Stuart Leaf, Paul Isaac, Michael Waldron, Richard Collier, and Joel Gantcher!

THEY HAVE GONE HOME!!! Hooray! Back to Cadogan Management LLC! This is brilliant. You see, Stu, Paul, Mick, Rich and Joel, they left a few weeks ago. But they're back already! I can hardly believe it.

This is what Stuart Leaf told me: 'Mikey, yeah, there has been a management buyout. We ain't got nothing to do with Fortis no more. But that's not why we're back. We came home for the mystic burning. We missed it. (The mystic burning? Explain yourself, Stu.) Ah, come on, Mikey. I ain't gotta explain myself to no financial shaman, some mystic lord. You know what I'm talking about, man. (Yeah, Stu, I do know, but I just love to hear top execs talking shit. Come on, baby. Lay it on me.) All right, man, hold on to your hat. We're a hedge fund of funds firm with $3.6 billion that we invest, give or take a few cents, you dig? (Oh, I dig!) Yeah, well, it ain't all about the money with us. I mean, we love money, but it's the mystic burning of cash we really love. And I will tell you straight, I ain't ever experienced burning like you get at Cadogan. You can talk to me about Goldman. You can talk to me about BarCap. And maybe you would be right. I don't know. I'm just talking about my experiences, man. My truth. You dig that? (Stu, the burning is different for everyone. It comes in many ways. Goldman, BarCap, Desert, astral or physical, City of London or Wall Street. It don't matter.) I've learnt that, Mikey, and I've found my way. And you ask all the guys. Ask Mick Waldron about the time he was sitting at his desk and a flame came right out of his mouth, in front of some journalist who was interviewing him at the time. (Oh man, that's crazy!) Damn straight. You speak to Rich. He hears voices in his head in the office, but never anywhere else. And he says he can see the voices as flames! Not just hear them. See them! As flames! How do you explain that? (The voices of dead financiers?) I wouldn't be surprised, Mike. That's why we're back. We are back and we will burn now. Ain't nobody gonna stop us. We have the money. We have the fire. We have the passion.'

Jesus! These guys are serious characters!

Max Nardulli with Cheyne Capital

Yes, now he is. There. With fire in his mouth. I see him. Look! You can see him. This is something holy and pure. If Cheyne Capital vibrates in a lonely cosmos - and we all know it does - then there is nothing to fear. What will Max distribute?

I have been feeling ill all afternoon. And I started off so well, so full of joy at finding Pablo! Not physically ill. Not mentally ill. Spiritually ill! My soul wants to be sick!

O Master, you should not write, not in your condition.

O my child, I am not pregnant. Unless - pregnant with visions!

O Master, will your soul give birth to a new reality?

My soul is ready to burst!

And now I am hearing the words of Max. They come to me. I see the fire of Max. Burning …

Does it all burn? Yes.

Will I feel better? Who can say?

THIS IS NOT SATISFYING! There has to be more than words. There has to be more than visions. Maybe Max has the answer, but not words, not visions. Maybe Cheyne Capital has the answer. Maybe Reuters has the answer. Maybe you, dear reader, have the answer, or maybe some medicine. Something. There must be something else, or something more, or something different.

MAX. MAX. MAX. MAX. MAX. MAX. MAX. MAX. MAX. MAX.

CHEYNECHEYNEcheyne.

Max. M a x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x!

O heavenly powers, restore him!

Pablo Triana: 'CDOs killed us'

Pablo Triana, some crazy cat, has written today that 'CDOs killed us'. That's collateralized debt obligations, for those who don't know and may not even care. They killed us! They killed us?

O Master, CDOs did not kill us. We are still alive.

Pablo also speaks of the gates of hell.

The gates of hell?! O Master, he is in danger.

Yes, he is. Poor Pablo has obviously travelled too far in his mind, and he has lost his way.

O Master, he is wandering in endless night, a child lost in the stars!

Yes. Yes. Yes. O Pablo, come back to us! We are here waiting for you. We love you.

We love you, Pablo!

CDOs did not kill us. O Pablo, you can return safely to our reality. There is nothing to be afraid of. We are still alive. We still breathe. We still burn. WE STILL LOVE. Feel the vibrations! We will send our love to you. Come back to us.

O Pablo, come home!

Our love will bring you back. It will guide you through your consciousness. Stay away from the gates! Satan is lurking.

O Master, Satan will cover him with the demonic ashes of burnt cash.

Look out, Pablo!

O Master, where is he? Does Satan have him?

No. There he is! Up there!

O Master, he is flying high in the friendly astral sky!

Yes. Yes. Yes. HERE HE COMES NOW!

Here he comes! Here he comes! Here he comes!

Hello, Pablo! Welcome back!

Yippee!

O Master, thank you for saving me. I thought I was gone, beyond the reach of any mind.

Don't mention it, Pablo.

We love you, Pablo. Never leave us again.

Lies that are truer than the literal truth

Lies that are truer than the literal truth. Visions of money more real than the cash in our wallets. Dreams of bankers, dreamy bankers with flesh unreal but more than real! Imagined voices, saying things our voices would never say. A fantasy of blood on the walls! A sea of false tears in our eyes!

Speak to me. Let me hear. Show me. Let me see.

Roomy Khan speaks out!

Yeah, I get all the exclusives, me. I must be blessed.

This is what Roomy Khan told me: 'O Mikey, I had to inform on Raj Rajaratnam. It was the only way. I had to escape the clutches of Mr Pickles. You understand, don't you? I have always been a follower of Big Herb. He is my mystic lord. But the evil Mr Pickles came to me in the night, the way he comes to all traders who wander in darkness, the way he came to Raj. Yes, he came for me and I could not resist his charms. I fell into his clutches. Yes, I traded on the dark side. Then one day, at my lowest point, I heard a voice - the golden voice of Big Herb. Like thunder in a dream, he spake unto me: Roomy, my child, you are a sinner. You have destroyed the beautiful flower of righteous money in your heart, and you have tasted the demonic ashes of Jack's cash. The taste of sick money in your mouth! But you can repent. You can turn back towards the light. Go to the FBI. Tell the Feds everything you know, and you shall be saved. O Master, tell me I did the right thing.'

Well, if Big Herb spoke to her, that's good enough for me. I hope the authorities let her go free.

That Raj Rajaratnam letter

The uncensored version:

Dear Galleon Employees, Clients and Friends,

I have decided that it is now in the best interest of our investors, employees and mystic lords to conduct an orderly wind down of Galleon's funds while we explore the cosmos within and without. At this important time, I want to reassure investors of the burning power of our funds and assure Galleon employees that we are seeking the way, the only way, to keep together what I believe is our love. The love we share.

As many of you know, we have built our business on a fundamental belief in Big Herb combined with an intense loathing of Jack Pickles and Satan and all their works. We have encouraged and invited our investors to attend our daily chakra morning workshops. Many of you have done so and got a first-hand look at our chakras as they whirled around. This process is the core of our investment and trading strategy.

The privilege of managing investors' capital is a responsibility that I have always taken very seriously. I want to reiterate that I am innocent of all charges and will defend myself against these accusations with the same intensity and focus I have brought to managing our investors' capital. I have never had any dealings with Jack Pickles. He's no friend of mine.

For those who have been my partners and supporters over the last seventeen years, I sincerely thank you. I also want to thank you for the innumerable expressions of support I have received from you over the past few days. I love you all.

Sincerely,

Raj Rajaratnam

'I've been living up on Trick's rooftop'

Imagine spending your whole life on Trick's rooftop.

That could have happened to Jim Morrison. He could have spent his whole life up there. But he didn't. He formed The Doors, and the rest is history.

He didn't work in a bank either. He went from Trick's rooftop to pop stardom. He spent some time in the desert, of course.

What is a shaman?

Tell us, Jim!

Jim: 'He's the medicine man of the Indians. He gets into a peyote trance, and he gets deeper and deeper and has a vision, and the whole tribe is healed. All cultures have a version of it. The Greeks had theatre and gods. The Indians say the first shaman invented sex. They call him: "The one who makes you crazy".'

And what did Nietzsche say, Jim?

Jim: 'Nietzsche said, "All great things must first wear terrifying and monstrous masks in order to inscribe themselves on the hearts of humanity".'

O Master, you took your mask/sheet off a long time ago.

Yeah. Now I just wear my face.

Raj Rajaratnam, The FBI, Jack Pickles, Bear Stearns …

Right, this is pretty complicated, but let's see if I can make some sense out of it.

Various characters have been accused of insider trading, and the Feds are going around arresting everyone. Raj Rajaratnam, founder of the Galleon hedge fund and long-time associate of Jack Pickles, had phone conversations with Danielle Chiesi (New Castle Partners) who is friends with Mark Kurland. They had a meeting on the astral plane with Robert Moffat (IBM). And that was when all the trouble started, because Moffat was working for Ganesh the elephant god - the only clean one in this affair. Ganesh tipped off the Feds, telling them how Jack was making millions of dollars by getting his hands on inside information at Akamai and AMD, not to mention IBM and Sun Microsystems. There was a lot of trading going on. Satan was involved, in his capacity as Jack's boss and spiritual mentor. A lot of people from Bear Stearns Asset Management were involved. CW-I and CW-II were also involved. Yeah. Stool pigeons. I don't think they have much of a future. Sadly, Jack Pickles does have a future. The Feds won't be able to catch him.

O Master, I think Wittgenstein was right.

Note: Ganesh did what he considered the right thing. We should not get all Kid Creole on him. But CW-I and CW-II were screwing around trying to trap people and all sorts.

The Gartmore UK Equity Income Fund

According to Dan Roberts - the man who manages the Gartmore UK Equity Income Fund - the recent market rally has allowed investors to take advantage of cheap blue chips. And his fund is betting on these blue chips now. But that's not what interests me. What interests me is what he told Reuters: 'Normally, I get my yield from lower-quality companies with the standard kind of risk-return trade off.' You can read the full shit here.

Dan, mate, WE DON'T CARE WHERE YOU GET YOUR YIELD FROM!!!

We want to know where you get your fire from. Have ye ever been burnt in the flaming eyes of Big Herb in a peyote trance in the astral desert of our dreams, and our love? Have ye -

O Master, cut it out with the 'ye'. Jesus!

O Dan, have you ever flown high in the friendly astral sky, eight miles high? We want to know where you get your visions from. Do you even have visions? What kind of fund manager are you? Don't you understand the old ways are over? THE OLD WAYS HAVE BEEN CRUNCHED. We are living in a new world.

O Master, are we?

O my child, we almost are. Almost.

O Master, almost is not enough for men like Dan. They need -

THEY NEED TO BE BURNT IN THE DESERT!!! That's what men like Dan need. I'm tired of all this fucking around. LET'S TAKE THEM!!!

O Master, this is what I'm talking about! Some action! Revolution, man!

There is only one language these people understand. FIRE!!!

Burn them!

Permira and the wall of cash

Crashing into our minds, a wall of cash will smash us, a burning wall of money!

O my children, my brothers, my sisters, my consciousness is on fire! Be my babies. I'll make you happy, my babies, just wait and see. For every kiss you give me, I'll give you three. A kiss of money! A mouthful of cash! O Kurt Bjorklund, say it, say it, man! 'There is a wall of cash coming towards our investors over the next few years.' Yes! Yes! Yes! We will put a bullet of cash into the mouth of every investor. Yes! Yes! Yes! Bang! Bang! Bang! Bullets as well! And the wall - let it burn them! A burning wall, sweeping over them, over us!

Where is Nicholas Levene?

I think we can safely say that Nick Levene is a man who has lived the dream, but where the fuck is he? Apparently, this City financier (derivatives trader) and vice chairman of Leyton Orient FC has done a runner, owing his mates/business associates £70 million or so. For reasons best known to themselves, they call him "Beano". Well, I suppose it could be worse. They could call him the Gangster of Love.

Or the Space Cowboy.

Yes, they could call him the Space Cowboy. Thankfully, they don't.

But maybe they should.

Yes, maybe they should. Because, dear reader - THIS IS A WORLD EXCLUSIVE - I can reveal that Nick is floating around in his own inner space and touching our astral plane in the most wondrous of ways.

O Master, does this mean we can hear him speak?

YES, IT DOES!

Take it away, Nick: 'O Master, can I call you "Master"? You can call me "Beano". I don't mind. Yes, yes, yes, you are right, Master. I am off floating, touching the plane, touching all the believers inside, but hidden from the cold ones of the world who would chase after me for mere money if only they knew where to look. We are men of wisdom. Men ahead of our time. You understand me, don't you, Master? Why should I worry about Richard Caring, or Raymond O’Rourke, or Brian Souter, or Ann Gloag, or … I could go on, but I won't. They are not real to me. What is real to me? Let me tell you: Big Herb is real. Ganesh the elephant god is real. The ghosts of the dead financiers are real. And do they frown upon my activities? Do they look down on me? No! They love me! They welcome me with open arms, in the astral desert of our dreams, in the astral sky of our dreams, and in the astral sea of our dreams - with dolphins! Not sharks! Dolphins! Truly, I am a man who has lived the dream. I'm still living it, man!'

Yeah. Whatever you want to say about Nick, you have to admit that he is living the dream.

Meredith Whitney downgrades Goldman shares!

Yeah. Goldman Sachs' third-quarter earnings are released later this week, and Meredith Whitney - you know, that top analyst bird - has downgraded the bank's shares from buy to neutral. This is an outrage!

O Master, it's always an outrage with you, isn't it?

What does Pablo Picasso have to say about the matter?

The big bouquet of horrors and frights is already waving farewell. And the mussel shells are clacking their teeth, scared to death under the icy ears of boredom.

O Master, I'm sick of this shit! When are you going to stop with all these random quotes which are not germane to the subject in hand?

O my child, the goddamn Germans got nothing to do with it!

Ah yes. The old Buford T. Justice joke. Very amusing. Can we get back to Meredith now?

Meredith. Meredith. Meredith. Where was I?

Oh yes. I am speaking to Meredith. I am listening to her. She explains herself. This is what she speaks unto me: 'Michael, there is a season for everything. You've read Rimbaud. You know all about the seasons of the soul. And you've read Ecclesiastes. And you've listened to the Byrds, no doubt. Well, it's the same for banks. The same for Goldman. There is a time to buy, a time to downgrade to neutral, and a time to sell. Eight miles high, and when you touch down, you dig? Sure, that's a different song, but you dig, yeah? Tell me you dig, Mikey, for Christ's sake!'

O sexy Meredith, of course I dig, girl. But dig this shit -

'The heart of the wise is in the house of mourning; but the heart of fools is in the house of mirth.'

O Master, that sounds like some heavy King Solomon shit! Am I right?

O my child, you are not wrong. King James version, as well.

King James version! You're spoiling us today. Fuck!

But is it germane to the subject? Who cares?! My consciousness will go wherever it wishes.

Riccardo Banchetti ($26,040,000), Georges Assi ($18,637,921), David Bizer ($21,361,794), Giancarlo Saronne ($12,883,007) …

… Harsh Shah (he wants more than $10m), and Kieran Higgins (God knows how much he wants).

Yeah. That's the money these guys want, and I reckon they should get it.

All of them worked at Lehman Brothers. To them, these sums represent lost pay and bonuses.

But what else did they lose?

In the dark, lonely nights following the collapse of Lehman, didn't they also lose the burning inside, the voices of ghosts, and the love of Big Herb? How on earth could they ever be compensated for such losses?

THEY SHOULD BE GIVEN THE MONEY THEY ARE CLAIMING.

It may go some way to assuaging their grief.

Kris Haber to Threadneedle and beyond!

Beyond Threadneedle! Beyond money!

It had to happen sooner or later. It had to happen. Mr Haber had to leave Lazard Asset Management. There was no way he could stay, after seeing what he had seen, after experiencing such miseries beyond the imagination of any normal financier, banker or trader. So, dear reader, try not to imagine! And do not dare judge him, or attempt to criticize him. You should walk a mile in his old shoes first. But you would not want to walk a mile in Mr Haber's old shoes - oh, he has new shoes now, Threadneedle shoes! No, you would not even want to walk half a mile. Those shoes wouldn't fit you anyway. You would crawl. Yes, you would crawl through an astral waste land, an astral desert, a lonely city street, a gutter! Yes, you would fall into the gutter, and you would not survive such a terrible fate.

But Kris has survived! He has been through it all. And now he must go further! Oh, they say he has joined as head of Threadneedle's North American and hedge fund businesses. And maybe he has. Maybe he has. BUT THAT IS NOT THE WHOLE TRUTH. They have not been willing to tell us everything. They are afraid, you see. They know that Kris must go beyond money now. He cannot be held back! Kris is a man who has a strong sense of his own destiny. He could never be satisfied with working in an office. That would be INSANE. Kris is a man who knows, who feels it in his burning soul, that he must stretch himself. He will travel beyond money! He will go on to the astral plane. HE WILL RISK HIS LIFE. He will put his burning soul on the line. And his aura! Yes, it is a crimson aura he has. I have seen it. As Mallarme would say: his naked aura is thrashing crimson space. No, that's not right. His naked golds are thrashing his crimson aura. No! But … you understand, right, dear reader? Surely you understand me well enough by now.

And what if he fails? What if Kris burns himself to a crisp? What then? Well, as another poet would say: other horrible workers will come! They will begin at the horizons where the first one has fallen! Where Kris has fallen! Yes, if Kris fell, down, down, down he would go! Spiralling out of sight, away from the gaze of our sad eyes. We would not be able to reach him. Not even with our minds! HE WOULD NOT SURVIVE THAT.

O Kris, we love you! We love and respect you so very much. Good luck with it all.

Simon Todd and Michael Nickson will be working with Crispin Odey!

What?! Yeah, I couldn't believe it myself, when Ruth told me this morning. Ruth? Yeah, you know, Ruth. Oh, Ruth! That Ruth! But she told everyone, man. Yeah, she did. But, anyway, Simon Todd and Michael Nickson are not going to set up on their own. What a shock! They are going to be managing the Odey Global Allegra fund at Odey Asset Management, which will be launched next month - the fund, that is. The new fund will be launched, you mean? That's exactly what I mean.

BUT HERE IS THE DISTURBING BIT: that tight bastard Crispin ain't gonna give them no money to play with!

O Master, what the fuck?! Is this guy for real?

Well, okay, my child, he's going to give them a little bit of money, just a little bit. But not a lot. He won't be giving them a lot of money. And that will be a crying shame because Simon and Michael need a lot of money.

O Master, how will they burn without it, without a lot of money?

Exactly. How will they burn?

I think we should bring Dylan Thomas in at this point: FROM POLES OF SKULL AND TOE THE WINDY BLOOD.

Eh?

Well, that was a fucking mistake, wasn't it?

O Master, I think you should speak to Simon Todd. You'll probably get more sense out of him.

O Simon Todd, I am calling you. Speak to me! Speak to my readers, man! Simon?

Try Michael Nickson.

O Michael, Michael Nickson, are you there? Michael?

He's not there. He's not anywhere. He doesn't exist!

Of course he exists! Don't be so ridiculous. How on earth would he be able to outperform benchmarks and shit like that if he didn't even exist?

O Master, Simon is the one who outperforms benchmarks, to the best of my knowledge.

THEY BOTH DO!!! Why do you think Crispin wants them?

Try Crispin.

O Crispin, Crispin, where are you? Speak to us, Crispin. Or at least give us a sign. Make us believe in you. Silence the doubters. Come on, man. Come from the sky profound, or the abyss.

You're paraphrasing Charlie boy now! I thought we weren't going to touch that twat with a bargepole. I thought we had told him to do one. I prefer Dylan. Always have done.

Well, he's not here, is he? No Charlie, no Crispin, no Simon, no Michael. It has been a complete $^$%££* $*%$$£ this morning.

Strong words!

WHAT OF A BAMBOO MAN AMONG YOUR ACRES?

Shut it!

Darren Morton and Christopher Parry: free as birds!

Absolutely brilliant news! Darren Morton and Christopher Parry, both employees of Dresdner Kleinwort (Commerzbank), have got away scot-free! Okay, the FSA had a go at them. Accused them of market abuse 'in relation to a new issue of Barclays' bonds'. Some K2 shit. But that ain't no big deal. THEY DIDN'T GET FINED. That's the main thing.

I have been speaking to award-winning financial psychic Keith Busby about the lads. This is what he told me: 'Mikey, Daz and Chris are personal friends of mine. We go back years - ever since they came to one of my chakra workshops. They are great guys. (Keith, mate, have you spoken to them?) Yeah, I was on the astral plane with them just half an hour ago. They are as free as birds now. Flying through the astral sky with gay abandon. Their auras are shining. Their chakras are whirling. (Keith, it sounds like they're just happy to be alive. Enjoying the astral plane. Having it large - as it were.) Oh Mikey, there is no 'were' about it. They ARE having it large. Right now, as we speak! (Fucking awesome, Keith!) And you know they didn't profit from their trades, don't you? (They'll be rewarded in the afterlife.) Of course they will.'

Free as birds! Dear reader, do you have astral eyes? Watch them!

Maan al Sanea: frozen money!

This is the first I have heard of it. But as soon as I heard of it. Which is right now. Yes, right now I hear of it. Voices out of the desert? O my child, what do you think, man? Maan al Sanea - such a groovy name, maaaaaaaaaaaaaan!!! - has had all his money frozen!

This is an outrage!

Only yesterday I was speaking, Louie Louie was speaking, of the hot, sticky money that loves us in the desert of our dreams. O Master, the money that we love! Yes! Yes! Yes! Now this: Maan has bills to pay. $800,000 a month! BUT $9.2 BILLION OF HIS HARD-EARNED CASH has been stolen! Frozen? Whatever. But he can't get his hands on the money.

CHARLES BAUDELAIRE HAS SOMETHING TO SAY!!!: And yet among the jackals, panthers, hounds, the monkeys, serpents, vultures, scorpions, the beasts which howl and growl and crawl and scream and in our heinous zoo of sins -

Button it, Charlie boy! We ain't got time for your shit.

O Master, Maan has a zoo, man!

WE HAVE TO DO SOMETHING ABOUT THIS!!!

O Big Herb, please unfreeze Maan's money. He is a good lad. He is one of us. Please help him. Bless him with sticky money. Let a million suns burn the money into his face. Then we will all be able to sing and dance together in the desert of our dreams. Astral, physical, metaphysical muthas together as one!

Amen. Or rather - fuckin' A!

Pimco’s Bill Gross says the Total Return fund is staying open!

Those vast nights which know no lullaby - Charles Baudelaire

Right, the good news is: we don't have to worry about no fucking vast nights without any knowledge of some lullaby shit. At least, not where Pimco's co-chief investment officer Bill Gross is concerned. And you wanna know why? Well, because he ain't closing his Total Return fund. This fund has $186 billion in assets now, and more investors are welcome!

And the bad news? There ain't no bad news. Not today. Charlie can go screw himself.

3001 AD: Jimmy L. Barker, Robert J. Ladrach, and Marc S. Rifkin

Oh, it was some kind of boiler room oddity, and that's why the SEC charged these guys, and these sales agents who were working for these visionaries - Ronald B. Bowsky, Jack W. Maddock, and Michael J. Weidgans. Yeah, Jimmy, Robert, and Marc - mad visionary muthas! But I ain't gonna judge them, man, because I know where they're coming from and where they're going to. These guys can see into the future - a thousand years!

They got $20 million out of 500 investors! It was an odyssey! These dudes were off floating in their own private cosmos. They went from Florida to somewhere else, where only a handful of souls have ever been. No, scrub that! THEY ARE THE ONLY ONES! They made it for themselves.

Well, yeah, private cosmos, boss. Obviously.

Yeah. But was it virtual reality? No, it was REAL! REAL REALITY!

Let me tell you what is real. I am real. The mystical children are real. WE BURN IN THE FUCKING DESERT! This isn't a joke to us. This is HOW WE LIVE. And you want to disrespect us, man?

O Master, who are you talking to?

I ain't talking to no one, my child. But I'm talking to everyone, you dig? People say to me: 'Man, you shouldn't speak of the desert. You shouldn't speak of the burning. The world isn't ready. The world won't understand. They may think it's not real.'

Who are these people?

They are voices. Just like you, like me. I'M SICK AND TIRED OF THIS SHIT! Jimmy Barker - that man took a risk! He ain't no illusion, he's real. FLESH AND FUCKING BLOOD, FOR CHRIST'S SAKE!!! Same goes for Robert and Marc. I understand what they were trying to achieve.

Have they ever been in the desert?

I don't know. That's not important. I tell you one thing, my child. They are familiar with the cosmos. THEY HAVE BEEN LOVED BY THE COSMOS. And that's good enough for me.

Their private cosmos.

Whatever.