Festivus 2025: Gather Round the Pole for Our Grievances

On this date last year, we aired our grievances with financial pundits and publications here in celebration of Festivus, the Seinfeld-popularized mock holiday. While it wasn’t world-changing—sadly, we still see folks state market returns in points or dollars, conflate percent and percentage points and mix up which inflation gauge the Fed targets, among other gripes—it was cathartic.

So welcome to Festivus 2025. This year, we have invited contributions from other MarketMinder writers—more friends coming to gripe together this holiday season. With that preamble out of the way, we again state: We have a lot of problems with financial commentary. And now you are going to read all about them!

Stop Making the Ordinary Extraordinary – Elisabeth Dellinger

Look, we all know sensationalism is unavoidable—if it bleeds, it leads, goes the old journalism saw. But can everyone please stop couching normal, boring things as big news?

Like: This autumn, in the UK’s Budget backlash, headlines seemed engaged in an arms race to sound the scariest alarm. Major publications kept trying to one-up each other, culminating in one former political adviser publishing a report warning of the Budget’s hidden £1.3 trillion debt bomb, which headlines ran with. Now, this phrasing would lead one to think the UK government’s new fiscal policy was going to add £1.3 trillion to the UK’s debt total over the five-year forecast period. But that is not what the gentleman was referring to. He noted the Budget projects adding £628 billion to UK government debt over the next five years … then added to that “yet another £675 billion to be able to replace existing debts as they fall due.”^[i]

Friends, this isn’t a bomb. It is called refinancing maturing debt, and it is something every government does. Bond matures, so you issue a new one of comparable maturity to both repay those bondholders and satisfy the market’s demand for your bonds. Contrary to frequent discussion, governments almost never “pay down” debt when it matures. They roll it over, carry it forward and so on, one reason why debt clocks near-constantly tick up. To do anything else would be to contract bond supply, which could result in a net monetary contraction, which is generally bad news bears economically. Debt replacement is a normal, boring, commonplace thing, and the UK would have to refinance these bonds regardless of who is Chancellor of the Exchequer and what is in the Budget.

That is a case of something normal being hyped as huge and bad. Sometimes normal things are hyped as huge and good, like when a certain giant US bank’s share price finally regained its high from before 2007 – 2009’s global financial crisis. This was very big news early this month, all couched with a lot of finallys. But of course this was going to be a “finally,” and not just because this bank took a bath in the late 2000s. Rather, this bank also happens to have paid dividends for many years, and dividends always get subtracted from the stock price. That always skews things downward. On a total return basis, which reflects reality, breakeven happened more than four years ago. Maybe that would have been actual news (it wasn’t), but the price return milestone isn’t worth the pixels.

Rounding out the sensationalist trifecta is headlines’ discussion of the Fed’s December announcement that it would launch a Treasury bill buying program to help manage the level of bank reserves. Oodles of articles portrayed this as a counterpart to quantitative easing (QE) bond purchases, implying it was a tacit U-turn from QE’s end and partial unwinding, a 12-day turnaround between ending QT and rebuilding the Fed’s balance sheet. Thing is, Fed T-bill purchases aren’t new. The Fed has had them on its balance sheet since modern monetary policy became a thing. People just never noticed because it was part of the “open market operations” used to manage liquidity in the banking system. Which, incidentally, is why the Fed is buying them now. It is a return to boring, normal monetary policy. People just forgot what normal looked like, we guess.  

Enough With the Alphabet Soup – Todd Bliman

Symbolism is always, in my opinion, dangerous. But it is also contagious and perhaps none more so in this realm than pundits’ and financial writers’ addiction to comparing economic trends to this-or-that letter shape. In 2025, it is hip to claim America’s economic growth is “K-shaped,” a divide in growth between haves and have-nots. In this scenario, the haves enjoy the upward sloping slide of the K and the have-nots suffer the downward sloping. (We have no idea what to do with the vertical stroke. Is that government?)

K is, of course, just the latest letter to grace economic commentary. We all know, and it is true, that economic recoveries from recession very often look like a “V” on a graph. That is perhaps where this starts. But … when people fear a double-dip downturn, they warn of a W-shape. After 2008’s deep recession, many panicked over an impending L-shaped economy. There have even been niche, U-shaped references from time to time.

But may I suggest K jumps the sharK? The image divides the economy into the “rich” enjoying booming growth while the poor slide into a deep, dark depression. Nothing in between. But this isn’t what data show. While spending growth rates may differ, most accounts suggest that spending is overall persisting. Incomes? Median wages (the point at which there are equal observations above and below) grew 4.1% in September, the latest figure.^[ii] Most quintiles are growing.^[iii] The divides aren’t as sharp as K imagery suggests. There are many diagonals, mostly rising, that fall between the two.

Moreover, all these individuals are in the same economy. If upper-income folks spend a boodle, what happens to the money? It circulates through the very same economy, perhaps ending up in lower-earners’ hands. I am familiar with wrongheaded notions the economy is a fixed pie, in which one person’s wealth detracts from others’. This is, again, wrong. But I am at least familiar with it. I have never heard anyone argue growth derived from one income segment has zero positive effects on the other. But K-shape imagery suggests just that.

So kick the K-shape habit in 2026, please. Actually, just cancel the search through your bowl of alphabet soup. We don’t need to cycle from K to S or Z. We definitely don’t need to seek punctuation! I have no clue what an ampersand economy would be, but I don’t like it. And don’t outsource this to the people who name streaming services or we will surely have the +-shaped economy. Call the whole thing off.

Stop With the R-Word Already – Elisabeth Dellinger

And while we are on the subject of habits that need kicking, can we please dispense with calling every pullback in some niche economic indicator a recession? It was bad enough in 2015, when we all had to suffer talk of a “manufacturing recession.” Another one of those came after COVID lockdowns. Now, according to some, the US is in a “jobs recession.” But not just any jobs recession, a Tech jobs recession. Or a recession for people who want to work in Tech but lack AI-related skills. We have also seen talk of retail recessions. And corporate earnings recessions. And construction recessions. And and and.^[iv]

The only thing in “recession” with all this is creativity. It is a shortage of synonyms. A thesaurus drought. It is becoming the economic version of labeling every political crisis a “-gate.”

A recession is a broad-based decline in economic activity lasting at least several months. The National Bureau of Economic Research (NBER), which declares and dates US recessions, says a recession requires “depth, diffusion and duration.”^[v] Calling a decline in one area of the economy misses this point badly. Whether it is an attempt to make the decline relatable—or get clicks by overegging some data—it mistakes something normal (a soft patch in the economy) for big news. This is why NBER says recessions need “breadth.” The “recession” must span much more than one category for it to be a “recession.”

So may we offer some alternative phrasing suggestions? You might say jobs in some industries are in a slump. You may say the UK’s construction sector is struggling. Call Silicon Valley’s layoffs a big old pain in the tuckus. Manufacturing’s woes can be a simple decline. Let an industry be in the doldrums. Let indicators stumble, wallow, slide or limp. Let them hit the rocks, the skids or a pothole. Use your words! Your verbs! And leave “recessions” out of it unless the actual definition applies.

Antisocial Quoting – Chris Wong

Direct quotations add credibility to news stories. If you read an article about disappointing US retail sales, you know what would make the piece more relatable? An interview with the manager of a local sporting goods store or a deal-hunting shopper. We can quibble with how revealing personal anecdotes are—i.e., one person’s experience isn’t necessarily telling about the broader populace or economy—but hearing how a real person is faring can support a journalist’s argument. And it makes it more fun to read, so have at it.

You know what doesn’t add credibility, in my view? Quoting a social media post. A random tweet from an unverified account complaining about crowds at the mall isn’t the same as actually talking to someone waiting in line. Sorry, but grabbing comments from @JoeBlow123 or @JaneDoe456 as evidence of what “people are saying” is just straight-up lazy journalism.^[vi] We don’t even know if ol’ @JoeBlow123 has been to a mall. Maybe it is a Russian bot. Maybe it is AI!

As a former high school journalist, I learned about the “Five Ws” (who, what, where, when and why) on day one. This meant obtaining quotes from my sources directly. Hearing from another reporter that the dean said this or the quarterback said that wasn’t sufficient—I needed to check the information myself. Even during interviews, I would read back quotes to confirm my subject’s words. Perhaps that was overkill, but getting the information right was critical to me.

So journalists dependent on social media comments to support their articles? Pick up the phone! Verify your source! Talk to someone. Put on your walking shoes and hit the sidewalk for some person-on-the-street action. Anyone can endlessly scroll the socials if they want.^[vii] Do better—actual journalism.

Reading Way Too Much Into Societal Trends – Reed Guernsey

For decades, pundits and economists have made a habit of connecting societal trends to broader economic ones. For instance, the 1920s brought the “Hemline Index,” in which the most popular skirt lengths of the time supposedly signaled widespread economic conditions (shorter skirts meant booms, and longer tough times). In the 2000s, it was the “Lipstick Effect,” which posits that consumers facing hardships will shift to small indulgences (like makeup) over larger, a sign of broader economic woe.

But in the perpetual hunt for new and trendy, 2025 brought a host of new metaphors, enough to make us say, ENOUGH! We saw some tout an “appetizer economy,” where rising sales of mozzarella sticks, jalapeño poppers, fritter dippers and cheese curds meant investors were pulling back spending, opting for a cheaper alternative to an entrée. Then there was “treatonomics,” the idea consumers were increasingly snapping up personal treats—be it Oasis concert tickets, matcha lattes or the newest Labubu plushie—to ease the pain of uncertain economic times. (Sounds like a brick in the Wonder Wall of worry to me!)

But, as with earlier iterations, you can’t really glean anything useful from these trends. They are just the latest editions of the fun-but-futile practice of shoving anything and everything into an economic indicator box. Could they point to some froth in markets? Possibly. But even this risks falling prey to fads, which have come and gone for centuries without regularly carrying broad economic effects. Pop culture just won’t tell you if things are going labuboom or labubust. And, there is a simpler explanation, too: Maybe, juuuuust maybe, things aren’t as bad economically as so many pundits presume?

“Worst X since Y!” – Sam Lerner

When I see financial news reporting stocks had the “biggest drop since X” or jobs cuts are the “worst since X,” my first thought is “oh no!” … followed quickly by, “oh… wait.” Often, scary historical comparisons just aren’t the terrible news implied. They are a hook.

I know, these comparisons aim to add context—and that can be valuable. But too often (in my view), they veer into fearmongering. Take reports the S&P 500’s early-November dip put it “on pace” for its worst November since 2008. That is understandably scary sounding, evoking financial crisis imagery.

But context is key. Yes, the S&P 500 dipped -4.3% from November 1 through 20—but that was worse than any full November since November 2008’s -7.2% drop.^[viii] It compares disparate timeframes—apples to turkey legs. S&P 500 returns for full November 2025 ended slightly positive. By these headlines’ logic, why not compare the first three days of November to the first week-and-half of others? Equally arbitrary. Besides, comparing solely Novembers to Novembers is what gets you to this financial-crisis tie to begin with. After all, there are fully 23 full month drops exceeding -4.3% since 2008.^[ix] The latest was … March 2025.

That brings me to my next point: Another flavor of “worst X since Y” reporting is headlines’ comparing against super short-term timeframes—like November headlines’ touting the Nasdaq’s “worst week since April.” So … seven months earlier? That is far too short a timeframe to add any real context. It just tells you there was a bad week in April and another not-as-bad one later. What is anyone supposed to do with that? Same question for December 12 headlines’ touting stocks’ “worst day in three weeks.”^[x]

Again, this isn’t to say historical comparisons are bad. They aren’t! We do it at MarketMinder. But when used to elicit fear? Not good. In my view, ending this panic-inducing practice would be the best thing since sliced bread.

Bring back creativity! – Elisabeth Dellinger

Lately, it seems like stocks and economies always do the same things. They rise or fall. Soar, jump, slide, drop, plummet, tank—all simple directional verbs. Straightforward. Calling an up market “frothy” is about as colorful as it gets.

Friends, it wasn’t always like this. Reading through a bunch of New York Times stock market coverage from the early 1970s, we discovered much more colorful language! High-flying stocks weren’t just rising or frothy … they were “yeasty.” A gain you can smell and see rising in your oven. A stock that had a bad day didn’t just get pummeled. It experienced a “bombing raid.” One big growth stock “sneezed.” Lagging blue chips were “pale.” And then after a rally they “finally began to bloom.”

Isn’t that more fun? Isn’t it more vivid for a stock to get strafed or carpet bombed on a really bad day? Or to flower or mushroom on a really good one? Sprout, bud and blossom? We don’t want such colorful metaphors all the time, for they would lose their punch, but an occasional bombing raid in an ocean of plummeting and sinking? We can get behind that.

With that, we bid you adieu, dear readers. We hope you have a wonderful holiday season and wish you a happy and healthy new year.