I must be dreaming, or it must be a nightmaring I'm going through. Someone is paying £335 million for Gartmare?!
{As a pure asset management house, they know what investors want from them [who? Henderson?]: to help them achieve their investment objectives by delivering performance that meets their expectations. [Where are we?] Every investment decision they take has a direct impact on their clients. That is why they have structured (them?)selves with empowered decision-making at the heart of their business. Their fund managers are organised into compact, nimble teams, able to take decisions without the hindrance of a house-style or committee structure. Decisions are taken in a mystical way - mindful of the risks yet alive to the opportunities.}
In a mystical way? There isn't anything mystical about buying Gartmore for £335 million. I would have heard something. I would have felt something. It would have come to me, two Henderson shares for every three Gartmore shares.
I wasn't looking forward to writing this post. But every post is another inch.
This is private, I'm afraid. You shouldn't be reading this. I might have to put up a paywall. It will cost you £100 to read one post.
Are you a spirit? No? Then what are you doing here? Are you a shaman? No? Then you have no business being here.
This is fun, isn't it?
There is no news. Nothing changes. I could never do what they do. It would sicken me. Pretending something is happening. Nothing is happening. There is no story. Just a black hole. Just an empty head. Believe what you want. I wouldn't take it seriously. Don't do it. Don't believe it. That's my advice. Nothing will change.
Don't encourage them. Where do you get all your enthusiasm from? What motivates you? Hasn't anyone told you? It's all over. It never began. How can I persuade you to give it up? What do I have to do?
They are not as intelligent as they would have you believe. That's obvious. The lies are unbearable. The smug faces. But they live in dirt.
This will end soon, this post. There will be another one. More emptiness. At least I know it. I'm not fooling myself, or anyone else. I am honest. That's something, isn't it? I tell the truth. I know it's all death. And I say it is.
{As a pure asset management house, they know what investors want from them [who? Henderson?]: to help them achieve their investment objectives by delivering performance that meets their expectations. [Where are we?] Every investment decision they take has a direct impact on their clients. That is why they have structured (them?)selves with empowered decision-making at the heart of their business. Their fund managers are organised into compact, nimble teams, able to take decisions without the hindrance of a house-style or committee structure. Decisions are taken in a mystical way - mindful of the risks yet alive to the opportunities.}
In a mystical way? There isn't anything mystical about buying Gartmore for £335 million. I would have heard something. I would have felt something. It would have come to me, two Henderson shares for every three Gartmore shares.
_________________________
I wasn't looking forward to writing this post. But every post is another inch.
This is private, I'm afraid. You shouldn't be reading this. I might have to put up a paywall. It will cost you £100 to read one post.
Are you a spirit? No? Then what are you doing here? Are you a shaman? No? Then you have no business being here.
This is fun, isn't it?
There is no news. Nothing changes. I could never do what they do. It would sicken me. Pretending something is happening. Nothing is happening. There is no story. Just a black hole. Just an empty head. Believe what you want. I wouldn't take it seriously. Don't do it. Don't believe it. That's my advice. Nothing will change.
Don't encourage them. Where do you get all your enthusiasm from? What motivates you? Hasn't anyone told you? It's all over. It never began. How can I persuade you to give it up? What do I have to do?
They are not as intelligent as they would have you believe. That's obvious. The lies are unbearable. The smug faces. But they live in dirt.
This will end soon, this post. There will be another one. More emptiness. At least I know it. I'm not fooling myself, or anyone else. I am honest. That's something, isn't it? I tell the truth. I know it's all death. And I say it is.
