Back to the old style, one more time, for old times' sake. I can't resist. I miss my conversations with Lloyd. Yeah, he's a real pain, but ... you know what I mean. He has a certain vitality.
Anyway, he phoned me late last night. You can believe it - or not. Try to believe. This is what the crazy bastard said to me: 'Mikey, I want you to destroy Lee Robinson. (Lee Robinson?) Lee Robinson, Lee Robinson! That f**king punk, that f**king douche bag, the f**k with Trafalgar Asset Managers, running the joint, and guess what, like I'm nothing to the bum, this f**king creep has this Altana shit now, and - (Lloyd, how many times have I got to tell you, this is a family blog? Just don't curse around me. I don't like it.) What f**king blog?! I'm on the f**king phone over here. (This all goes in my blog, yeah? You know this.) Jesus Christ, Mikey, I can't even phone an old friend without my privacy being invaded? Is this how it is? Where's the respect? (I respect you, Lloyd, but it's the same as it's always been. You know I don't keep anything from my readers. Oh, by the way, is it true about David Solomon?) I don't know no David Solomon. (You don't know no David Solomon?!) No, I don't know no David Solomon. (You got a gun?) Get the f**k outta here, man! (All right, Lloyd, seriously, what's your beef with Robinson?) This f**king prick, he has some f**king balls, you know? I says to him, no f**king global macro shit - we've been bankrolling this prick, you understand? - so he says, yeah Lloyd, no problem, no global macro shit. And that bastard, he smiled at me! (Right. Next thing you know -) Next thing I know, Mikey, listen, he's going around raising money for a new Monaco venture, this Altana, that will "pursue a global macro trading strategy" as they say, the f**ks, yeah? (It's a fucking shame.) Can you believe it? (It is hard to believe.) So this is what I want you to do - (Lloyd, I'm all, er, respectable, at the minute.) What, you got religion? You kidding me, or what? (I don't go on the astral plane no more. Don't even touch the desert. And I don't ... hurt people any more. Well, I try not to. I gotta think of my angel now. She don't want me getting mixed up with any bad shit. It could affect her job.) Mikey, you're living in a f**king dream world. This angel, she ain't for you. There must be another broad, somewhere, for you? (There's only my angel.) Jesus Christ. So what am I going to do? (Put Viniar on the job.) Viniar ain't right for this. I don't want it traced back to Goldman. I gotta be subtle. I was hoping you would go back on the plane and work the old magic. You've got the makings of a savage god, man. (I can't do it.) I know what you're planning for those Greek goons. Hey, if it's a question of money ... I mean, I know things haven't worked out with Bobby D. (I'm okay.) I could lend you some, even. (Yeah, at three points over the vig. What am I, a schmuck on wheels?) All right, Mike, I'll see ya around. (Bye, Lloyd.) Don't mention Solomon.'
Don't mention Solomon? I owe it to my readers.
Anyway, he phoned me late last night. You can believe it - or not. Try to believe. This is what the crazy bastard said to me: 'Mikey, I want you to destroy Lee Robinson. (Lee Robinson?) Lee Robinson, Lee Robinson! That f**king punk, that f**king douche bag, the f**k with Trafalgar Asset Managers, running the joint, and guess what, like I'm nothing to the bum, this f**king creep has this Altana shit now, and - (Lloyd, how many times have I got to tell you, this is a family blog? Just don't curse around me. I don't like it.) What f**king blog?! I'm on the f**king phone over here. (This all goes in my blog, yeah? You know this.) Jesus Christ, Mikey, I can't even phone an old friend without my privacy being invaded? Is this how it is? Where's the respect? (I respect you, Lloyd, but it's the same as it's always been. You know I don't keep anything from my readers. Oh, by the way, is it true about David Solomon?) I don't know no David Solomon. (You don't know no David Solomon?!) No, I don't know no David Solomon. (You got a gun?) Get the f**k outta here, man! (All right, Lloyd, seriously, what's your beef with Robinson?) This f**king prick, he has some f**king balls, you know? I says to him, no f**king global macro shit - we've been bankrolling this prick, you understand? - so he says, yeah Lloyd, no problem, no global macro shit. And that bastard, he smiled at me! (Right. Next thing you know -) Next thing I know, Mikey, listen, he's going around raising money for a new Monaco venture, this Altana, that will "pursue a global macro trading strategy" as they say, the f**ks, yeah? (It's a fucking shame.) Can you believe it? (It is hard to believe.) So this is what I want you to do - (Lloyd, I'm all, er, respectable, at the minute.) What, you got religion? You kidding me, or what? (I don't go on the astral plane no more. Don't even touch the desert. And I don't ... hurt people any more. Well, I try not to. I gotta think of my angel now. She don't want me getting mixed up with any bad shit. It could affect her job.) Mikey, you're living in a f**king dream world. This angel, she ain't for you. There must be another broad, somewhere, for you? (There's only my angel.) Jesus Christ. So what am I going to do? (Put Viniar on the job.) Viniar ain't right for this. I don't want it traced back to Goldman. I gotta be subtle. I was hoping you would go back on the plane and work the old magic. You've got the makings of a savage god, man. (I can't do it.) I know what you're planning for those Greek goons. Hey, if it's a question of money ... I mean, I know things haven't worked out with Bobby D. (I'm okay.) I could lend you some, even. (Yeah, at three points over the vig. What am I, a schmuck on wheels?) All right, Mike, I'll see ya around. (Bye, Lloyd.) Don't mention Solomon.'
Don't mention Solomon? I owe it to my readers.
