weekend notes

Hope all goes well… “I went big, hard, I went early,” grunted Bulldog, licking dollar-drool off his chops. “After Jackson Hole, you knew Draghi was finally doing QE,” continued one of our industry’s largest risk-takers. “Now there’s serious divergence between the ECB and Fed – that’s what moves real money.” German 2yrs yield negative 0.07%; an oxymoron. US 2yrs yield 0.57%. That spread’s at a 7yr

Hope all goes well… “So why have you come to our little country?” asked the policy maker. And having long ago come to terms with my stupidity, I responded simply. “The biggest answers are often found in the smallest places.” He nodded. “New Zealand is the first G10 nation to hike rates in this cycle,” I continued, “and I wonder whether any developed economy is able to withstand higher rates.” He s

Hope all goes well… “You want to be mentally concerned now, awake, alert,” said the CIO. “But you don’t want to express that concern yet in your portfolio,” he continued, his own portfolio performance well ahead of any index you could compare it to, for years running. “These things are supposed to go way past Red,” he continued. Before real bull markets finally turn, they first ignore all the obvi

Hope all goes well… Powerful waves rolled in, lifted by a distant beast. Hurricane Marie, one of those rare Pacific tempests. The day prior had been smooth as glass. Whitewash raced up the beach, exploding on my shins. Stranding vast heaps of kelp and stunned creatures, that, accustomed to summer’s perpetual calm, lacked strong anchors. I looked out as far as I could. Turning a grain of sand over

Hope all goes well… “I call grande puffy chair!” shrieked Olivia, in a faux French accent, staking her claim. You see, she’s still small enough to curl up like a cat. Her brothers piled in behind. Scanning the hotel room for sleeping space. And with one petite queen reserved for Mara and me, our boys assessed the remaining options, none of which looked good. “I call 2nd bed,” grumbled Jackson. Kno

Hope all goes well… “You can sense it, you’re wrong, you look around, realize you’re not alone – and you can’t wait a second, you just run for your life,” snarled Bulldog, out of breath. Guys who sold vol and bought carry, picked up a few pennies this yr. Breakout traders chased their tails. “Got myself back to flat five times this year,” panted one of the industry’s greatest traders. “Then sink m

Hope all goes well… “Market was looking for an excuse to show some cracks,” said Roadrunner, having somehow sensed this would happen, without knowing why. WHO declared Ebola an international health emergency, Chinese imports shrank 1.6%, Russian troops amassed on Ukraine’s border as Putin banned US & EU food imports, Israel and Hamas resumed fighting. And of course, Obama rejoined Islam’s civi

Hope all goes well… “Did anyone?” asked the CIO, a little too loud, calling late on Saturday. And having known him for many years, through good and bad, up and down, two things were instantly clear; he was asking about money, and had been drinking. So I answered, “No, not really anyone.” He erupted, laughing, a sarcastic, angry laugh, “Not really anyone? Try no one!” And of course he was right. He

Hope all goes well… “It’s like hearing a great Vegas story,” said the CIO, describing the geopolitical trading triumphs that swirl every time some rouge regime rolls the dice. “Your buddy tells his heroic tale and it just drives you crazy.” You want to claim one all your own. “The $100k win at craps, off to the club, the Cristal, the chaos.” There’s just one problem. “It’s not credible, it really