can’t stay with me
For your responsibilities there are far too demanding,
Then allow me to crush the ball and break the chain
Woman, you need the freedom of flight with safe landing …

In my environs you’re at liberty to make yourself at home
By all means, let down your hair and bare your feet,
The air is springtime fresh and I promise to enmesh
you in a storybook dalliance with chivalry replete

My place? A Mayan-influenced, humble writer’s space
Featuring a sub-terrain wine dungeon—no dragon,
Sweet convo we’ll begin there as our buzz takes hold
Where events take us next I can only imagine

We’ll let spring have its way . . . on Pamper-Her-Friday.



Awakened is her romance in spring. -Rg2

© 2017 Pamper-Her-Friday by Rg2®

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Posted by on April 14, 2017 in Pamper-Her-Friday


Pamper-Her-Friday by Rg2® 355: ‘World War III: Can I Pamper You One Last Time?’ A Love Letter

“It’s not the end of the world until the end of the world.” -Barack Obama to his daughters Malia and Sasha

My Angel,

Never one given to hyperbole or overdramatization, I won’t begin now in this most heartfelt letter. But when President Obama said, repeating what he had recently told his daughters, in his final press conference, “…it’s not the end of the world until the end of the world…,” I couldn’t help but internalize his words—not to mention the sorrow on his face.

I was quietly hoping he wasn’t being prescient, foreshadowing something ominous on the political horizon. As cool as he’s so known to be, he couldn’t possibly have given in to hyperbole either, right? I doubt it. Barack’s a sensible, God-fearing, family-loving man after all.

Unease, however, was written all over his face at that conference.

We all, if not most of us, realize we’re living in a diminished America. As soon as we conceived and then dropped the atom bombs on Nagasaki and Hiroshima, and other nations became nuclear-enabled, we were doomed. It would become only a matter of time.

Truth told, none of the mighty nations wants to perish; their peoples are as afraid of nuclear death as we Americans are. If they can avoid conflagration, they will. Except most other nations haven’t been living as good as we have for all these years. They likely feel they have less to lose.

The way I see it, Love? We have only two options: Coexist nonviolently in peace or end our existence by violent co-annihilation.

Sorta like a marriage. Marriages, relationships for that matter, rarely, very rarely, end amicably. It nearly always gets ugly at the end. I’m not sure what hurts more at the conclusion/dissolution: Realizing you really didn’t need the other for your own happiness or coming to grips and accepting the fact that we all need each other—such is the interdependence of life.

Now as it applies to you and me, I understand clearly that you don’t need me . . . for your survival, for validation of your womanhood, nor for your self-defined happiness.

And I don’t need you for largely the same reasons.

So, is that why it’s so damn good when we come together? We seem so delighted to be in the other’s midst that something as simple as breathing on one another (you in my arms of course) somehow sates our mutual thirst for romance. I guess I shouldn’t speak for you; you may feel differently. Though you never try to escape my embrace, now do you? (Lol)

This is what I suggest we do in light of the coming Third World War—God help us all: Come away with me for a spring picnic beneath my favorite sycamore tree over in Wildomar Meadow.

No, I’m not engaging in hyperbole. My romance is sensibly genuine and real.

I offer you the most lovingly peaceful coexistence you’ve ever experienced. I wanna pamper you, woman. You’ll be in my arms and we’ll be in God’s hands.

On Pamper-Her-Friday.

Will you come?

Forever your love,


Nothing can come, not even war, between us. -Rg2

© 2017 Pamper-Her-Friday by Rg2®

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Posted by on April 7, 2017 in Pamper-Her-Friday


Pamper-Her-Friday by Rg2® 354: ‘I Didn’t Stand You Up, Lynn’: A Love Letter

“I Didn’t Stand You Up, Lynn”

Dear Lynn,

Never have I stood up a woman.

Especially one as tantalizingly alluring as you. So I implore you to take my not coming as the exception as opposed to the Rg2 rule.

I’d be disingenuous to say I didn’t want to see you that unforeseen evening, that intrigue hadn’t crept into my made-up mind that night after Pamper-Her-Friday. There was no other woman in my company at the time of your communique—nor was there one on her way.

You could have called on another, I understood. Whether you did, either before or after our talk, matters hardly to me. The fact that I was in your thoughts at all is a pleasantry I don’t take for granted. Having not seen you in a number of years brought back an infinity of silent wishes I hadn’t realized I harbored still.

Time has obviously been gracious to you; it might have even stood still in your behalf, judging visual effects alone. But as life does to most of us during the living of it, you haven’t escaped being upended by love’s flightiness. My grandfather once quipped, “The farther west one goes the more transitory love is.” The sage had lived through and survived a few heartbreaks of his own—and spoke in no double terms hence.

In spite of it all, we remain optimistic. Love demands it.

That night? It was a pre-planned “Rg2 night.” Solitude, twin vodka tonics, and into-the-night writing held me on lockdown. They were a jealous lover—daring me to defy their loyalty. I couldn’t, Lynn.

You kept creeping, mental footsteps tapping, no, ballerina-ing toward the corners of my mind, to the access keypad of my anatomy.

A weaker man would have crossed his values. Weakness, however, doesn’t live in this entrepreneur—though thighs and bedroom eyes are highly persuasive.

If another man attempted to take what was mine that evening, call him and tell him he’s a lucky chap for the effort.

Luck, however, doesn’t strike twice.

Pamper-Her-Friday, and what it means, has held you spellbound since hearing my voice. It’s no easy gift. Earned and deserved are its hallmarks.

If that describes you, meet me by the shoreline.

A table awaits us.

On Pamper-Her-Friday.



Romance lives. -Rg2

© 2017 Pamper-Her-Friday by Rg2®

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Posted by on April 1, 2017 in Pamper-Her-Friday

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