Random Shots

My vacation is winding down. I had a great time with my wife and kids. Life is different here. No one gives a shit about stocks or bonds. However, little do they know how much their tourism revenues depends on a healthy western economy. On my seven day hiatus from the real world, I must have spent upwards of 12k on a wide array of accouterments. Naturally, Mrs. Fly had to shop for souvenirs, like a mad woman. And I had to eat at every high end eatery within 50 miles, like a fucking glutton, because that’s what I do.

Come Monday, I hop on a plane and fly back to civilization, where fucktards are literally trying to destroy the world on a real time basis. Will the stock market crash or not? Better yet, will Ben Bernanke save the motherfucking day, or not? Will gold keep going higher? And, moreover, is John Paulson’s asshat fund closing the fuck down, taking every stock he owns with it? All of these questions, and much much more, need to be answered, and soon.

This life of a stock operator is asinine, when I think about it. It’s speculation on speculation, with a twist of gambling. There are methods to game this market; but it’s never easy. Each and every time I make a bold move, I get the distinct feeling that “this time might be different.” When it all pans out, short term memory lapses kick in and I go back to square one.

I never hate on fellow managers who lose their mojo. I can see how people can easily lose their way, cutting through all the bullshit, all the stress and the lies and the backstabbers. Take a guy like Bill Miller, asshat money manager at Legg Mason. Sure, Bill sucks moose balls now and people love to give him shit about it, myself included. However, he was a fucking stud for decades. The same with John Paulson. All of you little bastards are ripping into John, for being retarded. However, the man accomplished greatness. He lost his way and will be recycled. That’s life.

Personally, I’d rather take a stab at accomplishing greatness, even if it’s only for a short time, than live out my days like an average Joe. Anyone remember Randy Stone? Of course not. But I bet you fuckers remember Macho Man Randy Savage.

You see these people on Twitter talking shit? Several of them are documented hedge fund failures. Now they want to train you how to run money? That’s fucking hilarious. Look, I’ve been managing vast sums of money for 14 years. There is a huge difference between telling someone on a blog, or via a newsletter, to buy XYZ because it’s “awesome and amazing” than putting millions of dollars into said ideas and having to deal with real life consequences. That’s my unique, double edged sword dilemma. When you little skittles talk shit about WNR or DECK or whatever stock I am buying, there is real money at stake, not just my reputation. When people fuck with my money, I eat them whole, like a pelican at a beach. I will attach c-4 to your brains and catapult you into active helicopter blades.

Hence, I liberally ban people at will.

Coming soon, iBC is in the final stages of a complete web redesign, very drastic and groundbreaking. It will make all of the other 3rd tier blogs melt away like a snowman in Turks and Caicos.