There's an old joke among commodity brokers that tell of a trader in pickled herrings. One day his wife opens one of a hundred kegs and finds the contents rotten. She panics and tells the husband. "Don't worry my dear, they're TRADING herrings, not EATING herrings."
Yeah, kinda lame, but it seems that, as the old song goes, everything old (tulips, Mississippi, dot.coms) is new again.
Old drug dealer's quandry: "How do we make any money if we only sell our stuff to each other?"