September is that cruelest month for the stock market.
It's the only month that has dropped on average since the Roaring Twenties. Come Monday night, when Wall Streeters shake out the sand from their wingtips—and Long Island Iced Tea from their livers—they will confront no shortage of doubt and risk. Europe isn't solved yet. Neither is that fiscal cliff thing. China's hurting—by extension, so, too, are Brazil and India. Volatility has spiked from recent five-year lows. And the Wall Street Journal is reminding us how this summer ominously resembles the one from 1987, when Madonna summed up the brewing disillusionment of a nation by pondering, "¿Quién es esa niña?"