Welcome to the first of a regular (or at least occasional) look at American life through the eyes of Sally’s dad. As regular readers of the Diario will know, I live in Las Vegas, Nevada with Fran, my delightful Asian girlfriend, and her two sub-teenage boys. Thanks to the boys, I’m learning more than I really wanted to know about the American school system and counting my blessings that my kids grew up in England.

Actually, Falwell really put his foot in it, seriously embarrassing arch-conservative Pat Robertson in the process. Robertson stood there nodding and agreeing, and afterwards could only claim lamely that he "didn’t understand" what Falwell was talking about. Thinking people realized a long time ago that if Robertson and his crowd ever took control of the US Government, they could really show the Ayatollahs how it’s done. But it took asinine remarks like this, at a time like this, for ordinary people to notice that our fundamentalists are just as bigoted as theirs – I read an outrageous comment somewhere that the only difference was Falwell’s followers weren’t smart enough to learn to fly. I marvel at the wisdom of British policy makers for keeping religion and politics off television. Long may it remain so.

Las Vegas is quiet this week. Hotel occupancy is down 30%, room rates down 55% and all the shows are half price. Most of the casinos have laid people off or put them on short time. I’m sure things will pick up later, but right now is a good time to visit. Travel was impossible last week, with tens of thousands of people trapped here and desperate to get home – at one time, the queue stretched twice around the Greyhound bus station. This week things are a little easier, though the new airport security regulations are burdensome. It used to be if you turned up for an 11 o’clock flight at 10.45 you considered that a bit too early, but not any more. One of the new FAA regulations prevents any car parking within a thousand feet of the terminal, which is a bit of a problem when the short-term car park is the terminal roof.

Another problem is you can’t go to the gate without a ticket (I always book on the internet and travel ticketless). I’m not sure how this is supposed to make travel safer, since I’m sure last week’s hijackers had tickets. There’s a new opinion of what constitutes a weapon, with security personnel confiscating dangerous sewing needles and deadly nail clippers. Rumour has it that the next bunch of terrorists will strangle a stewardess with a necktie, thus changing American business attire forever. Basically, if you want to make your flight, turn up two hours in advance, buy a ticket at the desk, have no metal on your person and no carry-on at all. This last is a big nuisance because on a lot of short-haul flights, which is mostly what I make, I can spend more time waiting for my bags at LV’s notoriously slow baggage claim than the plane actually spent in the air.

As I watch the stock market this week, I get a feeling like they must have had on the Titanic in that quiet period after she struck, when nothing much seemed to be happening. We’re about to find out just how "unsinkable" the stock market really is. I heard today one investment house was hit with a TWO BILLION DOLLAR margin call, as a result of which they had to dump 175 million Disney shares - lucky for them, Disney had the cash reserves to buy their own shares and prevent a slide. Now why in heck was anyone allowed to run a margin like that? Let me explain the implications of a "margin call".

Suppose I own a bunch of shares, worth (say) $10 million. Actually I borrowed $5 million to buy them in the first place, and everyone thinks I’m a very smart investor for making so much money on the deal. But $5 million doesn’t go far these days. I decide to buy some more shares, say another $5 million worth, but I haven’t got any money left. No problem! Because I’m a very smart investor, my broker will lend me the money, secured on my first $10 million. The problem comes when the market slides, and now my holdings are only worth $9 million, but I still owe my broker ten. Uh-oh, says my broker, we need you to put up $1 million in cash to cover the difference – that’s a margin call.

Where am I going to get the cash? Ah, I’ll sell some shares! But if I sell too quickly, then the value of my remaining shares drops to less than what I owe now. My broker wants more money to cover it. If I sell more shares, the price drops further and I still can’t cover the margin. If I try to sit tight and wait for things to recover, my broker sells them for me to cover his own ass. If this process isn’t stopped, in the end I lose everything I own and I still can’t cover the debt. Maybe my broker goes bankrupt. I don’t care because I already jumped out of a tall building.

All for now,