Lord Turner: animal spirits

This is an absolute fucking outrage. I'm trying to control my temper here, dear reader, but it is not easy. Not easy at all. An outrage! Lord Turner, chairman of the Financial Services Authority, has been talking about 'revolution'. But not mystical revolution, oh no. HE WANTS TO QUELL THE ANIMAL SPIRITS OF BANKERS!!! I shit you not! Can you believe the nerve of this guy? This guy has some balls.

I have been speaking to Arthur Simmons about Lord Turner. Boy, is Arthur angry! This is what he said: 'What fucking planet is Lord Turner from? Mike, I'm asking you, what sick, screwed-up world does this man live in? Everyone knows how important animal spirits are to shamans. (Our bread and butter, Arthur.) Exactly. And we all know how important it is to have bankers who have the 'animal spirit' in them. (Fuckin' A!) What about the jaguar and its shape-shifting soul work? (Couldn't live without it.) What about the orca, helping us find our souls' songs? (I know.) What about the little fucking chipmunk, moving freely in the void? Or is that the rook? Sometimes I forget, myself. (It's the rook, Arthur.) Thanks. Yeah, the fucking rook. And does Lord Turner want to do away with all that? (That's what he's saying.) The man is insane! Mikey, the man has lost it. (We need animal spirits, Arthur.) Of course we fucking do. I recently had a few bankers at my college - from that fucking commie bank RBS, but that's another story - and these characters had lost their animal spirits. (Or, more likely, had them taken away.) Yeah, much more likely. Some communist fucking government nutjob had probably been to work on them already. But the point is: no animal spirits. And these guys, Mike, believe me, they were pathetic. Broken down, sad, sad, sad people. (Nothing left to hope for.) No, nothing at all. (And that's what Lord Turner wants, Arthur.) It's a fucking tragedy. That the banking world has come to this. (We've lived too long. Seen too much.) Yeah. I know you're joking, Mike, but that's how I feel sometimes. What can we do about it? (We have to fight them, Arthur. Maybe we should look to the hedgies.) Maybe. I don't know. I'm just … I don't know.'

Lord Turner better hope he doesn't bump into either Arthur or myself any time soon on the astral plane. Not that he would have a fucking clue what the astral plane was anyway. Bastard.

Stephen Walsh and Paul Greenwood and the demonic teddy bear from the depths of hell

This is always a problem. Knowing when to stop. When a teddy bear approaches you in the dead of night, fists full of cash, what do you do? Do you scream your head off? For you know (well, you should know) it is a demonic teddy bear, conjured up from the depths of hell. Or do you just take the money? Shouldn't you take any money that is offered? How can you stop yourself? Phantasmagoria! That's what we are dealing with here. Nothing less than evil fucking phantasmagoria! I mean, it doesn’t have to be a teddy bear, you know. The devil can take many forms. A crow. A wolf. A bat. Maybe they will all come for you. One after another. Streaming into your consciousness. But a teddy bear! A teddy bear is clever. Not many people would suspect a teddy bear, would they?

Stephen, Paul, you are in my thoughts. I will pray for you.

Beat the New Depression? Yes we can!

O my children, my brothers, my sisters, I want to speak frankly to all of you. We are all concerned about this New Depression. Do you have sleepless nights? Do you wake up from horrible nightmares, and wonder how you are going to keep your job or pay the bills? Do you hear a scratching noise at the window, roughly around three in the morning? Well, don't worry about that. It's probably some being from another world, wanting to contact you, wanting to make friends with you. It will happen in time. But our main concern is this: Can we beat the New Depression? Can we recover, and find new wealth? Yes we can!

O my children, beautiful mystical ones with fire in your hearts and your eyes, let me lead you, let me guide you. I am the man, the shaman, the wild mystic, you need in these dark times. For I shall carry you into the light on a wave of words carved out of pure spirit, pure energy - a great big ball of shining love!

I want every desert child to know this: The good times will come again! This crisis will not destroy us. I know the answers to our problems. Trust me. I'm telling you we must pull together, confront boldly the challenges we face, and take responsibility for our future and the future of the entire cosmos.

Big Herb is watching us. Ganesh the elephant god is watching us. And what do you think the ghosts of the dead financiers are doing? Obviously, they are watching us. They are concerned about us. They only want the best for us.

There have been times when I have been afraid, lonely, crying in the desert. Looking for the mystic love we all dream of. But I did not lose heart. There is a strength in me. O my children, I am sure you have that strength as well. With this strength we shall build a new foundation. A new temple! A new reality!

A long time ago I heard a voice. It spake unto me: Michael, there is a way. There is a will. You are that way. You have that will.

I have never forgotten that voice. I have never forgotten those words. Those words burn within me. Today, I am a voice for you, O my children. Listen. Pay attention. Learn something.

We will emerge from this New Depression stronger than ever. Survive? No, we shall thrive! In the City, in the desert, everywhere! Money will come to us, laughing in a gay manner. We must believe. We must have faith.

O Big Herb, bless the desert, bless the children of the desert, bless us all.

Thomson Reuters: certainty in uncertain times

A man, staring at a screen, looking for mystic love in numbers -

277 - Knowledge in the 2, an edge in the 7, and the other 7. O Big Herb, O ghosts of the dead financiers, these numbers are burning my eyes to heaven, to the highest level of the astral plane. Am I that man? Is that man me? It's so confusing, yet beautiful and comforting. I thank you.

596 - Technology in the 5, trusted information in the 9, power in the 6. O Ganesh, you big elephant, how do these numbers grab thee? How's your trunk?

2753 - Fever in this 2 (yes!), a lucky 7, a cheeky 5, blood smiling in the bowels of that 3! Keith, mate, what do you make of this shit? What do you think that man can find in such numbers? Mystic love? Ha! Someone is having a laugh. Satan is lurking.

Instinet: are they on your broker list?

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Connected to all major global trading venues with a string of love, connected to the cosmos, connected to something deep inside, it burns, angels, good angels.

Price improvement in angelic ways, smiling, they love to smile, they love to love, but their skins are millions of years old, never mind.

Philippe Lespinard: hedge fund managers are chasing the holy grail of institutional money

That's what he told some newspaper. Philippe Lespinard is a partner at Brevan Howard. I suppose he thinks he knows a thing or two. But he has got this completely wrong. Sure, institutional money is nice. We all like institutional money. But there is something else. Something more important. Something that is full of love, in the desert. Something that hedge funds managers are really chasing. They are desperate to get their hands on it. Ucits limitations, ha!

Ladies and gentleman, I give you the mystic money flower! A rare flower that is rarely seen, in the friggin' desert of your dreams. And the nightmares of communists! The flower will kill them - just one touch! But if you are a capitalist, a lovely capitalist from a lovely hedge fund, the flower will give you eternal life! This means you can make money forever and ever and ever. Hold eternity in the palm of your hand! The mystic money flower will take you on a trip to a higher consciousness. It grows in the desert! Can you believe it? O my children, you must believe, and you must find the flower. Pick the flower. Pop it in your mouth. Swallow the flower. Let it grow inside you. You will live forever! Money forever! But you communist dogs, do not touch the flower! Do not go near it. For it shall poison you.

Allen Stanford betrayed by the world's most demonic financier

Dear reader, you are probably wondering how the Feds found Allen Stanford in Virginia yesterday when it was only early on Wednesday morning that I informed you he was staying at Jack's house in the Cayman Islands. Well, work it out for yourself. All right, I'll tell you. Jack Pickles has cut Stanford loose, thrown him to the wolves; basically, betrayed him. Jack may be a sick, evil bastard, but he is not stupid. I know he read yesterday's post about my little chat with JC. He didn't want that kind of heat. I actually heard from a very good source that he ordered a couple of his henchmen to bundle Stanford into a private jet and then just throw him out the door when they reach the US. All I can say about that is, Stanford should consider himself lucky that they supplied him with a parachute. Jack doesn't extend that courtesy to everyone who crosses him.

Allen, mate, if you're reading this: Jack doesn't like publicity. You had a close shave there.

A little chat with Jesus H. Christ

What other blog offers you shit like this, eh? Forget about it. This is exclusive.

I'm not going to publish the entire conversation (a lot of it was very personal) but this is the gist of it (I'm in italics) -

Michael, I understand you've been having a spot of bother with a certain Mr Pickles. (Yeah, JC, it's a real pain in the arse.) Well, I'm here for you. You know that, don't you? (Thanks, JC.) I can't say I approve of your extreme creed of spiritual materialism - (Mystical capitalism, mate.) - whatever. But I know you're not a bad man. You've got a good heart. (I have. I keep telling people that.) Yeah. (I might even be in your shoes one day.) Really? (Why not? Everyone has to start off somewhere. You were only a carpenter's son. And David Icke, he was a friggin' goalkeeper, for crying out loud.) Right. (You know, Jack reckons he's not scared of you.) No? Well, he should be. I mean, does he really want a piece of me? I'll break him in two. (I know you will.) And that Satan. (Satan ain't nothing. Just some crazy angel with ideas above his station.) You said it. (What about Stanford? What are you going to do about him?) Nothing. Allen has made his bed. Now he's got to lie in it. I'm not going to interfere. (Probably the best policy. Let Big Herb deal with it.) Exactly. Finance, it's not my area. (By the way, how is the Holy Ghost? I haven't seen him about much lately.) Oh, he's okay, I think. (Maybe we should go out for a drink one night, the three of us.) Yeah, sure. I'll be in touch. (Good. Don't be a stranger.) Cheers, Mike.

Wow! What a cool guy! Forget about the Bible, you have to meet this character in the flesh (or a vision) to really get any idea of how cool he is. Brilliant.

Where is Allen Stanford?

Everyone wants to know where Allen Stanford is. The Feds. Journalists. Bloggers. Everyone.

I have just got off the phone to Jack Pickles (and Stanford) - he's at his home in the Cayman Islands. Do not continue reading if you are of a sensitive disposition. This is what was said (I'm in italics) -

Hello. (Hello, Jack. Michael.) He's not here. (Who's not there, Jack?) Allen. (Er - why would you say something like that?) Don't fuck me around, Michael. It's pretty obvious why you're calling me. (Jack, I know he's with you. Do you think I'm fucking stupid? Madoff. Stanford. Where is it all going to end?) Where it ends is on the astral plane, on all the levels, with me ruling the roost. Taking over the whole fucking operation. I'm gonna fix you. And that fucking Big Herb cocksucker money god. And Ganesh! (You're out of your pathetic, little mind! You ain't got the muscle.) I got Satan, man. (Satan is a pussy. I'll be speaking to Jesus H. Christ about this.) Jesus won't back you up. (You wanna bet? He'll take to the plane with any of you devilish motherfuckers. You've screwed yourself.) Just me and you. (What?) Just me and you, man. Face to face, in the desert, on the astral plane, in the City of London, I don't give a fuck, I'll take you on. Just the two of us. (When?) Soon. (Bullshit. You ain't got the balls.) Soon, Mikey. (Tell Stanford to give himself up.) I don't know where he is. (I CAN FUCKING HEAR HIM SNIGGERING IN THE BACKGROUND!!! PUT HIM ON THE FUCKING LINE!!!)

Stanford comes on -

Hello. (Allen, mate, what the fuck is wrong with you? What are you doing getting mixed up with Jack Pickles?) What can I say, Mike? It's the money. (How much money do you need?) And it's the power. Jack has promised to show me all the delights of hell. (Oh, Allen. You've gone insane. You've really gone insane. I could cry.) Don't cry for me. I know what I'm doing. I'm connected. Jack. Satan. No one's gonna mess with me now. The Feds will never find me. (I found you, you fool!) You're the world's foremost financial shaman, not some deadbeat cop. And I respect you, Mike. Honestly I do. But let me go my own way. (You're making a big mistake.) Well, then, let me make my own mistakes. It's my life.

Yeah, dear reader, it's his life. But hell is forever.

Terry Freeman or Terry Sparks or Jack Pickles?

Oh, I don't know. What's in a name, anyway? And what is identity? Who am I? Am I Michael Fowke, or Terry Sparks, or Jack Pickles, or Smokin' Joe Frazier?

And who are you, dear reader? Are you who you say you are? Are you who you think you are? And who is Keith Busby?

Rimbaud once said: I is an other. (His italics). I think I'm starting to know what he meant. He also said that you must make the soul into a monster.

O Rimbaud, my soul IS a monster! Yes, it is! I have called for plagues, to suffocate in sand and blood, just like you asked me to. Is the money mine yet? And did you find the money; the money you abandoned poetry for? Running guns in Africa! O Rimbaud, you fool! Why did you turn your back on your pages of gold?

Wherever you are now, heaven or hell, I hope you approve of this blog. After all, one must be absolutely modern.

Breaking news: Ewan Kirk does have an ego

Ewan Kirk at Cantab Capital Partners does have an ego. That's official. Mr Kirk emailed me this morning to set the record straight.

Well, thank God for that. What a relief! This is what Keith Busby had to say when he heard the news: 'Man, we'll all be able to sleep soundly in our beds tonight, knowing that Ewan has an ego. When I read your story yesterday I thought to myself that it may be the beginning of the end. That this great civilization of ours really was crumbling. I take my hat off to Mr Kirk. We need fund managers and their egos at a terrible time like this.'

Fuckin' A! Keith. Fuckin' A!

Cantab Capital Partners: no ego

There is no ego at Cantab Capital Partners. Ewan Kirk has no ego. He says he is terrified of becoming a god of finance.

Dear oh dear. Has it come to this? Where would Big Herb be today if he had been terrified of becoming a god of finance? Well, he wouldn't be the money god we all know and love, that's for sure. He would be a schnook.

I have been speaking to David Pitt - chief priest in the cult of Big Herb - and he told me, 'Mikey, my friend, it's a sign of the times. Bankers and fund managers are losing their egos left, right and centre. They have no confidence in themselves. And they have lost faith in money. It's all very distressing. Where is the love that burns forever? Where is the fire that drives them on? By the way, when are you getting married? (Oh, not yet, Dave.) Every thug needs a lady, you know. I'd go with Stacy-Marie if I were you.'

Yeah, thanks, Dave, but I'm married to the job.

The JPMCCI Energy Light Total Return Index

Wow! Check this - The JPMCCI Energy Light Total Return Index is the most recent addition to the J. P. Morgan Commodity Curve Index family. Wow! I'm blown away by this. Can it be true?

I've just pinched myself. Yeah, it's true. But why is this so exciting? Let me explain: There is light and energy in all of us. Inside us, man. And if we give a little light, a little energy, a little love to the cosmos, all that shit will be returned to us with added power. J. P. Morgan is on to something here. We're talking about representative exposure to the commodity market. We're talking about the entire futures curve. Sure we are. But that's not all. Don't you see what this means? Don't say you've closed your heart and your mind to it! Don't tell me that, dear reader. This means we can fly high now in the friendly sky, without a care in the world. You've got to give a little love, take a little love, be prepared to forsake a little love, and when the sun comes shining through … you get the idea.

A spiritual war

The battle for the soul is as brutal as the battles of men; but the sight of justice is the pleasure of God alone - Arthur Rimbaud

Dried blood used to smoke on Rimbaud's face, and now it smokes on mine. Pay attention to me: there is a spiritual war on. Filthy, degenerate communists are trying to humiliate us. Why should any banker apologize to any politician? How can a man be a man, after doing such a thing?

These are evil times. Too many false prophets. Too many experts. Too many commentators. And too many cowards! Too many weaklings seeking shelter from the storm of the New Depression. But I am a storm of a different kind. A storm of blood and fire. O my children, my brothers, my sisters, I am the storm from the desert that will shake the cities of the corrupt!

Believe in me. Believe in my pain. And believe in Big Herb. He died for your money.

There are voices crying in the wind. Be strong. Ignore them.

How many of us can truly say that we possess everything we desire? Have you enough cash? Have you enough gold? In your heart, is there an aching? O my children, yearn, yearn for more! And take everything!

When we go, shuffling off this mortal coil, we shall bring them down, the ignoble ones. We built this world for them. But have they any gratitude? No. And what would they have built? A world of shit, with everyone holding hands, in despair. They call it love. They call it humanity. But it seems like the worst kind of hell to us. And it is. A terrible hell they call the perfect society.

Are we all equal? Who could be equal to one such as I? Instead of this warped philosophy, we will follow our own values. Everyone will be as great and as wonderful as they possibly can be under the sun, and under the moon. No limits! Stretch your mind! Stretch your soul!

A long time ago I had only one blanket to keep me warm, but was I jealous of my neighbour who had two blankets? No. I do not experience such emotions. That is a strength. The communists do not possess such strength. They live in fear. And they want to kill the joy in our eyes. They want our souls to be as colourless as their souls are. This is truly a spiritual war.

Burning, burning, burning …

Does it all burn, everything? Yes. Yes. Yes. You know it all burns.

There will be light. Beyond the cities. Watch out for it.

Sing a song of death

Sing a song of death, to those who do not believe. Show them the pain. Show them the teeth of that sabre-tooth dream (I'll be clean, you know, pollution machine, oh yeah) that will not hurt us, but will hurt them.

O Master, we are right behind you!

Thank you, my children. O my beautiful ones, the time is nearly upon us. Soon I will call you. You will do your duty.

O Master, command us!

Not yet! Be patient.

HSBC Private Bank: they connect your wealth to the world

O HSBC Private Bank, it is about time! People have been waiting for you to connect their wealth to the world. What took you so long?

These crazy cats have been caring for their clients through good times and bad for many years, and now a great burning is coming.

O HSBC Private Bank, all the mystical children are waiting for you in the desert. Connect them! Yes, connect them. Open the right doors for them, and cleanse these doors. If the doors of perception were cleansed everything would appear to man as it is, infinite!

It was but a shadow …

It was but a shadow, something sinister, in a dream. Holding all the money. I could not reach the money!

I wanted that money.

I could have glided on an astral wave, just like a mystical Beach Boy. I could have thrown all caution to the wind. I could have drowned in the desert sand. Shimmering. Bleeding. Burning.

I see too much. I feel too much. I know too much.

The pain is beyond belief. But I believe it all the same.

BNY Mellon Asset Management: two new boutiques!

Yippee! After all the trouble it has had recently, BNY Mellon Asset Management has managed to launch two new investment boutiques - Ankura Capital (based in Sydney), and Blackfriars Asset Management (London).

But what was all this trouble the firm had? Let Keith Busby explain: 'Well, actually, it was more to do with BNY Mellon’s vice chairman, Jon Little. Jon came to me in a terrible state, practically in tears, moaning about the colour of his aura. Now, it was a lovely yellow colour, and I didn't see anything wrong with it myself. It meant he was a playful, easy-going soul. But that wasn't good enough for Jon, oh no. He said he wanted a deep red colour to make him feel more powerful. So I changed it for him. But, unfortunately, I made a mistake, and his aura came out bright emerald green instead - which is my colour, the colour of a healer. Well, he hit the fucking roof. He really did. Called me all the names under the sun. It was very upsetting.'

Well, whatever colour Jon's aura is, I'm sure he's very happy with recent developments at BNY Mellon. There's more to life than having a red aura, you know.

When a crunch comes

When a crunch comes, how does it take thee, O my children?

O Master, it hurts us.

I've seen the pain in your eyes, eyes almost dead, bleeding, souls hurting. Where is the relief? What can ease your pain? Your credit has been crunched, my children. But Big Herb still loves you.

O Master, he loves us!

Yes. Yes. Yes. Let's dance in the desert, moon or no moon. Let's die in the desert. A dreamy death forever in the desert. The champagne spills into the sand. Someone has spat in our caviar. I hear laughter. I see tears, and blood, and sweat. Not our laughter. But our tears, our blood, our sweat. The end of time. Is this the end, or only the beginning? The space inside - how big is it? Here's something for you: Fuck the unbelievers!

O Master, yes!

We will destroy them! There is a way out of this New Depression. I've seen the way in a vision. We shall never give up on money!

O Master, never!

We won't cry. We will build our temples out there! Vikram Pandit and the temple of his love? Ha! That is just the beginning. We will take Bob Diamond with us. We need Bob, and Bob needs us.

O Master, we need Bob, and Bob needs us!

Say it again!

O Master, we need Bob, and Bob needs us!

We all love Bob. O beautiful Bob, come burn with us! Dream with us. Swim with us through the astral sky. Come on, Bob! All the mystical children, come on!

O Master, we love Bob! He will burn with us!

Come on!

O Master, everything will burn. We will burn the shit out of the cosmos in our pursuit of money. Bleeding burning fires of cash making us well again, making us happy, making us believe in the times to come!

Making us proud to be capitalists!

O Master, yes! Making us proud!

There will be a burning!

O Master, there is a burning!

Yes. Yes. Yes. See how it burns! My soul in flames. Fuck death! This is too beautiful!

O Master, you are too beautiful!

JESUS H. CHRIST, EVERYTHING IS BEAUTIFUL!!!

Jon Asgeir Johannesson and the British vultures

No, it's not some fucked-up avant-garde rock group. Jon Asgeir Johannesson is the chairman of the Icelandic investment group Baugur. And he has got a bee in his bonnet about British vultures.

This is what he told me: 'Michael, my friend, this is a serious problem. I know you're a good man. You're not a disgusting vulture. Alas, the same can't be said of many of your countrymen. You remember Dexter Boomer? I knew him well. He was attacked by a money vampire in a London pub. He committed suicide last month. He couldn't live with the shame. What has all this got to do with vultures, you're probably wondering. Well, let me tell you. Money vultures are the next big thing, the next big threat. And they are mostly British. And they lurk in the side streets of the City of London. And they are invisible! Yes, my friend, invisible! That's what makes them so dangerous. They are astral vultures. Did they escape from the astral desert? How would I know? But they steal money, Mike. They have no morals. Invisible! At least with money vampires you know where you are. You can see them coming. I'm very fearful, Michael. What has happened to your country?'

Er, I'm not too sure about this. But I will look into it.

Warren Buffett: like a true nature's child, he was born to be wild

Warren Buffett has just bought himself a Harley-Davidson. He is now heading for the desert.

This is what he told me before he left: 'Mikey, at my time of life, you have to take every opportunity that presents itself. That's why I'm going into the desert with my brand new motorcycle. I hope to find the ghosts of Billy and Captain America. I'm gonna make it happen, take the world in a love embrace, fire all my guns at once, and explode into space.'

Fuckin' A! Warren! Fuckin' A! You're the man!

Vanguard Investments UK

Yeah. Vanguard Group is launching in the UK. Vanguard is well known in the US for its low-cost funds, so there will probably be a price war now with UK asset managers. The managing director of Vanguard Investments UK, Tom Rampulla, has told some newspaper they will be very aggressive.

Aggressive. I'm not sure that's the right way to go in the present climate. I was only speaking to one of the ghosts of the dead financiers last night, a lovely chap by the name of Greg, and he reckons everyone in banking and finance needs to quieten down a bit, and slow down a bit. Basically, reach some sort of cosmic stillness. In such a state, everything will be revealed. At least, that's what Greg says. And Greg's been dead a long time. He knows a few things.