He couldn't keep away. Or that's what he would have you believe. Adam Horowitz has returned to Merrill Lynch Wealth Management as head of Europe, Middle East, Africa global client coverage, with his tail between his legs. You see, he had a private business for three years. Yes, he was an independent financial shaman. But he couldn't make it work.
Mr Horowitz tried his best to burn brightly in the desert of our dreams, but the fire of money would not touch him. There is no shame in this, although he feels ashamed. He now spends much of his time thinking of the desert. That fire.
Mr Horowitz foolishly tried to engage the ghosts of the dead financiers in conversation, but they did not like his style, so they rebuffed him. This made him sad. But can all of us be happy, especially when we are dealing with the dead financiers? O shamans, let the dead financiers approach you. They choose the ones with the mark of burning money upon their foreheads.
Mr Horowitz wanted the love of Big Herb, oh, but Big Herb would not love him. Big Herb does not love everyone, not even every financial shaman. You never know where you are with this mysterious desert god of money. You might say to yourself: 'I am in Scrutton Street.' Then you would look around only to find yourself in a world of shit. Mr Horowitz has had this experience.
Mr Horowitz yearned for the arms of Ganesh the elephant god to hold him, but that capricious elephant would not touch him. Oh, Ganesh had promised to hold Mr Horowitz, but then had heard about the fire. Not with a bargepole would he touch Mr Horowitz! And so this poor man wandered in eternal night. He still does.
Finally, Mr Horowitz looked for me in the desert, physical and astral. But I knew he had no fire. I knew the dead financiers would not speak to him. I knew Big Herb would not love him. I knew Ganesh would not touch him, not even with a bargepole. So I avoided him. I can be ruthless when I have to be.
O Mr Horowitz, you will be all right. You're back at Merrill Lynch now. Back where you belong. Michael Sullivan and David Jervais will look after you. Forget about the desert. Forget about the burning love you never had.
Mr Horowitz tried his best to burn brightly in the desert of our dreams, but the fire of money would not touch him. There is no shame in this, although he feels ashamed. He now spends much of his time thinking of the desert. That fire.
Mr Horowitz foolishly tried to engage the ghosts of the dead financiers in conversation, but they did not like his style, so they rebuffed him. This made him sad. But can all of us be happy, especially when we are dealing with the dead financiers? O shamans, let the dead financiers approach you. They choose the ones with the mark of burning money upon their foreheads.
Mr Horowitz wanted the love of Big Herb, oh, but Big Herb would not love him. Big Herb does not love everyone, not even every financial shaman. You never know where you are with this mysterious desert god of money. You might say to yourself: 'I am in Scrutton Street.' Then you would look around only to find yourself in a world of shit. Mr Horowitz has had this experience.
Mr Horowitz yearned for the arms of Ganesh the elephant god to hold him, but that capricious elephant would not touch him. Oh, Ganesh had promised to hold Mr Horowitz, but then had heard about the fire. Not with a bargepole would he touch Mr Horowitz! And so this poor man wandered in eternal night. He still does.
Finally, Mr Horowitz looked for me in the desert, physical and astral. But I knew he had no fire. I knew the dead financiers would not speak to him. I knew Big Herb would not love him. I knew Ganesh would not touch him, not even with a bargepole. So I avoided him. I can be ruthless when I have to be.
O Mr Horowitz, you will be all right. You're back at Merrill Lynch now. Back where you belong. Michael Sullivan and David Jervais will look after you. Forget about the desert. Forget about the burning love you never had.
