players

“I emptied my mind,” she explained, looking through me, returning to that mental place, in the moment before her race began. I bit my lip, to keep from smiling, even laughing. You see, she’s just 8yrs old, and tiny for her age, seriously, like the 1th percentile. Yet Olivia’s coach has her swim against 11yr olds. I don’t protest. Not my style. Plus, I’m pretty certain her coach qui

Hope all goes well. Dallas was hot. Conference was cool. Yeah, UBS puts on a good show. You know, figured I’d find a steer or two in Texas. You see, those boys been making serious frackin’ money. And if there’s one breed unafraid to take risk, leverage up gains, put it all on the line, well, it’s the Texan wildcat. But alas, their pastures are barren. Parched. And my take is it’ll take one helluva big bear, or the ar

Watch those borders boys, here come the refugees. Yeah, Syria’s civilians are on the move. They got no money. Just sorrow. And the odd trunk full of chemical weapons. Of course, they’re not alone. Displaced Palestinians, simmering for decades in refugee camp squalor, joined the rebellion. And if that ain’t chaotic enough, Iran stung 5 Israeli children on a Bulgarian bus. You see, we kicked the Persi

Hope all goes well. And that your Summer ain’t too relaxing. Mine certainly isn’t. You see, I’ve long since ceded control to two women. Who own me. Ida packed my week with curious adults, who flew in, from all over the world. Mara packed my weekend with curious kids, 8 in all, sleeping over, who insist no game is possible unless I’m playing. And of course, mkts remain relentless. So I worked late into the

“120,000 terawatts,” he answered, definitively, without hesitation. Yeah, I love dude’s like that. Scientists. Mathematicians. And this one was my brother Craig. Silicon Valley entrepreneur, inventing revolutionary materials, transforming sunlight into electricity, grey matter into green matter. I’d called with the kind of odd question I consider when seeking distraction, inspiration, a break

She’d long since tumbled. Down the rabbit hole. Nibbled a mushroom. Indeed, her adventure had just begun. And Alice stared at her reflection. In a mirror. Wondering, “What will happen if I step through?” “Impossible,” you say? Well, everything’s possible today. Anyhow, through the looking-glass, she discovered Jabberwocky, a masterpiece of nonsensical poetry, that when read backwar

Hope all goes well. Osama bin Charlie infiltrated our bed. Pre-dawn raid. Crept between us, dragging his blanket. Growling, “I’m gonna be a tiger when I grow up, a big fat tiger.” Which is cool with me, though Mara prefers the doctor route. So I asked our cub how we’ll know when he’s finally grown up, we can hardly wait. “When I can swim,” whispered the 3yr old terrorist. And

They’d had it. The corruption, hypocrisy, intimidation, oppression. So 56 prominent, brave men, with everything to lose, signed our Declaration. Naturally, ever since, Americans have had a soft spot for revolutions. Started quite a few. We know civil war too. Ain’t afraid to pick sides. Of course both are ugly, tragic. But inevitable, natural. Man’s nature. And they’re bubbling up everywhere.

“I’ve been up large, twice this year,” admitted one of Europe’s biggest portfolio managers. “But I’m back to flat now, cut my risk to nearly nothing, probably done for Summer.” Which didn’t surprise me. In our two decades of obsessing together, we’ve shared a similar education, evolution. Learning that with few exceptions, the fittest survive by trading with trend