And I thought that was illegal. But never mind. I'll gloss over it. I don't want to get anyone in trouble. We all have our peccadilloes. Let's concentrate on the news that Bruce Kovner is retiring from Caxton Associates after thirty years. He's had enough. Sick of being chairman and chief executive. It's understandable. He's made his billions. Now he's going to devote himself to mysticism, and to moving beyond money. Well, that's what he has written in a letter to investors. I can't see it happening myself. So it is written, so shall it be done? No, not in this case. The mysticism will be fine, if he follows my example, but moving beyond money? I haven't managed that yet, so how does Bruce expect to do it? Sure, it's an ambition of mine, of all financial shamans, and even the children [- you?], but let's not run before we can walk, eh? And let's have a bit of humility before the mysteries. Arrogance isn't going to help us. It will just shut us off from the prize. None of us want that.
And I know a lot of you wonder: 'Oh, what is the prize? What is it?' Well, I wish I knew. I'm just as much in the dark. I suspect it may be some form of salvation. Oneness with God? I wouldn't rule it out. However, God and I don't exactly see eye to eye. Slightly socialistic, ain't He? That's not really what we're looking for in a leader. And with my cutting Big Herb's throat, well ... you can see what I'm getting at. This 'prize', this 'salvation', is - or is becoming, in a perverse way - my responsibility. I'm the one who will have to lead the children to the promised land. I'm the one who wanted it, after all. I mean, the glory, and that. No one made me settle Big Herb's hash, and send Ganesh the elephant god into exile, or admit the truth about Jack Pickles, or disappear the ghosts of the dead financiers, sideline Satan, and ... defy God. Jesus H. Christ! I feel dizzy! What have I done?! I'm either very brave or very stupid. I'm like Napoleon on the road to Moscow. How many of you will fall? (If I retreat. I'm not retreating!) It's my mad adventure. Are you really coming with me? I can't believe I inspire such devotion.
And I know a lot of you wonder: 'Oh, what is the prize? What is it?' Well, I wish I knew. I'm just as much in the dark. I suspect it may be some form of salvation. Oneness with God? I wouldn't rule it out. However, God and I don't exactly see eye to eye. Slightly socialistic, ain't He? That's not really what we're looking for in a leader. And with my cutting Big Herb's throat, well ... you can see what I'm getting at. This 'prize', this 'salvation', is - or is becoming, in a perverse way - my responsibility. I'm the one who will have to lead the children to the promised land. I'm the one who wanted it, after all. I mean, the glory, and that. No one made me settle Big Herb's hash, and send Ganesh the elephant god into exile, or admit the truth about Jack Pickles, or disappear the ghosts of the dead financiers, sideline Satan, and ... defy God. Jesus H. Christ! I feel dizzy! What have I done?! I'm either very brave or very stupid. I'm like Napoleon on the road to Moscow. How many of you will fall? (If I retreat. I'm not retreating!) It's my mad adventure. Are you really coming with me? I can't believe I inspire such devotion.
