In the present downturn in the markets, I predict that one class of trader will survive and prosper: the geriatric set. Why? For three reasons. First, they have been trading so long that to stop trading is to invite death. They live to trade, not trade to live. Second, they have more money left than other traders just because they've been alive longer. Third, young punk traders have already broken their piggy banks to "buy at the bottom", and are now out of the picture competitively. So it is my great pleasure to share with my fellow gerries a new system I call Senior Concentration Trading. Catchy, yes? The chief benefit of this new system is that it matches the ability of seniors to attend to the market, what with frequent need to piss through swollen prostates, to take their Senokot, or to change Depends. Ten minutes is the ideal bar period to match bathroom breaks. It has the further advantage that there are only 39 bars in the normal futures trading day. So with shoes and socks off and a full length mirror, even the most senescent among us can count to thirty-nine, allowing for the odd toe or finger missing from gangrenous gout. And there is no need to guess at tricky trend lines or interpret fickle volume Gaussians (or Poissons or Rayleighs, for that matter). Just watch the scary horizontal lines. Price is afraid of them. If you see price shy away in terror from one of those lines, you simply trade in the direction of the anxiety relief (the market gets the runny shits just like you do from the least little start), until price gets scaredy again. What could be simpler? So join me in a Metamucil cocktail, shove that dreamy laxative up your ass that you smuggled past customs on your return from Paris, and trade SCT with me!