Quote from Nolan-Vinny-Sam:
AAA!!!! you are welcome to keep on using smoke signals and pigeon mail to trade, or at maximum upgrade to calling in your orders and wait for confirm till eod
arguing for the shake of argument???
I am planning a doctoral dissertation in anthropology, "The Demise of Floor Trading: A Modern Day Paradigm for Margaret Mead's Lost Polynesian Eden."
My thesis is the floor represents our traditional culture, dating from before the turn of the 19th century. It was a warm, people-intensive culture, based on personal relationships and the elaborate ritual of the "opening bell", the "crowd", the "Post" and, of course, the charismatic ruler-priest, "the specialist."
The participants in this culture had established over generations a highly organized culture with many symbiotic relationships. The culture was suprisingly stratified, with group members forced to wear costumes to identify their status or lack thereof, eg, runner, clerk, 2$ broker, etc. They enjoyed a ribald environment, with continuous nightly male bonding rituals, but incongruously worshipped a series of goddess-prophets. First there was the hydra-headed Elaine Garzarelli, followed by the reign of Abbey, queen of Sachs, and then the oddly hypnotic Maria from the make believe land of Bubblevision.
Sadly, this tribe fell increasingly behind rival tribes, who embraced new technologies. The philistines from the land of Nasdaq became an increasingly threatening presence on their very borders, until a great bear appeared and devoured many of their tribe. Then an even more threatening series of rivals appeared. One from a neighboring Island, was particularly aggressive. The Island culture was a strange one indeed. It disdained any and all personal contact. All business was done over computer networks. Their religion was just as heretical. They had no "Specialist" and gloried in his absence.
The final chapter in this struggle of civilizations has yet to be written, yet it appears inevitable that the floor will join other bypassed cultures on the scrap heap of history. Such is progress.