weekend notes

Hope all goes well… “My father was tough but fair,” said the lovely young woman, in a tender tone, turning back and smiling. Hiking high above Santa Barbara. He marched just behind us – her proud father – one of Scandinavia’s top investors. He’d brought her along, combining adventure with business. As conversation wandered from family, to sports, life’s winding paths, innovation, inves

Hope all goes well… Osama bin Charlie, my 4yr old, wired on Wonka, dressed as a zombie ninja, sporting oversized UGG boots, tripped and screamed. Mummies moaned. Fairies floated. You see, Mara had fired a distress flare. So, dressed as a hedge fund putz, I rushed home early to help with Halloween. And sought solace in an ice-cold Sol. A buddy arrived, dressed as an overworked internet entrepreneur

Hope all goes well… “When will grandpa die daddy?” asked Charlie, my four year old, prying an oversized spoonful of cocoa puffs into his little mouth. So I told him I don’t know. “Well, when will grandma die?” he continued, munching away. Of course I don’t know that either. “How about you,” he asked, “when will you die?” I peered into my bowl, at the remaining cocoa puffs, swirling. And reluctantl

Hope all goes well… “Have you met anyone who doesn’t think stocks will rip into year-end?” asked the CIO, rhetorically, pausing to garner the courage to continue. “And yet despite that, I tend to agree,” he admitted, uncomfortably, squirming atop a prodigious pile of Pounds. You see he’s a Brit, and as such, is imbued with an extra helping of cynicism, skepticism. “This has that feel of the 3rd qu

Hope all goes well… “In a world of zero rates virtually everywhere, currency movements are random,” explained my big ’ole Greenwich Bulldog, lifting his leg, drenching that fire hydrant. “And new commodity supply keeps coming online, so those markets are going nowhere but sideways to down,” he snorted. “Bonds are now stuck in a range, odds are the bulls can pick up a few pennies, but risk ge

Hope all goes well… “Think about the guy you’ve hated more than anyone in your entire life,” said the CIO. You see, I’d asked what he thought was really going on in DC. “Now imagine you have him by the balls,” he growled, pausing, giving me a moment. “So here’s the thing, you’re not exactly sure what you want to do next,” he continued in a tone that made me grimace. “But you’re certain of one simp

Hope all goes well… “Obama’s a bad trader, simple as that,” explained the political insider, breezing through Santa Barbara. “He adds and adds to losing positions, trades without stops.” Apparently, Summers was never ever going to get the votes he needed. And no votes equals no confirmation. Then we moved on to matters of political intrigue, Yellen, exit options, timetables, the difficulty in trad

Hope all goes well… Back from the bush. With all sorts of wild animal tales. You know, they have the most wonderful collective names for beasts in Kruger Park. Of course, there’s a pride of lions; a parade of elephants. Dazzle of zebra. Parliament of wise old owls. A kettle of vultures, circling upward like steam. Crash of rhino. Leap of leopards. An obstinacy of buffalo; back away slowly ma

Hope all goes well… “So what did you think of Cape Town Mr. Peters?” asked Emraan, my driver, extra early, whisking me off to the airport. We’d spent two-days together, zipping from meeting to meeting, sneaking off to see mountains, beaches, seals, his son’s school. And naturally, I’d ferried out to Mandela’s jail cell. District 6’s desolation. But one stop remained. “It’s like Santa Barbara with