Thursday, 28 January 2010

If

If I call myself a financial shaman, it doesn't mean I am one.

If I am writing about banks and hedge funds, it doesn't mean I am writing about banks and hedge funds.

If I use the two words 'Bob Diamond', it doesn't mean I am referring to Bob Diamond.

If you are confused, my writing has no connection to anything you know about.

If you know all about it, your lack of confusion will damage you, make you become more confused than someone who has always been confused.

If you love this, it doesn't mean you understand it.

If you hate this, it doesn't mean you understand it.

If you have a firm idea of what I am trying to achieve, you are wrong.

If you have no idea of what I am trying to achieve, it doesn't mean I am not trying to achieve anything.

If it all seems like nonsense, you are a damn fool.

If you are expecting it to make sense, you have missed the point.

If my mysticism seems fake, think again.

If my mysticism seems genuine, think again.

If you're thinking again, you haven't understood a thing.

Wednesday, 27 January 2010

Raphael Kassin had a similar soul

Raphael Kassin had a similar soul to the one he has now. The soul he has now he has taken to Reyl Asset Management. His similar soul he left at Credit Suisse Asset Management.

O Master, how can he have two souls?

He doesn't have two souls. He left the similar soul behind at Credit Suisse Asset Management. Someone else has picked that up. His new soul, which is similar to the one he left behind, he uses at Reyl Asset Management.

O Master, it is a wonder these people have souls at all!

O my child, don't be so insulting. These people are not soulless. But sometimes they wear their souls out. They have travelled a long way. They are old. They quite often need to be refreshed. They change. They become new souls.

They become new souls?! They are their souls then? But what of Mr Kassin's old soul? What use is it?

I am sure there is some mystic juice left in it. Whoever owns it now will definitely be able to burn with it.

O Master, it is not possible to change your soul. Are you playing with me?

Yes, my child. You are correct. It is not possible to change your soul. But why did you believe me?

O Master, you always sound so convincing!

My child, I hope you have learnt your lesson.

O Master, I have. But one more thing: how can you have a soul if you are a soul?

A person is more than a soul. A person also has a body. But they really are their souls.

Who are?

They are. Like me, or you.

O Master, you are forgetting, I don't have a body. I am just a voice.

Yes, you are just a voice.

I am just a voice.

You are just a voice.

I am just a voice.

You are just a voice.

I am just a voice.

I hear you. You are just a voice.

I am just a voice.

Yes.

I am just a voice.

I am just a voice.

I am just a voice.

SHUT THE FUCK UP!

Monday, 25 January 2010

Secrets of an alienated personality

None of the things you imagine matter, matter.

You are asleep. Wake up and feel the pain. Terror is just waiting for you. But you have to be awake.

There is no security.

There are other worlds. Harder to escape from than this one.

Any status or position you may have is an illusion. It does not matter how hard you have worked. Inside, you are nothing.

Your body is ridiculous.

Your consciousness is a joke. You have no control. You have no idea who you are.

You could consider yourself a right-wing, left-wing, fascist, liberal, communist atheist who believes in God. But you would be fooling yourself. You are nothing.

No one cares how much you love or despise money. No one cares if you are good or bad.

Your heart is in the wrong place. If you have a heart, that is.

Your ego is out of control. Of course, you do not believe this.

You are only impressing yourself.

You are of the opinion that none of the above applies to you and your life. And that is because you are a well-adjusted individual with all the self-awareness and cosmos-awareness of a block of wood.

Friday, 22 January 2010

Is President Obama out of his freakin' mind?

Lloyd Blankfein certainly believes so. He phoned me late last night -

Mikey, this is terrible. The banks have to be split up? Can't trade on our own accounts? No hedge funds? Terrible, terrible, terrible. (Yes, Lloyd, it is terrible.) I feel physically sick, and extremely angry! Is this how Sam Giancana felt when the Kennedys tried to close him down? It's bad, Mike. And bad things need to happen now. We have got to do something. (We?) Mikey, how much fucking money have I put in your pocket over the last year or so? Yes, fucking 'we'. You're in this up to your neck! I don't wanna hear any shit about it. (Lloyd, I ain't gonna whack the president. You're as crazy as he is!) I ain't talking about whacking anybody. Jesus! Gotta be more subtle than that. I'm thinking maybe a spell, a curse, you know? Can't you sprinkle some of your hocus-pocus shit on the son of a bitch? (I don't know. This sounds very heavy.) If it's a question of more money ... (It ain't a question of more money, Lloyd. It's morals. I ain't Jack Pickles. You understand me? He's the man you want.) I heard you were Jack Pickles. (Who told you that?) I hear things. (Who the fuck told you that?!) I hear things, Mike. (You hear things? Well, hear this, motherfucker, I ain't putting no curse on the president!)

That was more or less the end of the conversation. I love all the Goldman boys and girls, but I am not sure how much longer I can put up with Lloyd and all his outrageous demands. It's not worth it.

Wednesday, 20 January 2010

The internet is like drugs

Since I lost my connection, I ain't felt the same. I fell asleep on my bed, woke up shaking, literally shaking! Was it the cold? Oh, you won't believe! I had not been on the net for over six hours! The day before, only one hour of surfing! Let's kill surf city before it kills us. No! Things are getting worse. I need a fix! So I've taken my laptop to the repair shop. Now I'm waiting for the man, £35 in my hand. I feel sick and dirty, more dead than alive! I'm waiting for my man!

Never ever felt this bad. This shit, this net, it's my life! It's like the astral plane and the net are all I got. I surf on both. They mingle in my head, like a fucking speedball! Feel the astral sand! Touch the astral sky! Sniff the keyboard! Sniff the screen! Do you know what I mean?

Hey, man, can you get me connected? I'll do anything for you. You name it. But can you get me connected? Don't wanna go internet cafe no more. You hear me? Don't wanna go no internet cafe no more. They're strange in there! So just get me online. Get me online! GET ME ONLINE!

Monday, 18 January 2010

Philippe Jabre: you can't keep a good man down

Oh, it is so nice to see Mr Jabre doing what he does best again. I don't know if you remember, dear reader, but Philippe Jabre was fined £750,000 back in 2006 for trading on confidential information. That was when he worked at GLG Partners. It was just a terrible misunderstanding, I'm sure. But Philippe has his own hedge fund now, the Geneva-based Jabre Capital Partners, and he seems to be on top of the world. He is going to manage a new convertible bonds fund for Pictet Funds.

Well, I have been speaking to Phil about his journey through life, and this is what he told me: 'Mike, I've learnt a lot. (You made mistakes, Phil.) I know, Mike, I know. The biggest mistake I ever made was not taking Big Herb into my heart when I first entered this crazy business. (Phil, mate, don't beat yourself up about it. Big Herb died in 2007. He hasn't even been a money god three years yet. When you started in this fucking business, there was only Ganesh. And the ghosts of the dead financiers didn't get organized until Big Herb made his permanent move to the astral plane.) Oh, I didn't realize that. I mean, you hear talk of Big Herb. Everyone loves him. You just presume he has always been a god. (No, he was a financier in the City.) Amazing. So what did you do in the early days, then? (I was a shaman in the desert, you know, learning the ropes. We all have to learn, Phil.) Well, I've learnt, Mike. I really have. (Yeah?) Oh yeah, man. I was fined nearly a million quid. That changes a man. Such suffering, oh, if it doesn't kill you - (It only makes you stronger.) Exactly. I know now that money has to burn. You have to feel it, burning inside. (And that burning comes from the astral plane.) Of course, Mike. The astral desert. Nobody gets fined in the astral desert. (The FSA? The SEC? Fuck 'em, Phil. They can't touch anybody on the plane.) They probably don't even believe in it. (Oh, they're starting to get wise. But they're still a long way behind us.) Let's keep them behind us. (Fuckin' A!)'

The Convertible Bonds fund will be launched on 1st February.

Tuesday, 12 January 2010

What is Cedric de Fonclare up to now?

There is a fucking werewolf outside my bedroom window. Well, to be fair to him/her/it, it is most probably an urban fox. But that is no comfort to me. Not at four in the morning it's not. The cold. Epic dreams. And now this!

But down to business. What is that crazy cat up to now? I mean, Cedric de Fonclare. What is he doing with the life that God gave him? I'll tell you. He's managing a new fund with Stephen Pearson. Yes, Jupiter Asset Management has launched a European absolute return fund as part of its Luxembourg Ucits III fund range. And Cedric and Stephen are running the show.

Well, I was intrigued by this shit, so I got Stephen on the blower. We're old friends. This is what he said: 'Oh Mikey, I was just about to phone you. Do you know Cedric de Fonclare at all? (Only by reputation. He's a funny one, ain't he?) You're telling me. I have to work with him. Do you know what his latest wheeze is? (Lay it on me, Stephen.) He's asking all our investors to prove that they love Big Herb. That's before he accepts any of their money. (Well, that doesn't sound so crazy, man. What's the problem?) The problem, Mike, is that he expects our investors to go straight out into the desert. I'm talking the physical desert here, Mike, at night, alone, not in a group. Then he wants them to make contact with Big Herb, on a one-to-one basis, without a financial shaman in attendance. (Stephen, this is a fucking joke, yeah?) No, I'm not joking, Mike. I said to Cedric, I said "You just wait until Michael Fowke hears about this. He'll hit the fucking roof. Boy, are you in trouble!" That's what I said to him. (Well, he is in fucking trouble because I'm not having this. You can't send a load of square investors - and they are going to be squares, let's face it - to Big Herb, and not expect fucking murders.) You need a shaman for that sort of deal. (Stephen, you need a SENIOR financial shaman! You understand? You don't just walk up to Big Herb and start having a relationship, for Christ's sake! He's a god!) I understand that, Mike. Don't take it out on me. Speak to Cedric.'

Oh, I am going to do more than speak to Cedric. Considerably more. Cedric, mate, here's a little tip. If you see me coming, even in a dream, run. You get me? Run.

Thursday, 7 January 2010

Kevin Kessinger wants his friggin' money!

Yeah. Kevin used to work at Citigroup as some sort of IT nut, but now he is taking legal action against the bank. His severance package has been frozen for the last six months! Can you believe this shit?

O Master, I can believe it. I believe everything I read in this blog.

O my child, do you believe that Big Herb loves us, and that he wants us to be with him on the astral plane?

Yeah, I believe that.

Do you believe that the ghosts of the dead financiers are waiting for us in the desert of our dreams?

Of course.

O my child, if I told you that there was a mystic candle that always burned, if you saw it stated boldly in my blog: THERE IS A MYSTIC CANDLE THAT ALWAYS BURNS - what would you say?

O Master, I would say: I know that there is a mystic candle that always burns. I have known a long time. And I know about the guardians. Oh, I believe! I believe in the mystic candle and its powers.

The mystic candle will lead us out of darkness. Do you believe?

Yes! I believe!

Do you think Mr Kessinger believes?

If he's got any sense, he does.

O Kevin, do you believe?

Tuesday, 5 January 2010

Mark Mobius digs commodities

Yes, he does. Well, he says he does. Mark Mobius is the man behind the Templeton Asian Growth fund, and he likes commodities. Well, so Reuters reckons - see this shit.

But what else does Mr Mobius like? Is there something he wasn't willing to tell Reuters, but is willing to tell me?

I speak to Mark, and Mark speaks to me. We have a connection. A rare, mystical connection. No journalist can get as close to these people as I can. There ain't no journalist who can open up his or her mind at this time in the morning and just send out a message, a message that flows on the astral plane: Mr Mobius speak to me!

You can call me Mark, man. I was calling you Mark, man. But I like calling you Mr Mobius as well. I gotta lot of respect for people like you. You ain't no commie son of a bitch, am I right? You ain't wrong. Mark, my friend, what didn't you tell Reuters? I didn't tell them about the burning love inside. I fucking knew it! Tell my readers about the burning love, man. Tell them how much you dig it. Are they reading this? They will be, once I've cleaned it up a bit. Taken out some of your foul language. Mikey, you can talk! Come on, Mark. Let's hear all about how you love the burning love. Mike, I love to love, but my baby just loves to dance. Who's your baby, man? Metatron. Metatron? Sounds like a fucking robot. No, he's an angel. A top angel. Never heard of him. He's all right. A good sort. He comes to me when I most need him. He enters me - nothing sordid, of course - and he fills me with the burning love of money, and, more often than not, passes on a bit of, er, info. Info? Yeah. He's the one who told me about the pork and beef situation in China. Interesting. I've never heard of this angel. Don't you ever have any dealings with Big Herb or Ganesh the elephant god? I mean, these guys are actually money gods. I can only use them for certain things, Mike. But I've built up a special relationship with this Metatron dude. Take a look at the Talmud. Sure, I'll do that.

Well, dear reader, you learn something new every day, don't you?

Monday, 4 January 2010

David Tepper: $2.5 billion bonus!

Yes, it's a new year, and we have something to celebrate. Already already already there is something to be happy about. David Tepper, the man with the brass balls, the boss of Appaloosa Management, is getting a $2.5 billion bonus! Yes, that's billions, my children. Not millions, billions!

AND A VOICE AND A BODY COME OUT OF NOWHERE! IT IS DAVID TEPPER HIMSELF! HERE HE IS!

O Mikey, O Master, you win some, you lose some - I've won some! People say I rub my brass balls for luck. People say all kinds of ridiculous things. What they don't know is that there is an aching in my heart and in my soul. Yes! I have a longing for the desert. Big Herb is calling me. The ghosts of the dead financiers are calling me. Sometimes I feel a stirring, a mild breeze, something moving in my blood, and it almost explodes! But you actually know how it explodes, don't you, Michael?

Yes, I know how it explodes. And I know how the fever of money can take some people. A bonus of $2.5 billion will take you further. O David, you can have the desert if you really want it, the emptiness that makes us full; but what do you imagine awaits you - out there! The cosmos!

Out in the cosmos? Not out in the desert?!

Oh, strange one (strangers become stranger with great wealth), out in the cosmos! The further money takes you, the stronger the wind. It will be a wind of mystic love! You will be blown from the desert to the outer reaches of the universe, wrapped in banknotes, loved by capitalists who haven't even been born yet.

O Master, will David really go that far, or will it come to him?

O my child, what do you mean?

Maybe David should enter the astral desert. Then he will be able to find the cosmos inside. Then it will explode. All the mystic love. A tornado inside.

Yes! Yes! Yes! That's what I want to do. I want to find the tornado inside! Through the astral desert. Sand in my mouth, suffocating, ha ha ha!

Tornado in the astral desert? The cosmos within? But not a little dust devil. Jack Pickles would appear. O David, come on then. Feel the desert wind in your subconscious. Feel the burning. Feel the love. Can you see stars? David, can you see stars?

David, speak to us! Can you see stars?

O David, can you see fucking stars?! Answer me, man.

Oh, I can see stars! I can feel stars!

Fuck me! David, can you really feel stars?

They are vibrating in my head. There is blood in my mouth! My gums are bleeding! My teeth have turned into snakes!

Oh shit! O Master, his teeth have turned into snakes!

There is nothing to worry about. This is how you become a shaman. This is what money does to you when it is preparing to explode. This is what reality is like when you have let go. David, do not resist. Let go some more, man. All the way. Deeper into the vision you must dive. Deeper! Let the snakes bite you.

His teeth are going to bite him!!! Look!!!

Aaaaaaaaarrrrgghhh! Now a tornado has exploded in my head! The windy teeth of snakes and stars burning in my cells. I see my wallet! Brass balls are rolling towards me! Aaaaaaaaarrrrgghhh!

O Master, he has gone too far! Bring him back!

My child, he hasn't gone anywhere. The cosmos came to him. Look at him smiling. He is at peace. There is not a single thought in his brain at this moment. Silence. He doesn't even see anything now. Floating. Look!

O Master, up, up and away! The astral sky! See the colours change! A rainbow miracle!

Now he has gone.