weekend notes

Hope all goes well. Rode a bike to work. Yeah, doing my little part to push oil prices lower. You see, I’m short. Told anyone willing to listen, about Australia’s home price slide. And Canada’s bursting condo bubble. I’m short those too. Yeah, I’m shameless. And woulda sold all my stocks, but don’t own any. Turned out I wasn’t alone. Jetting to Seoul for a macro panel, then directly to

Quick boys. Grab your Geiger counters. Goggles too. Things are getting hot. We’re catching Blue Fin Tuna, here in Cali, more radioactive than Iraqi WMD’s. And I ain’t trumping that up. It’s true. So what’s this all about? Fallout. Yeah, America’s getting Fukushima’d. And the only surprise is that anyone’s surprised. You see, some problems got real long half-life’s. They swirl, as Earth spins. Take

Hope all goes well. London was great. Thanks for asking. Brought Mara with me. Brought the weather too. Sunny and hot. Which was quite a bit different from April – their wettest month on record. And before that, March, was London’s 3rd driest ever (1st driest? March 1929). Anyhow, everyone seemed pretty relaxed about the wild swings. Ya know, rain-on, rain-off. Makes you wonder if traders would be

Hope all goes well. How’s your weekend amigo? Cool. Mine’s good too. Usual stuff. Family. Writing. Reading. Few vodka tonics. Saturday red-eye to London. I kinda feel bad for those policy-makers across the globe. No rest for the weary. Yeah, poor fellas up all night these days. G8. May 23rd EU Summit (18th since crisis erupted). Emergency calls. You see, the crisis is transitioning. To the street.

Hope all goes well. I got the bug. Pretty bad. But hey, you do too. Wouldn’t be doing this if we didn’t. Gamble, that is. Of course, we ain’t alone. Men been weighing risk/reward, calculating probabilities and placing bets, from the day some bold gambler stuck a Wooly Mammoth (betcha $1mm he got laid that night). Anyhow, as I crawled up rocks this wk, looking left, right, up – and down – evaluatin

Hope all goes well. Brought Wolf and Keeve. Golden Retrievers. There’s no better breed. Oh, you disagree? Well, you’re wrong. Strong, gentle, kind, they’d follow you through Hell, tails waggin. Oh, you want smart too? Well, go find yourself a f’in PhD. Anyhow, we scaled Dragon’s Back. Leaping boulder to boulder. Eyed my initials, Mara’s too, carved deep into stone. From an earlier climb. Oh, don’t

Hope all goes well. Toured our 51st state. Great White North. Ya know, over 70% of Canadian exports go to the US. That dwarfs French exports to Germany (15%). Or German exports to Italy (6%). And yet, Canada still has its own currency. Loonie right? But I used my Amex, so never noticed – not sure anyone really does. They called Canada a Banana Republic in the early 90’s. Because it was. Then they

Hope all goes well. Had a tough wk. But not as bad as my buddy Matt. Who got attacked by 12 sharks. 8-10 footers. In open ocean. He left his head-cam on. So I got to watch the video. A deckhand was cleaning fish, threw scraps overboard. Bloody chum always gets animal spirits going – just ask Bernanke – and excited sharks rose from the depths. But you know, real life attacks ain’t like the mo

Hope all goes well. Snuck down to the water. Early. To watch the storm roll in. And walked along the beach. Alone. As the sea churned. Lifted by a fearsome wind. That wiped the sand clean. And striped trees of dead leaves. Branches too. A dessert storm is rare. Miraculous. Cleansing. Lightning flashed. Thunder rumbled. And as the liquidity poured down, I considered the metaphor. For a brief moment