who knew one of the most perfect stories about "show business" and "art as profession" would come from this guy. i defy you to put "it" any better than this:
Showing newest 64 of 77 posts from March 2008. Show older posts
Showing newest 64 of 77 posts from March 2008. Show older posts
31 March 2008
Woody's Pissed
Woody Allen Files Lawsuit Over American Apparel Billboards
Woody filed a lawsuit Monday seeking more than $10 million from American Apparel over unauthorised billboard and online adverts featuring Allen dressed as a rabbi from Annie Hall.
The lawsuit alleges the Los Angeles blank t-shirt mafia put up billboards in New York and Hollywood without Woody's permission. The images also were displayed in advertising on American Apparel's website and in sponsored advertisements on other websites.
The lawsuit states Woody Allen was unaware that the co. was going to utilise his image in any adverts. Allen was not contacted, nor did he in any way give his consent to the use of his image and likeness, and he was not in any way compensated for the same, either prior to the infringement or thereafter.
The complaint said the unlawful use of Allen's image for commercial advertising was "especially egregious and damaging because Allen does not commercially endorse any products in the United States of America."
Woody filed a lawsuit Monday seeking more than $10 million from American Apparel over unauthorised billboard and online adverts featuring Allen dressed as a rabbi from Annie Hall.
The lawsuit alleges the Los Angeles blank t-shirt mafia put up billboards in New York and Hollywood without Woody's permission. The images also were displayed in advertising on American Apparel's website and in sponsored advertisements on other websites.
The lawsuit states Woody Allen was unaware that the co. was going to utilise his image in any adverts. Allen was not contacted, nor did he in any way give his consent to the use of his image and likeness, and he was not in any way compensated for the same, either prior to the infringement or thereafter.
The complaint said the unlawful use of Allen's image for commercial advertising was "especially egregious and damaging because Allen does not commercially endorse any products in the United States of America."
Nothing says "buy more ironic tube socks" like Woody dressed as a rabbi.
Read all articles on American Apparel Read More
An Idiot’s Guide to Financial Crises
When a persons livelihood is on the line - that person being me, that livelihood being the names of the firms you've been reading in the paper for the past few weeks - you tend to become an expert on all this shit fast. I came across this article in New York and thought it was cool.
An Idiot’s Guide to Financial Crises
By Adam Sternbergh
I don’t know anything about money. I don’t mean that I’m not a financial expert. I mean that, when it comes to money, I’m functionally illiterate. I don’t like to think about finances, and on the rare occasions that I do, my thought process goes like this: I have a job. I earn money. I spend most of it. The rest I put in a savings account. That’s it. People who know about money are always yelling at me, because they can’t believe I’m still throwing away money by renting (mortgages are confusing) or not diversifying my portfolio (what portfolio?). And I freely acknowledge that people who think a lot about money will invariably accumulate more of it than I will. And I’m okay with that, since the trade-off is, I don’t have to spend my time thinking about money.
But even I understand that, when people who think a lot about money get worried, I should get worried, too. Which is how I found myself anxiously scanning through articles that consisted of 90 percent gobbledygook (credit-default swaps?) and 10 percent startling quotes such as, “The situation is very bad, the situation is getting worse, and the risks are that it could get very bad” (National Bureau of Economic Research president Martin Feldstein) and “The current financial crisis in the U.S. is likely to be judged in retrospect as the most wrenching since the end of the Second World War” (Alan Greenspan—that guy’s smart, right?). Because for me, finding out that an 85-year-old investment bank nearly failed is like waking up to the headline fire department burns to the ground. And then turning on the TV to find the fire chief saying, “Yeah, this is a pretty bad fire. It could well be out of control. And no one really knows how many more houses will burn down.” Really, Fire Chief? Aren’t you supposed to be keeping tabs on that kind of thing? And is this the point at which I should start getting worried that my tiny little house is going to burn down, too?
So I did what I normally do when I don’t know anything about something, which is to call up some people who do. Of course, when it comes to the economy, there are many, many people who claim to know a lot about it, yet they don’t agree with each other at all. Except for right now. Because while people disagree on who started the fire, or how long it will burn, everyone seems to be on the same page about one thing: The house is definitely on fire.
“Here’s the simple version,” says Tyler Cowen, professor of economics at George Mason University and author of Discover Your Inner Economist. “The real-estate bubble collapsed. There needs to be a big sectoral shift into other things. The Fed can’t help that much. So we’re in a recession. And all the meanings of that—lower retail sales, higher unemployment, and so on—odds are we’ll get those. That’s the bad news for the person on the street.” And, if your street happens to be in New York, the news is even worse for you. That’s because all those people in the financial sector who are now losing their jobs live here, and spend a lot of money here, and pay taxes here. This means less money in the system, which means everyone feels the pain.
Thus far, much of the talk about this “crisis” has centered on failed mortgages and falling housing prices, which I don’t care about, since I don’t own a house, especially not one built ten minutes ago in Arizona. But this crisis isn’t about houses anymore. “Say you bought a house two years ago for $450,000,” says Barry Ritholtz, CEO and director of Equity Research at Fusion IQ. “And it’s worth $425,000 this year, and $430,000 next year—ultimately, who cares? It’s not going to zero. Your house isn’t the problem. The way this will really impact people is the prices you pay for goods. And we’re starting to see it affect employment as well. You know, the traditional economic worries: Stuff costs more money and you may get fired.”
So let me get this straight. I might lose my job. And right when I lose my job, I’m going to find that my savings are worth less, and that prices for things are going up. Like gas. And milk. “The reason this has become such a mess,” says Ritholtz, “is because the housing market imploded, and now the credit crunch is affecting the ability of businesses and individuals to borrow money, which has caused the Fed to do what they do best: lower interest rates, print money, and try to inject cash into the system. But there’s a cost to that. The cost is inflation.”
But even I understand that, when people who think a lot about money get worried, I should get worried, too. Which is how I found myself anxiously scanning through articles that consisted of 90 percent gobbledygook (credit-default swaps?) and 10 percent startling quotes such as, “The situation is very bad, the situation is getting worse, and the risks are that it could get very bad” (National Bureau of Economic Research president Martin Feldstein) and “The current financial crisis in the U.S. is likely to be judged in retrospect as the most wrenching since the end of the Second World War” (Alan Greenspan—that guy’s smart, right?). Because for me, finding out that an 85-year-old investment bank nearly failed is like waking up to the headline fire department burns to the ground. And then turning on the TV to find the fire chief saying, “Yeah, this is a pretty bad fire. It could well be out of control. And no one really knows how many more houses will burn down.” Really, Fire Chief? Aren’t you supposed to be keeping tabs on that kind of thing? And is this the point at which I should start getting worried that my tiny little house is going to burn down, too?
So I did what I normally do when I don’t know anything about something, which is to call up some people who do. Of course, when it comes to the economy, there are many, many people who claim to know a lot about it, yet they don’t agree with each other at all. Except for right now. Because while people disagree on who started the fire, or how long it will burn, everyone seems to be on the same page about one thing: The house is definitely on fire.
“Here’s the simple version,” says Tyler Cowen, professor of economics at George Mason University and author of Discover Your Inner Economist. “The real-estate bubble collapsed. There needs to be a big sectoral shift into other things. The Fed can’t help that much. So we’re in a recession. And all the meanings of that—lower retail sales, higher unemployment, and so on—odds are we’ll get those. That’s the bad news for the person on the street.” And, if your street happens to be in New York, the news is even worse for you. That’s because all those people in the financial sector who are now losing their jobs live here, and spend a lot of money here, and pay taxes here. This means less money in the system, which means everyone feels the pain.
Thus far, much of the talk about this “crisis” has centered on failed mortgages and falling housing prices, which I don’t care about, since I don’t own a house, especially not one built ten minutes ago in Arizona. But this crisis isn’t about houses anymore. “Say you bought a house two years ago for $450,000,” says Barry Ritholtz, CEO and director of Equity Research at Fusion IQ. “And it’s worth $425,000 this year, and $430,000 next year—ultimately, who cares? It’s not going to zero. Your house isn’t the problem. The way this will really impact people is the prices you pay for goods. And we’re starting to see it affect employment as well. You know, the traditional economic worries: Stuff costs more money and you may get fired.”
So let me get this straight. I might lose my job. And right when I lose my job, I’m going to find that my savings are worth less, and that prices for things are going up. Like gas. And milk. “The reason this has become such a mess,” says Ritholtz, “is because the housing market imploded, and now the credit crunch is affecting the ability of businesses and individuals to borrow money, which has caused the Fed to do what they do best: lower interest rates, print money, and try to inject cash into the system. But there’s a cost to that. The cost is inflation.”
Very necessary:
1. “Angry Bear”
2. “The Heist”
3. “The Bear Stearns Bull” by Jim Cramer
4. Hundreds of people are protesting in my lobby right now
Blow thy Seven Trumpets for the Return of the Antichrist
The former co-star of the syndicated "Live with Regis" talk show will join NBC's "Today" next Monday. The announcement was made during todays broadcast.
Kathie Lee will be teamed up with Bubba Hotep, the current anchor of the program's seven-month-old fourth hour, which starts live at 10 a.m.
Gifford, 54, who left Regis Philbin and "Live" in 2000, joked that the timing of her TV return "couldn't be worse" in certain ways: "I'm eight years older, 10 pounds heavier, a half-inch shorter, and just in time for HD television." And broke as a joke.
Long married to former NFL star and sports announcer Frank Gifford, she joked, "It's going to be good to be working. I'm really tired of staying home and watching Frank's old highlight films."
In 1997, The Globe hired TWA flight attendant Suzen Johnson to seduce Frank in a hotel room equipped with cameras installed by The Globe. ESPN later reported that Johnson was paid $75,000.
Johnson was successful and The Globe published photographs showing Frank Gifford with Johnson. The New York District Attorney considered filing criminal charges against The Globe for, among other things, prostitution, but the Giffords asked that they drop the case.
In the November following the Gifford scandal, Johnson appeared on the cover of Playboy.
As a flight attendant for TWA, Johnson was scheduled to work on TWA Flight 800 which crashed in 1996, but she swapped shifts the day before. Wow.
Madonna Says New York Is Dead
From the new Vanity Fair:
“New York is not the exciting place it used to be. It still has great energy; I still put my finger in the socket. But it doesn't feel alive, cracking with that synergy between the art world and music world and fashion world that was happening in the 80s. A lot of people died.”
Yes, I would imagine New York would be a bit boorish for a tried and true Brit like M. Louise Ciccone.
Nigga please!
Doppelgänger
The word "doppelgänger" is a German loanword. It derives from Doppel (double) and Gänger (walker). The literal translation of the German word is "doublewalker", meaning someone who is acting the same way as another person.
The word is also used to describe the sensation of having glimpsed oneself in peripheral vision, in a position where there is no chance that it could have been a reflection. They are generally regarded as harbingers of bad luck.
In some traditions, a doppelgänger seen by a person's friends or relatives portends illness or danger, while seeing one's own doppelgänger is an omen of death. In Norse mythology, a vardøger is a ghostly double who precedes a living person and is seen performing their actions in advance.
In English, the word is conventionally uncapitalized (doppelgänger). It is also common to drop the diacritic umlaut, writing "doppelganger". The correct alternative German spelling would be "Doppelgaenger".
On 8 July 1822, Percy Bysshe Shelley, an English poet, drowned in the Bay of Spezia near Lerici.
On 15 August, while staying at Pisa, Mary Shelley wrote a letter to Maria Gisborne in which she relayed Percy's claims to her that he had met his own doppelgänger. A week after Mary's nearly fatal miscarriage, in the early hours of 23 June, Percy had had a nightmare about the house collapsing in a flood, and... talking it over the next morning he told me that he had had many visions lately — he had seen the figure of himself which met him as he walked on the terrace & said to him — "How long do you mean to be content?" — No very terrific words & certainly not prophetic of what has occurred. But Shelley had often seen these figures when ill; but the strangest thing is that Mrs Williams saw him. Now Jane though a woman of sensibility, has not much imagination & is not in the slightest degree nervous — neither in dreams or otherwise. She was standing one day, the day before I was taken ill, at a window that looked on the Terrace with Trelawny — it was day — she saw as she thought Shelley pass by the window, as he often was then, without a coat or jacket — he passed again — now as he passed both times the same way — and as from the side towards which he went each time there was no way to get back except past the window again (except over a wall twenty feet from the ground) she was struck at seeing him pass twice thus & looked out & seeing him no more she cried — "Good God can Shelley have leapt from the wall? Where can he be gone?" Shelley, said Trelawny — "No Shelley has past — What do you mean?" Trelawny says that she trembled exceedingly when she heard this & it proved indeed that Shelley had never been on the terrace & was far off at the time she saw him.
Percy Shelley's drama Prometheus Unbound (1820) contains the following passage in Act I: "Ere Babylon was dust, / The Magus Zoroaster, my dear child, / Met his own image walking in the garden. / That apparition, sole of men, he saw. / For know there are two worlds of life and death: / One that which thou beholdest; but the other / Is underneath the grave, where do inhabit / The shadows of all forms that think and live / Till death unite them and they part no more...."
"For those who believe in God, most of the big questions are answered. But for those of us who can't readily accept the God formula, the big answers don't remain stone-written. We adjust to new conditions and discoveries. We are pliable. Love need not be a command or faith a dictum. I am my own God. We are here to unlearn the teachings of the church, state, and our educational system. We are here to drink beer. We are here to kill war. We are here to laugh at the odds and live our lives so well that death will tremble to take us. " - Charles Bukowski
Read MoreIt all happened on the Queens bound D. She was searching for a minimally invasive emotional relationship and he had Jerry Orbach's eyes. Literally. Jerry was an eye donor when he died and as a result saved two people from blindness. This guy was one of them. The other, well the other doesn't matter to this story. But I'm getting ahead of myself. Let's start from the very, very beginning.
I guess it all started in Maui. Used to spend the weekends there. Right off La Perouse Bay. And I really got into it. I even had a giant mural of Queen Liliuokalani hanging over my California King. I'd had a late night with some friends and my head was throbbing like a digital clock yet to be set blinks 12:00. I was up until the sun rose talking over macadamia nuts, papaya and a whole case of Taittinger rose champagne and now I had the headache to match. Now my better half was up making coffee and I was trying to make out what record she was blasting in the living room. I was on the second floor and it was muffled but it sounded like Motown and the coffee smelled like home, like Brooklyn. Temptations maybe? I could only really make out the bass and the drums from upstairs. Martha and the Vandellas perhaps? I knew it was something classic. Something iconic. I heard that famous Holland-Dozier-Holland rhythm. Gladys Knight? The Marvelettes?! A-ha! It was The Supremes, "My World Is Empty Without You"! Of course! We both loved this tune. I'd even gone fishing once with a few of the remaining The Funk Brothers up in Woodstock. I knew if baby was playing this song it meant I had to get out of bed and go downstairs to be with her. She had gone to sleep long before I did the night before. I stayed up late smoking R & J Hill's with the locals. She probably wanted to know what had happened to the case of Taittinger.
Back home I'd instructed our cleaning lady, Vienna, to line the birdcages with whatever newspapers came over the weekend; Financial Times, The Journal, The Times, The Observer, whatever. I liked the idea of our two budgies shitting on the Financial Times while we were in Maui. It just felt right. Vienna was good. She had the keys to everything and her own debit card linked to my account in case of emergencies. We trusted Vienna with our world. So when the phone rang in Maui I knew it was bad. "Honey", she said in that sugary voice, "Vienna is on the phone. She sounds confused". I didn't even know we had a phone in the Maui house. I'd never heard it ring. We had two red Dobermann's as doorbells and that’s all we really needed.
"Hello, Vienna. What's up?", I didn't give her the Hollywood "this had better be good", because I knew it was. Vienna would never call otherwise.
And that's when it all came crashing.
30 March 2008
My mother loved it so she said
sad eyed pearl and drop lips
glancing pierce through writer man
spoke hushed and frailing hips
her old eyes skim in creasing lids
a tear falls as she describes
approaching death with a yearning heart
with pride and no despise
Hot tears flow as she recounts
her favourite worded token
forgive me please for hurting so
don't go away heartbroken no
don't go away heartbroken no
Just wise owl tones no velvet lies
crush her velvet call
oh Marlene suffer all the fools
who write you on the wall
and hold your tongue about your life
or dead hands will change the plot
will make your loving sound like snakes
like you were never hot
Hot tears flow as she recounts
her favourite worded token
forgive me please for hurting so
don't go away heartbroken no
don't go away heartbroken no
My mother loved it so she said
sad eyed pearl and drop lips yeah
glancing pierce through writer man
spoke hushed and frailing lips yeah
old eyes skim in creasing lids
a tear falls as she describes
approaching death with a yearning heart
with pride and no despise
Hot tears flow as she recounts
her favourite worded token
forgive me please for hurting so
don't go away heartbroken no
Read More
sad eyed pearl and drop lips
glancing pierce through writer man
spoke hushed and frailing hips
her old eyes skim in creasing lids
a tear falls as she describes
approaching death with a yearning heart
with pride and no despise
Hot tears flow as she recounts
her favourite worded token
forgive me please for hurting so
don't go away heartbroken no
don't go away heartbroken no
Just wise owl tones no velvet lies
crush her velvet call
oh Marlene suffer all the fools
who write you on the wall
and hold your tongue about your life
or dead hands will change the plot
will make your loving sound like snakes
like you were never hot
Hot tears flow as she recounts
her favourite worded token
forgive me please for hurting so
don't go away heartbroken no
don't go away heartbroken no
My mother loved it so she said
sad eyed pearl and drop lips yeah
glancing pierce through writer man
spoke hushed and frailing lips yeah
old eyes skim in creasing lids
a tear falls as she describes
approaching death with a yearning heart
with pride and no despise
Hot tears flow as she recounts
her favourite worded token
forgive me please for hurting so
don't go away heartbroken no
28 March 2008
Her name was Swearingen...
I met her in a wine bar in Budapest. Truth be told I was looking for a talented Spanish or Argentinean wine to bring back to the Corinthia Grand. Funny place to look though, Hungary. I had the Danube to my left. That was my only landmark. My hotel was on the Buda side, knew that much. I met Swearingen on Pest side. But we'll get to that later on. But I suppose before we move on I should mention Andrassy Boulevard, whats left of it anyway. Unfortunately the nazi's destroyed most of Budapest. The Hungarians love a good floodlight. Budapest after dark is breathtaking. Or maybe it was Swearingen's hips. Either way, something was stealing my breath and I searched for a place to rest my head until I got it sorted. It'd be a little while until Swearingen found her way from the Matyas
I'm sitting in this disgustingly adorable little tapas cafe on Andrassy, rolling my eyes because the couple sitting next to me are passionately discussing altars and pulpits made by Bosnian Franciscan monks in the 17th century. I'm nursing my second American coffee waiting for Swearingen to saunter through that door like a length of billowing silk. She'll walk in the door and her spirit will trail behind her. She'll be right in front of me, seated, holding my hands to warm hers all the while her sugary aura is still flowing through the door and rushing up to meet her body like a startled remora. I'd have my head down and I'd listen every time the door would open but I never looked up. I never had to. I only looked up once because that time I knew it was her. It was as if I could feel her soul entering my atmosphere. Just me and Swearingen at this disgustingly adorable little tapas cafe on Andrassy.
We shared her last Djarum Black, and with the Danube to our left we pulled up our wool collars and walked blindly into the Hungarian night. I had a bottle of Argentinean red under my right arm with my right hand in my pocket I was fiddling with some coins. They felt like American coins. I was trying to trace the faces on the coin with my index finger. I thought I felt Thomas Jefferson's ponytail but I wasn't sure. I flipped it over and tried to see if I could make out his Virginian estate, Monticello. This took serious concentration.
Swearingen lead the way. She was spirited and happy. We hadn't seen each other in quite some time and for once I knew where the night was going and it felt good. All I wanted to do was lay down with the billowing blinds, open up a bottle of Leonard Cohen and put on my Argentinean Malbec 45's.
I just got out of a very dismal meeting at Company B. Seems a lot of people are about to get screwed, on both sides.
The short end of it is Company A and B are, for all intents and purposes, combining. Most people will surely fall overboard. For the others there is hope but its tainted and complicated.
Company A has been running just fine with their current headcount. Therefore anyone who lands a gig at Company A will be shoving someone else out. Company A doesn't need any new staff. They'd like to take the best from both sides and call it a day. I believe Black Flag called it 'The Process of Weeding Out' but they may've been referring to something else.
Company A also thinks everyone here at company B is overpaid. Therefore we should expect "comparable" but not "matched" offers from Company A. That was enlightening and depressing all in one breath.
OK, so here are the rules:
If we turn down said offer from Company A we get nothing; no pro rata bonus, no severance, no parting gifts, no membership to the steak sauce of the month club, etc. We forfeit it all if we turn down their offer.
If we are let go we get the lion's share: bonuses galore, severance, unused vacation days paid and if necessary we'd be immediately eligible for unemployment.
And so here is the dilemma:
With the job market completely flooded right now I'd obviously rather not lose my job however I might stand to make more money in the short term off my severance and goodbye pay than I would from the new job's potential salary.
And so do I go in there and sell myself and "knock 'em dead" just to land the inevitably shitty offer? Do I go in there and sell myself for a gig I know I'm overqualified for but in their eyes overpaid for?
Or do I go in there with a giant ketchup stain on my shirt, send text messages during the interview and act like I couldn't give a fuck hoping they'll turn me down (and thus letting me go) so I can get all my parting gifts, bonuses and steak sauce?
Then again Peter went in there like he didn't give a fuck and he got promoted...
Meanwhile, back at the ranch:
10 resumes a day, no takers: A mortgage underwriter saw the writing on the wall and started looking for a new job in November. Now out of work, he's trying to get his foot back in the door of a financial firm. {CNN MONEY}
Separation of Church and Steak
"Smith & Wollensky is embarking on a new national campaign to promote the restaurant's nine high end steak houses. Scored by the glorious 'Credo' of Johan Sebastian Bach's Mass in B Minor, this nearly wordless 30 second commercial presents rapid fire images of the complete Wollensky experience -- the waiters, the food, the customers, the works. It's wrapped up by a concluding line, "If steak were a religion, this would be its cathedral."
This is my new favourite commercial. It is so fucking retarded that it's actually amazing. But when I first saw it I didn't realise just how brilliant it was, I just knew something had caught my attention and drawn me to it; something about it was intriguing, if not downright hypnotic!
It's meat, its sanguine, its read, its fire and flame, its devil-may-care greed and decadence and just... its... its... its HELL!
Its basically a subconscious-laden commercial about hell and living it up in hell and not giving a fuck about anything. Pay close attention to the colours - if you don't your subconscious will - it's crimson, deep mahogany browns, golds, crisp whites, dark hunter greens along with cackling faces, the supposition of disposable wealth and absolute power... It's lust, gluttony, greed, sloth, wrath, envy and pride all within 30 immaculate seconds. I would not be the least bit surprised if Scorsese had ghost-produced this commercial.
This commercial should seriously be studied in advertising schools and psychology classes. Theres a lot of subliminal shit in here, too. An oil painting of a patriotic cherub flashes at one point... is that Israfil? the angel responsible for signalling the coming of Judgment Day by blowing a horn and sending out a Blast of Truth?
From the choral music to the idiots dining there to the admittedly brilliant "If Steak Were A Religion, This Would Be Its Cathedral" tagline...
But my most favourite part is the cherry on top, the waiter at the end, the demonic grim reaper, the devil himself: "Nice t'see y'again". Like welcome back to hell, we know who you are, you're a well-known member around here and we've been awaiting your arrival. Sound the trumpets.
God, I could watch this all day. It's that good. A brilliant commercial.
And that's a lot coming from a vegetarian.
It's on the homepage here, check it out. It's seriously addictive. I'd love to know who directed it and what the proposal and concept was behind it. I guarantee it had something to do with the seven deadly sins.
But my most favourite part is the cherry on top, the waiter at the end, the demonic grim reaper, the devil himself: "Nice t'see y'again". Like welcome back to hell, we know who you are, you're a well-known member around here and we've been awaiting your arrival. Sound the trumpets.
God, I could watch this all day. It's that good. A brilliant commercial.
And that's a lot coming from a vegetarian.
It's on the homepage here, check it out. It's seriously addictive. I'd love to know who directed it and what the proposal and concept was behind it. I guarantee it had something to do with the seven deadly sins.
Read More
Greatest. Term. Ever.
Blue·tool: A person who wears a Bluetooth wireless earpiece everywhere they go to seem important.
Places to spot Bluetools include movie theaters, malls, restaurants, gyms, grocery stores and cars.
"Fearful Staff Sell Off Their Bear Stearns Mementos"
I love/hate the way the press is spinning this. They're having an actual field day with the concept of 6 figure salary iBankers auctioning shit off on eBay.
Yes, I can appreciate the large print irony there but employees aren't auctioning this shit off because they're broke. They're auctioning it off because there's a market for it right now. Supply & demand, thats business school 101, is it not? I know this and I didn't even go to business school. I just watched a lot of television.
A bunch of homers in Madison, Wisconsin watchin MSNBC dreaming about them big ol buildins in the big city will pay $300 for some otherwise worthless and disposable promotional crap emblazoned with the logo of a big firm in the news right now and therefore people who have it are selling it.
Does the press truly think an iBanker is trying to recoup some of his or her losses by selling golf umbrellas on eBay for $48 a pop? C'mon now ladies and gentlemen of the press let's start coming up with some better ideas here. You're getting soft; resting on your laurels. Let's write some real articles, Ok? Ready? Go!
The Party's Over
Bear Stearns' Chairman sells over $60M in stock, dumps his entire stake in the investment bank (5.6 million shares) a day after JPMorgan quintuples its bid.
Read More27 March 2008
FDA Probes Merck Drug, Possible Suicides
The Food and Drug Administration said Thursday it is investigating a possible link between Merck's best-selling Singulair and suicide. FDA said it is reviewing a handful of reports involving mood changes, suicidal behavior and suicide in patients who have taken the popular allergy and asthma drug.
MSG Backs Out of Plan to Move into Renovated Penn Station
Madison Square Garden has derailed the ambitious, $14 billion plan to renovate Penn Station and redevelop the drab neighborhood around it by backing out of negotiations to move the sports arena one block away to a landmark post office. MSG said it would move forward with plans announced years ago to renovate its existing arena, which sits over the nation's busiest train station and is home to the New York Rangers and the New York Knicks.
World's Oldest Voice Recording Uncovered, 17 Years Before Thomas Edison's "First"
The haunted warble of a French folk song nearly 148 years ago is the oldest recording of the human voice.
And it was made a whole 17 years before Thomas Edison made his historic message, "Mary Had a Little Lamb" on a phonograph, which is the landmark event in the history of recorded sound.
The 10-second recording was made by a Parisian inventor, Edouard-Leon Scott de Martinville on April 9 1860, when Emperor Napoleon III, the last monarch of France, was on the throne.
Scott de Martinville's gadget, a "phonautograph", was a device that scratched sound waves onto a sheet of paper blackened by the smoke from an oil lamp. Edison's breakthrough, in 1877, was based on tinfoil wrapped around a cylinder. The foil was indented by a stylus which moved in response to vibrations from a mouthpiece.
Unlike Edison, whose great achievement was to not only record but also play back the recording, Scott de Martinville was never able to hear what was traced on the smoked paper.
It took 21st-century technology and the diligence of a team of US audio historians, recording engineers and scientists, using digital imaging to track the tiny groove in the paper, to make his dream come true.
The initiative was supported by First Sounds, a collaborative US project aimed at resurrecting long-lost early recordings.
The recording, comprising a snippet of the song "Au clair de la lune," can be heard here via mp3.
The past ten days will be remembered as the time the American government threw out a half century of rules to save capitalism from collapsing, but don't worry about all that now, we'll get to that later on.
Let's start with the very basics. The main characters. OK, so it was me, Fidich, Slovak and a cat we called Gozirra. Gozirra was a grandmaster; a world-class chess champion but he was dumb as a stone when it came to real life functions. His girlfriend was Nona.
Nona had his Velvet Underground opium den Nico thing going on. That was her vibe. Had a cat named Clair De Lune. That was her fantasy. I didn't like cats because I was allergic. Anyway, Nona's parents were rich from some pharmaceutical biotech stuff in Switzerland that she never wanted to talk about. I doubt it was anything all that bad but nevertheless it was a very sore subject. Then again who the fuck would wanna talk about generic trans dermal drug delivery technologies in a well-appointed loft overlooking West Broadway? Slovak, thats who.
OK, so now it was me, Fidich, Slovak, Gozirra and his girl Nona. So Slovak starts carrying on about some article he read, or I should say found, lining the floor of a toilet stall in Charles de Gaulle in Paris. He said the article mentioned Nona's parents and their company. Nona starts freaking out. She was boiling tea at the time and it had just about come to boil and was starting to whistle. The more Slovak carried on and on about this article the more Nona started to shake. And the build up of the kettle on the stove and Slovak's voice raising and Nona yelling "No! No! No!" was making the entire loft tremble. Nona started turning up the range so that the kettle whistled even louder. It was all happening really fast now. Building to a crescendo. But it kept going and going the whistle got louder and louder and higher and higher and the steam was billowing out, hot water was clamping the blue flame in that famous orange stove sizzle. It smelled like wine and steam and smoke. Nona was crying, trembling. Gozirra just paced in the living room. Slovak was screaming now "I know all about it, Nona. I know about Angers and, Avignon! I know about Bordeaux and Dijon, Grenoble, Le Mans, Lille, Lyon and Marseille. I know what happened in Montpellier. I read about the explosion in Nantes and the little girl in Nîmes. I know all about it. Poitiers, Rennes, Strasbourg, Toulouse, Tours, Valence, its all right here, Nona..."
Then my alarm clock rang and it was time for work.
You know it's bad when co-workers start listing their convertible Corvettes for sale on the internal classifieds...
Read MoreProtesters Enter Bear Stearns Lobby, Demand Meeting With Dimon, But He's Across The Street
Everything Thats Wrong With America In One Photo
Girl who is famous for having a big ass goes shopping for light bulbs at Rite Aid and the paparazzi follows.
Goodhearted dominatrix Mistress Victoria X doesn't have a soft spot towards the newly unrich men of Bear Stearns; it's more mercenary compassion. For a limited time, she's offering a per-hour discount equivalent to JPMorgan Chase's current offer for their stock: $10.
Read More26 March 2008
At Which Point Do We Begin To Consider Socialism?
Housing advocates protest Bear Stearns bailout
Demonstrators say government needs to do more to help homeowners
NEW YORK - Some 200 homeowners have protested the government’s bailout of Wall Street but not Main Street.
The demonstrators, wearing yellow T-shirts with the Neighborhood Assistance Corporation of America logo, took their protest to the lobby of the struggling Bear Sterns investment bank on Wednesday.
The group’s statement said the government “continues to blame homeowners facing hard financial difficulties in making payments on mortgages that were structured to fail, while using billions of taxpayer dollars
In a government-led bailout, JPMorgan Chase this month offered to buy the struggling investment bank for a small fraction of what it was valued at a few weeks ago.
A spokesman for Bear Sterns was not immediately available for comment.
© 2008 The Associated Press.
Several hundred people are protesting in the lobby right now
To: xxxxx
From: Global Security
Re: Protest at 383 Madison Ave.
Please be advised the Neighborhood Assistance Corporation of America (NACA) is currently staging a protest around the building at 383 Madison Avenue. They are speaking out against government involvement in the JPMorgan Chase – Bear Stearns merger. There are also a number of reporters and camera crews there as well. We expect the protest to last for some time.
Coming Clean/ Blog Liner Notes
In light of everything you may have seen splattered all over the Wall Street Journal these days I may not be at this desk much longer. I still don't know for sure but I figured I may as well start packing up my stuff and dragging my 'favourite places' into an email to send home later.
I'm realising I have no idea what some of these links are (or why I've saved them) so this should be an exciting and possibly embarassing excercise. I think some may be links for stories I'd planned to do that never made it past the cutting room floor. Our editors here are tough!
So I figured why not save all the links here so you too can see what I've had stored for the past year or so while I did this blog at work. It will also shed some light on my secret sources of aggregation; you know, all the wonderful news I write about that you've grown to love and cherish; apublic spring cleaning if you will!
If the links aren't self-explanatory I'll try to give a brief description so even you can understand. Enjoy!
The New York Radio Message Board - NY radio geek HQ
Associated Press: National News via the feed from the Las Vegas Sun
Whitney Matheson's Pop Candy blog - a bona fide list nut who has been known to aggregate some serious jewels
AP Breaking News feed via some Tampa Bay website
TMZ.com - its a love/hate relationship
Professor Hex Scholar of the Strange and Mysterious - can't recall the last time I clicked on this one but I had it saved for some reason or another
The Avatars of Ganesha - no clue, must've been bulking up on my Indian gods and goddesses for Jeopardy!
wood s lot blog - Hmmm... not sure, looks like some intellectual interviews with artists and writers.
AN INTRODUCTION TO ASTROLOGY - I can't ever remember the symbols and their corresponding months
Punk & the Swastika - Fashion 1
Still Married, With Children, but in Russian - NY Times article on the Russian smash hit sitcom, "Schastlivy Vmeste" a remake of "Married With Children"
Barnes & Noble.com - Opium: The Diary of a Cure - never got around to buying this one, but xmas is 9 months away!
The Instant Art Critique Phrase Generator - this is great
random link to an old photo of a sled dog team howling - a random link to an old photo of a sled dog team howling
cassette tape culture - all sorts of cassette art and clothing, eh too ironic
The NY Inquirer - somewhat cryptic article about the Diamond District
Google image search: 'ganguro'
"Tanya Jones, Alcor's chief operating officer, holds a container that will be filled with liquid nitrogen and used to preserve a human head at minus 320 degrees Fahrenheit..."
Wikipedia's link to 'The Meeting Place Cannot Be Changed' - from research on an aborted article about this Soviet 5-part television miniseries and cult classic from 1979
Snopes.com - list of actors who have died in front of an audience, on stage or TV
Listen to Ron & Fez online - one of my all-time favourite radio shows, great for those long days when its 10:30 for about 4 hours
Through the Brooklens blog "Photographic wanderings through Brooklyn and beyond"
INSIDE RADIO - leading industry news, ratings and classifieds
Wikipedia's link to A Contract with God, and Other Tenement Stories - from research on an aborted article on the famous graphic novel/comic book by the late, great Will Eisner
igourmet link to truffle honey - which is great drizzled on cheese
"Why aren't radio stations allowed to say "Super Bowl" on the air?"
"We Are Family"
The New England Historic Genealogical Society has found a link between Barack Obama and Brad Pitt, and Hillary Clinton and Angelina Jolie.
According to the organisation, Pitt and Obama are ninth cousins, linked by a man named Edwin Hickman, who died in Virginia in 1769. Clinton and Jolie are also ninth cousins, twice removed, who are both related to a Jean Cusson who died in St. Sulpice, Quebec, in 1718. A spokesman for the Obama campaign declined to comment on the senator's ancestry because he is also related and didn't wanna talk shit about his family.
According to the report Hillary Clinton, who is of French Canadian descent on her mother's side, is also a distant cousin of Madonna, Celine Dion and Alanis Morrissette.
While Obama, the son of a white woman from Kansas and a black man from Kenya, can call six U.S. presidents, including George W. Bush, his cousins.
Genealogists say that while many candidates spend time pointing out the differences between them, their ancestry shows they are more alike than they think.
Obama is also distantly linked to Winston Churchill, Civil War General Robert E. Lee, and Vice President Dick Cheney.
Founded in 1845, The New England Historic Genealogical Society is the largest and oldest nonprofit genealogical organisation in the country.
Uh, yeah.
25 March 2008
New Twist In Linda Stein Murder Case
Ron Kuby, the lawyer for the girl charged in the murder of multimillionaire real estate agent & ex-Ramones manager Linda Stein, says the medical examiner issued a new report stating a male's blood was found mixed with Stein's blood. Stein was found in a pool of blood inside her $3 million Fifth Avenue apt. on Oct. 30. Her assistant, Natavia Lowery, was charged with her murder.
Read all past articles on Stein
Can I Have Some More Of What You've Got?
She used to stand at the window of an office in the The Helmsley Building and watch the lights all change together at night down Park Avenue and down Park Avenue she swam like a dolphin in the simple synchronicity of this beautiful city. This beautiful city, tried and tested. The Dowager Queen of Terminal City. She walks barefoot among such imperial grandeur. Marble walls with bronze detail and with bronze detail she craves the Coney Island sand between her lavender toes. Her lavender toes scrunch in her shoes as she watches the floors inside the Chinese Red elevator doors open into cabs with crimson walls, mahogany moldings, gift domes, and painted cloudscapes she dreams in buckets, in gallons, in soft elegant strokes.
Some people watch paint dry. Some people watch bananas turn brown. Yeah, I knew a guy who did that. Put it as his job description. "Watching bananas turn brown", he wrote exactly that. Saw it myself. His boss needed a banana everyday and it was this man's job to make sure his boss got said banana. I don't think his boss ever even ate the yellow fruit, it just became a thing. It was the point, I guess. Kinda like Van Halen and the brown M&M's...
People assumed it was because Van Halen were a bunch of prima donnas – and surely they were but not because of the brown M&M's – the bowl of brown M&M's was actually to make sure concert promoters were paying attention to detail.
They added "a bowl of only brown M&M's" to their contract rider in the middle of several pages of serious and detailed lighting & sound specs for their show. So if there wasn't a bowl of dirt coloured M&M's waiting for them backstage the band would know the promoters hadn't paid attention to the other important info and glossed over their contract rider. It was brilliant, actually.
Some bands I know asked for socks and batteries. We asked for stamps sometimes–back in the old days when people still sent letters and postcards. I used to get a local paper. I loved reading a local paper backstage. I did it maybe once or twice.
Nowadays, to pass the time, I thread needles – sometimes with the lights on, sometimes with the lights off. I find it very relaxing. And plus I need to keep my eyesight sharp, y’know? My father used to get mad at me for reading in the dark. I think they call it “painting in a cave”. I don’t know.
I can't get “So give me coffee and tv…history” out of my head now. But anyway, I'll only thread navy thread through a needle. I don't work with any other colours. It's a great patience exercise without getting all Zen and ethereal.
I spent the weekend trying to calculate my severance pay. Been with this firm for fifteen years but I’ve always lived within my means so I’ll be all right. I’ve driven the same Subaru Forester for the past ten years. So I’ll be OK. Just need to get some new suits so I can go on some interviews. Something navy, pinstriped and bespoke.
"I haven't watered that plant in days", he said.
"I'm not too good with plants. I kill them", she said, laughing nervously but dejected.
My tailor, Leo, is actually a part of that Society for Creative Anachronism thing. Its a club, a cult that recreates pre-17th century Western European history and culture. Like those guys reenact the Civil War, these guys spend their weekends reenacting the breakup of the Carolingian empire. It's a real hoot but sometimes it gets in the way, to be totally honest.
Sometimes it's Tuesday afternoon and I have a dinner meeting and I've got a hole in my trousers and Leo's in Ontario reenacting the Crusades and reading from the Toggenburg Bible by the light of a flickering torch. Yeah, I know what you are thinking, and yes, I do need to find a new tailor.
24 March 2008
'BEAR MAY HAVE LIVED'
By PAUL THARP and ZACHERY KOUWE
A FATE MARTS CAN'T BEAR
BERNANKE'S DECISIVE ACTION SAVED BILLIONS
By DAVID NELSON
Do you feel like a chain store? Practically floored
One of many zeros, kicked around bored
Your ears are full but you're empty
Holding out your heart to people who never really care how you are
So give me coffee and tv
History
I've seen so much I'm goin blind
And I'm braindead virtually
Sociability its hard enough for me
Take me away form this big bad world and agree to marry me
So we can start all over again
Do you go to the country
It isnt very far
There's people there who will hurt you
Cos of who you are
Your ears are full of the language
Theres wisdom there you're sure
til the words start slurring
And you can't find the door
So give me coffee and tv
History
I've seen so much I'm goin blind
And I'm braindead virtually
Sociability its hard enough for me
Take me away form this big bad world
And agree to marry me
So we can start all over again
So give me coffee and tv
History
I've seen so much I'm goin blind
And I'm braindead virtually
Sociability
Its hard enough for me
Take me away form this big bad world
And agree to marry me
So we can start all over again
Oh...we could start over again
Oh...we could start over again
Oh...we could start over again
Oh...we could start over again
Will You Just Shut The Fuck Up About The Barcelona Chairs Already?
My Lunch at Bear Stearns
The investment bank may be worth only $2 a share, but it still has an amazing salad bar.
By Dana Vachon for Slate
Preparing a long overdue article on why video games like Rock Band and Wii Sports are the harbingers of a dichotomic downfall of mankind.
Be back soon...
23 March 2008
Bear Stearns staff auction off teddies, T-shirts, memorabilia on eBay
Search 'Bear Stearns' on eBay
WASHINGTON (AFP) — Bear Stearns' go-getting investment bankers used to chase million-dollar deals, but staff at the now hard up Wall Street bank have resorted to auctioning off Bear Stearns-branded memorabilia to raise funds.
Bear Stearns workers have put a range of mementos up for sale online at eBay in recent days following the rapid demise of one of America's largest investment banks which fell victim to a credit crunch sweeping the financial markets.
"Be the first to get your paws on classic Bear Stearns memorabilia," touts the description for one of several stuffed toy bears on sale at a bargain 5.50 dollars.
"Do not delay -- bail a Bear out today!" the ad urges, adding that the first bear purchased comes with a free New York skyscraper worth around one billion dollars, depending on availability.
Bear Stearns agreed to sell itself last Sunday to JPMorgan Chase for a paltry 236 million dollars, after rival banks stopped trading with it, in a deal that shocked many Wall Street veterans.
The takeover deal included Bear Stearns' corporate headquarters which analysts believe is worth about one billion dollars.
Many of the bank's 14,000 staff are expected to lose their jobs as a result of its downfall, and the ad for the toy bear warned that potential purchasers would have to pay up front.
Other collectibles being touted include white T-shirts emblazoned with:"I invested my life savings in Bear Stearns and all I have left is this lousy t-shirt."
A medium-sized T-shirt can be bought for 17.99 dollars, a Bear Stearns' cafeteria card is offered for sale at a mere 11 cents, and a bank identification card holder can be snapped up for just one cent.
Budding bankers meanwhile might be tempted to rifle through their small change for one of the last Global Equity Research reports issued by Bear Stearns, also priced at a tempting one cent.
The report, dated March 12, offers insights into the weak dollar, skyhigh crude oil prices and possible future tax hikes.
Wall Street treasure hunters can also shop online for Bear Stearns-branded bags, fleece jackets, golfing jackets, towels and corporate posters among other items.
22 March 2008
20 March 2008
Stocks Tumble Again, but Some Traders Win Big
Stocks jump after prior day’s big drop--- Investors take advantage of bargains amid good earnings
Dimon Offers Bear Stearns Bankers Stock, Cash to Stay
Bear investors may seek better dealtemplate_bastemplate_bas - A shareholder holdout against JPMorgan's $340-million bid is possible.
British billionaire Joseph Lewis hints he may seek to block takeover
Joe Lewis, who has suffered huge losses on his stake in Bear Stearns Cos., hinted in a securities filing that he may try to round up other investors to torpedo the firm's proposed takeover by J.P. Morgan Chase & Co… In the filing yesterday, Mr. Lewis also disclosed that he bought more shares of Bear shortly before its collapse. On March 13, just before J.P. Morgan and the Federal Reserve stepped in to keep Bear afloat, an entity affiliated with Mr. Lewis bought 569,000 shares of Bear Stearns at $55.13
Bear's Run-Up Sets the Stage For Epic Clash
'Paltry' Packages for Bear Executives
China's Citic Securities Co. dropped plans for a $1 billion cross-investment with Bear Stearns Cos. after J.P. Morgan Chase & Co.'s deal to take over Bear…
Bear Stearns Prepares To Lawyer Up
Insisting that nothing was wrong one day, only for everything to go wrong the next, despite its insistence it was telling the truth throughout,the once-mighty Wall Street firm is readying itself for lawsuits.
Bear Stearns' Cayne, holder seek rival bid
Bear Chairman James Cayne and top shareholder Joe Lewis are quietly searching for a bidder that would top the offer from JPMorgan Chase & Co (JPM.N: Quote, Profile, Research), the New York Post reported on Wednesday. Cayne and Lewis have contacted private equity firms, including J.C. Flowers and Kohlberg Kravis Roberts & Co as well as overseas banks Barclays, HSBC, Credit Suisse and Royal Bank of Scotland. Cayne and Lewis combined hold nearly 15 % of the stock of cash-strapped Bear Stearns. The all-stock offer from JP Morgan values Bear Stearns at about $280 million, compared to its valuation of $7.7 billion a week ago.
JPMorgan aiming to keep best Bear execs
JPMorgan Chase Chief Executive James Dimon visited Bear Stearns' offices on Wednesday evening to speak to more than 400 senior executives, according to reports in the New York Times and Financial Times. The New York Times said Dimon made it clear that he hoped to retain the best employees at Bear, but also made it plain many of the 14,000 employees would lose their jobs if his bank completes a deal to buy Bear Stearns for $2 a share. The Financial Times reported JPMorgan is moving swiftly to retain Bear's top performing bankers and brokers and is preparing to deliver retention package offers for top employees as soon as Thursday, citing people close to the situation. The FT said the move comes as JPMorgan's rivals, such as Morgan Stanley have begun making efforts to pick off top Bear brokers with large bonus offers.
The fallout at Bear Stearns: Sore heads- Disaster yields disbelief—and disgruntlement
Weird Scenes Inside the Gold Mine...
Some unrelated financial news for the first time in a while... Pardon the poor taste but where do you get off naming your daughter Nixzmary?! Is that Pig Latin by chance? Leonard Lauder, Estee Lauder, Clinique, MAC, Aveda, Bobbi Brown and Stila Chairman of the Board has peeled off $131 million for the struggling Whitney Museum. Lauder's donation is expected to encourage other rich white men to donate, perhaps giving the Whit the financial support it needs to carry on... Two 19-year-olds who somehow work together at a bar on Bleecker Street (maybe its a milk bar?) were hanging out when dudebro #1 passed out. Dudebro #2 decided to strip dudebro #1 down to his boxers and spray paint him blue. Yeah, well dudebro #1 never woke up. Yeah, my man died. Dudebro #2 has not been charged with any crime, but the OCME will be conducting a Smurf autopsy today.... Uh oh, Channel 4 news anchor Darlene Rodriguez' husband, a Sergeant with the New Rochelle police has been charged with first degree rape of a 17-year-old girl. Investigators said the girl described that Rodriguez's pubic hair was shaved. Nasty. New Rochelle police, executing a search warrant that forced Sgt. David Rodriguez to drop his pants, found that the cop's pubic area is in fact shaved - just as the girl had told investigators. Darlene Rodriguez, co-anchor of the early-morning "Today in New York" show - has been suspended with pay. She has three children with her husband... Oh and yesterday I rode the N which – running on the D line – back into Brooklyn with Larry Kirwan of Black 47.
Read More
What U Know Bout Nas?
Aside from Cormega, Lakey The Kid and Primo, what ever became of all these dudes he shouted out on the end of "Represent" on illmatic...?
“To my man, Big Will he's still here... The 40 side of Vernon... My man L.E.S.... Big Cee-Lo from the Don... Shawn Penn, the 40 busters.... My crew the shorty busters.... The 41st side of Vernon posse....The Goodfellas ..... My man Cormega, Lakey The Kid.... Can't forget Drawers, the Hillbillies.... My man Slate, Wallethead, Black Jay, Big Oogie.... Crazy barrio spot (Big Doug)... We rock shit, Ph.D.... And my man Primo, from GangStarr ('94 real shit y'all, Harry O!) ”
18 March 2008
In case you've been wondering, I've relocated most of my manic daily pondering over to Bay Ridge Talk for the time being. My team of overpaid psychiatrists suggested I try playing nicely within a group.
Read MoreDelta offers to buy out 30,000 workers...
and we're still afraid to say the "R" word??!?!
Delta Air Lines just announced it will offer voluntary severance payouts to roughly 30,000 employees!!!!!!!! - more than half its work force - and cut domestic capacity by an extra 5% this year as part of an overhaul of its business plan to deal with soaring fuel prices. Oh boy, here we go.
Executives at Atlanta-based Delta said in a memo to employees that the airline's goal is to cut 2,000 frontline, administrative and management jobs through the voluntary program, attrition and other initiatives.
A spokeswoman says that if more than that amount agree to take the voluntary severance, it will be allowed. The severance program primarily affects mainline Delta employees. It will not affect Delta pilots, who have a union contract with the company, and employees at Delta regional carrier Comair, which is based in Erlanger, Ky.
Delta had 55,044 total full-time employees as of the end of last year. The memo from CEO Richard Anderson and President Ed Bastian did not mention Delta's talks with Northwest Airlines Corp. about a combination that would create the world's largest airline. Bastian was updating investors Tuesday at a conference in New York.
All this as oil prices recently cracked $111 a barrel, nearly twice what prices were a year ago.
In recent weeks, abundant evidence has pointed to a recession—a broad-based contraction of economic activity—from rising unemployment claims to the continued pain in housing. Wall Street economists, whose employers have been experiencing their own private recession since last summer, haven't shrunk from using the R word. But in certain quarters of Washington, euphemism and understatement, verging on outright denial, are par for the course. In an episode of the hit 1970s show Happy Days, Fonzie, laboring to concede error, repeatedly choked on the word wrong, unable to get past the "rrr" sound. (Trust me, it was funny.) In last year's hit comedy Knocked Up, a character, queasy about using the technical term for terminating a pregnancy, refers to a procedure that "rhymes with shmashmortion." Bernanke and the man who appointed him, President Bush, are clearly coping with similar verbal tics. Call it a slowdown, cite challenges, or insist the fundamentals are sound. But please don't call it a recession. Speaking at a press conference on Thursday, Bush said, "I don't think we're headed to recession, but no question we're in a slowdown."
Recessions are unspeakable for several reasons. Many have come to believe (erroneously) that central bankers and executives, by deploying information technology and superior management, have engineered the business cycle out of existence. In addition, the impact of a contraction is so ghastly as to spur denial. For any debt-laden entity—a consumer, a company, a government—a decline in revenues can have a very swift and painful impact. (Think about how soon you'd be begging for debt forbearance if your salary fell 10 percent tomorrow.) For a president, it is political poison to admit that an economic event that rhymes with shmashmession could be within the realm of possibility. Since recessions sap tax revenues, they tend to make huge deficits—like the $407 billion whopper projected for this fiscal year—even larger. And so, while the Blue Chip Economic Forecast in February cut its estimate for 2008 growth to 1.7 percent, the Office of Management and Budget is sticking to its optimistic forecast of 2.7 percent—nearly 50% higher.
But much as central bankers, investors, and politicians would like to wish it away, the business cycle is like Madonna—one of those phenomena that just won't leave the stage. The laws of physics still apply to the U.S. economy. And as a troubling bit of data from one of the last remaining hot sectors released last week shows, the gravitational pull of a falling economy can bring even the most powerful commercial force known to man crashing to earth.
Since its birth, Google has been in a perpetual growth spurt, posting insanely impressive metrics of all sorts—from its share of Internet searches to profits. But last week, the Internet ratings firm comScore reported that Google's paid clicks—the number of times Web surfers clicked on ads served up with a search—fell 0.3 percent between January 2007 and January 2008, even as the number of searches rose 40 percent in the same period. As recently as August, Google's ad clicks were rising at a 60 percent clip. Google's click-through rate—the percentage of ads that get clicked on, and hence a measure of consumer follow-through on searches—was also down sharply in January.
These numbers tell us something troubling about Google, and about the economy at large. Google became the Net's 800-pound gorilla by defying underlying growth trends of the larger commercial universe. But now, says Andy Kessler, a Silicon Valley hedge-fund manager turned author, "Google is big enough to be affected by cyclical economic forces." Since it peaked at $747 last November, Google's do-no-evil stock has plummeted 37 percent, erasing $86 billion in value.
Like other media companies and retailers that depended on housing and consumer-related business, Google seems to be suffering from the consequences of declining activity. (These things are notoriously difficult to quantify, but my unscientific tally is that 75.196 percent of all Internet ads are for home-equity lines of credit and mortgages.) If the economy is grinding to a halt, one would expect clicks of all categories to decline. "Search may be the best advertising medium in the history of the world," says Internet analyst and Slate contributor Henry Blodget. "But that doesn't help much when searchers are broke."
If even Google is showing a decline of economic activity in a big chunk of its domain, it can mean only one thing: We're in the portion of the economic cycle that rhymes with confession.
17 March 2008
Let's Just Print More Money! Woo!
Financial market crises often end with a final, cataclysmic event — a rush of panic selling of stocks or a sudden drop in a currency's value. With the stunning collapse of Bear over the weekend, many investors are asking themselves: Is this the final upheaval in the earthquake that has been building since the capital markets first started shuddering last August? The answer, and a major reason for the turmoil in the first place, is that no one — not even Fed or Treasury officials — has any idea.
Until Bear Stearns began to unravel Friday, the financial market had been focused on the Fed’s regular interest rate-setting meeting Tuesday. Most expected the central bank to cut the short-term rates again; opinion was divided between a half or three-quarters of a percentage point.
“What we're in here is the closest thing we've seen to a bank panic since the Depression,” said Senate Banking Committee Chairman Charles Schumer. “It's with investment banks, it's with larger investors. But it's the exact same thing. Confidence is so important. The quality of the asset matters less than confidence, and hopefully this move will restore confidence when it comes to some of these other firms."
Now forecasters have all but thrown up their hands trying to predict what the Fed will do tmrw. Given the tumultuous environment, many expect the central bank to slash the benchmark overnight lending rate by a full percentage point, to 2%, less than half the 5.25% level when the Fed began cutting rates last June.
Some investors worry that the Fed’s aggressive efforts to pump tens of billions of dollars into the financial system comes with a hefty price — higher inflation and a weaker dollar.
To make matters worse, the turmoil shaking the global credit markets is not about the cost of money. Banks have cash, and if they need more they can borrow it cheaply from the Fed. The problem is that, after watching assets backed by mortgages melt away, banks are afraid to lend.
Some observers see the dramatic collapse of Bear Stearns as a sign that the worst may be over. Sacrificial lamb much?
Sure, once the fear is alleviated, liquidity will come back into the markets but no one knows when that’ll be. The reason is that much of the distressed debt at the source of the credit meltdown is held outside of the view of regulators and investors in the global credit market — the banks, investment firms, pension funds, insurance companies and others who swap trillions of dollars worth of debt every day.
What’s got them all spooked is a relatively new form of debt securities based on highly complex transactions used to offset the risk of borrowing. Those pieces of paper turn out to be difficult to price under the best of circumstances.
With home prices falling, and billions of dollars of paper backed by mortgages at risk of default, the biggest unknown is tied to the million of loans scheduled to reset to higher rates that many homeowners will be unable to keep up with. So until the housing market shows some signs of stabilizing, it’s all but impossible to know how much more money will be lost from mortgage defaults.
Fed officials are hoping to overcome the breakdown in confidence by making money cheap —and offering to lend to whoever need its. In guaranteeing the credit line that JPMorgan used to back Bear Stearns obligations, the Fed crossed a line that has historically walled off the tightly regulated banking industry from the far more risky securities business.
But hey, what the fuck do I know?
The St. Patrick’s Day Massacre
Large print poetry like crutches in the trash; as subtle as a jackhammer in the street on Sunday morning. The somber shrill of bagpipes. A funeral for the firm masquerading as a parade for out-of-town amateurs to dress up in green and get loaded in the big city.
The storied bank founded by three guys with $500,000 back in 1923 survived the Great Depression, insider trading, the dot-com bubble and countless recessions but it couldn’t weather the perfect storm: the collapse of the subprime mortgage market and subsequent evaporation of client confidence. Mix that with a few self-fulfilling prophecies, the toxicity of rumour, a pinch of panic and what you’ve got is a good, old fashioned ‘run on the bank’.
The last of the independents. The punk rock firm. I waltzed right off a tour bus and into a suit. I felt at home here. Even the CEO at the time hadn’t graduated college. It was entrepreneurs over mathematicians. It was passion over brains. Experience through risk and chance. The head guys were poker addicts for crying out loud.
One of the largest global investment banks, securities trading and brokerage firms in the world bought for a song. Not even the sum of all its parts. We could’ve pawned all our flat screen monitors and come up with more than what they paid.
At 1.2 million-square-feet, our global headquarters alone is worth about $1.2B, based on the average $1,000 per-square- foot that comparable office space in the city is currently fetching... yet we were bought out for $240M. No choice. Beggars can’t be choosers.
Imagine someone telling you every $100 bill you had in your wallet was now worth 2 cents. Imagine your retirement pile going from a few million to a few hundred thousand overnight.
New York City, Atlanta; Boston, Chicago, Dallas, Denver, Houston, Los Angeles, Irvine, San Francisco, San Juan, Whippany, New Jersey, St. Louis, London, Beijing, Dublin, Hong Kong, Lugano, Milan, São Paulo, Shanghai, Singapore, and Tokyo… for a song. Not even the price of the 45-story main office itself on Madison. Unbelievable.
“Anything I wanted was a phone call away. Free cars. The keys to a dozen hideout flats all over the city. I bet twenty, thirty grand over a weekend and then I'd either blow the winnings in a week or go to the sharks to pay back the bookies.We are now experiencing the first truly major crisis of financial globalisation. Never before have banks seen such destruction of their balance sheets in such short order. Moreover, there are signs that the problems are spreading. The risk premiums on commercial property, consumer credit and corporate loans have risen like the tides. Debt levels have been much higher than in the Roaring Twenties; the new-fangled tools of structured credit are more opaque.
Didn't matter. It didn't mean anything. When I was broke, I'd go out and rob some more. We ran everything. We paid off cops. We paid off lawyers. We paid off judges. Everybody had their hands out. Everything was for the taking. And now it's all over.
And that's the hardest part. Today everything is different; there's no action... have to wait around like everyone else. Can't even get decent food - right after I got here, I ordered some spaghetti with marinara sauce, and I got egg noodles and ketchup. I'm an average nobody... get to live the rest of my life like a schnook.”
Become a financial atheist and only put your money in the tangible. Invest in oil, gold, coffee, cocoa and sugar. Get your money out of intangible assets. It’s better off tucked underneath your Sealy Posturepedic at this point. The toppling banks are merely a symptom of a deeper rot. The banks are not the problem. Nor even the grotesquely leveraged funds. The problem is that an economic bubble financed by ridiculously loose monetary policy is unravelling and fast. Translation: Everyone is living beyond their means and trading on borrowed time and now the bubble hath burst. Investor confidence in the global financial system is on the ropes.
I walked down to Third because mozzarella is cheaper down there. I pulled out the last $10 from my $385 wallet. I said “no comment” when they stuck a mic in my face. I laughed when the unmarked in the tan trenchcoat with the golf pencil and reporter pad approached. I just let those visceral bagpipes speak for themselves. Revelry and dirge. Those rolling snare drum marching shotguns.
Back to 1923. 85 years. What a shame. Gone for a song. A joke. Embarrassing. Humiliating to the guys who built this place in the roaring 20’s.
I let my man Aldous do the talking for “After silence, that which comes nearest to expressing the inexpressible is music”. Read More
16 March 2008
Beware the Ides of March
Sigh.
Sadly if everything falls apart, like I'm hearing its going to, the news tomorrow will most certainly trump any sort of cryptically dramatic anticipation or insinuation through poetic analogy I could ever muster here.
Sucks too because these $875 Johnston & Murphy loafers sure look good.
That being said, stay tuned.
Looks like I picked the wrong week to quit amphetamines...
14 March 2008
I Was In The House When The House Burned Down
“I had the shit till it all got smoked
I kept the promise till the vow got broke
I had to drink from the lovin' cup
I stood on the banks till the river rose up
I saw the bride in her wedding gown
I was in the house when the house burned down
I may be old and I may be bent
But I had the money till it all got spent
I had the money till they made me pay
Then I had the sense to be on my way
I had to stay in the underground
I was in the house when the house burned down
I was in the house when the house burned down
I met the man with the thorny crown
I helped Him carry his cross through town
I was in the house when the house burned down
I was in the house when the house burned down
I met the man with the thorny crown
I helped Him carry his cross through town
I was in the house when the house burned down
I had the shit till it all got smoked
I kept the promise till the vow got broke
I had to drink from the lovin' cup
I stood on the banks till the river rose up
I saw the bride in her wedding gown
I was in the house when the house burned down”
Where were you?
I was on the toilet.
Then I was on eBay perusing Rolex Tudors.
Then I was on Target browsing rocking chairs for my porch.
Where were you?
Come over to the window, my little darling,
I'd like to try to read your palm.
I used to think I was some kind of Gypsy boy
before I let you take me home.
Now so long, Marianne, it's time that we began
to laugh and cry and cry and laugh about it all again.
Well you know that I love to live with you,
but you make me forget so very much.
I forget to pray for the angels
and then the angels forget to pray for us.
Now so long, Marianne, it's time that we began ...
We met when we were almost young
deep in the green lilac park.
You held on to me like I was a crucifix,
as we went kneeling through the dark.
Oh so long, Marianne, it's time that we began ...
Your letters they all say that you're beside me now.
Then why do I feel alone?
I'm standing on a ledge and your fine spider web
is fastening my ankle to a stone.
Now so long, Marianne, it's time that we began ...
For now I need your hidden love.
I'm cold as a new razor blade.
You left when I told you I was curious,
I never said that I was brave.
Oh so long, Marianne, it's time that we began ...
Oh, you are really such a pretty one.
I see you've gone and changed your name again.
And just when I climbed this whole mountainside,
to wash my eyelids in the rain!
Oh so long, Marianne, it's time that we began ...
Get your head down to the ground
Shake it all around - a dirty sound
Put your knees into your face
And see if you can race - real slow
It's a slowdive - when you die slow
Oh it's low jive - do the slowdive
Now you jump back like a hound
Emit a howling sound
Dig those limbs into the floor
And holler out for more
And tou revel in the dips
when your backbone slips
Taking honeysuckle sips
From your rolling hips
It shifts and shifts
It's a slowdive - when you die slow /
When you come alive it's a low jive
Do the slowdive.
Baby, do you understand me now
Sometimes I feel a little mad
But don't you know that no one alive
Can always be an angel
When things go wrong I seem to be bad
But I'm just a soul whose intentions are good
Oh Lord, please don't let me be misunderstood
Baby, sometimes I'm so carefree
With a joy that's hard to hide
And sometimes it seems that all I have do is worry
Then you're bound to see my other side
But I'm just a soul whose intentions are good
Oh Lord, please don't let me be misunderstood
If I seem edgy I want you to know
That I never mean to take it out on you
Life has it's problems and I get my share
And that's one thing I never meant to do
Because I love you
Oh, Oh baby don't you know I'm human
Have thoughts like any other one
Sometimes I find myself long regretting
Some foolish thing some little simple thing I've done
But I'm just a soul whose intentions are good
Oh Lord, please don't let me be misunderstood
Yes, I'm just a soul whose intentions are good
Oh Lord, please don't let me be misunderstood
Yes, I'm just a soul whose intentions are good
Oh Lord, please don't let me be misunderstood
13 March 2008
Some people say I'm a no 'count.
Others say I'm no good.
But I'm just a natural-born travelin' man, doin' what I think I should,
O, yeah.
Doin' what I think I should.
And I don't give a damn about a greenback dollar,
spend it as fast as I can.
For a wailin' song and a good guitar,
the only things that I understand, poor boy,
the only things that I understand.
When I was a little baby, my momma said,
"Hey, son. Travel where you will and grow to be a man
And sing what must be sung, poor boy. Sing what must be sung."
Now that I'm a grown man, I've traveled here and there.
I've learned that a bottle of brandy and a song,
The only ones who ever care, poor boy, the only ones who ever care.
Stevedores Bear Burdens, Mothers Bear Children, Bears Love Honey
OK, I'll warn you right now that this one is coming through in waves so, bear with me.
I was on my way to Havre de Grace to visit an old friend who teaches forensic horticulture at Bowie. Well, she doesn't really teach it just yet, but she's mapping out a curriculum in cooperation with some rogue Regius Professors of Medicine at the University of Tuzla in Bosnia Herzegovina. She's the first in her field so it's been baby steps for a few years. I visit her from time to time to check in on how its coming along. See, it was me who thought up the idea of forensic horticulture. But like I said, this one is coming through in waves and I'm having a hard time remembering where and when it all began.
I guess, I can say with confidence, it all started with O'Riley's bovine cinnamon fern. What started out as your garden variety corner office fern had grown to be about 7 feet tall by now and he'd fallen in love with the thing.
I mean O'Reily was really attached to this here osmunda cinnamomea. He had a website up about it. One of those blogs where he'd write in the pen of the fern itself: "Today I am well. My master just watered me", that kind of stuff. People from all over the world followed this fern. He - well really I should say the fern - had fans in Siberia south through Japan, Korea, China and Taiwan to Myanmar, Thailand and Vietnam. They all subscribed to his site. He charged them all $10 a month and that allowed them full fern access. He had a 24-hour webcam set up that was just aimed at the fern in the corner of his office. It was unbelievable. His wife would oft find O'Reily in the middle of the night, in the den, squinting at the monitor, eyes trained on his fern. I mean the man quite simply could not take his eyes off the thing.
O'Reily worked for a fern firm called Munchausen, Thearterbate (pronounced like Theater Bait)and Richter. He started as a per diem clerk in the 70's and worked his way up to CFO by the late 90's. He had the cinnamon fern all along and had moved it to every cubicle and office he'd ever had. The fern was originally a gift from a man named Randall Peltzer who'd worked for the firm when it was still Munchausen and Thearterbate. In fact, I don't think Elliot Richter had even been born yet. But we'll get to him later.
Peltzer had interests in Myanmar and Siberia before anyone looked to Asia for capital. He had roots, somehow, that lead back to Egypt and the Sa'id, the Ottoman Empire, all that crazy shit. He'd cultivated all these bizarre relationships with the great-great-great-great-grandchildren of guys like Kavalali Mehmet Ali Paşa. I mean these guys ruled dynasties! Ali Paşa ruled Egypt and the Sudan until the Egyptian Revolution of 1952. These guys were no joke. And here was 5'5'' Randall Peltzer from Manhattan Beach hobnobbing with Turkish warlords and Albanian emperors. Some said Peltzer was the muse for Arthur Miller's Pulitzer Prize winning Willy Loman character. I don't know about any of that but in his heyday, Peltzer was shrewd to the tiebar.
Anyway, that all doesn't matter. Alls I know is Peltzer took a trip to the Suez and came back with this cinnamon fern for the office and he gave it to O'Riley to take care of. I guess the fern became O'Riley's by common law or whatever. I'm not sure if domestic partnership common laws apply to humans and plants in long term non-marital relationships but for the sake of this story let's pretend that they do. Allow me that artistic license, won't you? Though I suppose there couldn't have been mutual consent of the parties to the relationship constituting a marriage since the fern can't speak. But like I said, this one is coming through in waves and I'm having a hard time remembering where and when it all began. O, whatever, let's move on.
So one day the phone rings and it's Marigold and she's calling from the Straits of Gibraltar. No, not the actual place but a physical place, a restaurant/bar down on Hudson. She says she overheard someone talking about a murder. Downing Sidecars and discussing a murder using baseball analogies quite clumsily. Have enough Sidecars poured by a heavy handed bartender and even the most steady spy can kiss clever goodnight. Cointreau is a sweet little truth serum. How do you think MKNAOMI got started?
So Marigold has one foot in the bag herself and she's going on and on about cryptonyms over a bad connection. I told her to meet me at Odessa's in an hour and she did. And it was there, over onion rings and grilled swiss cheese sandwiches on rye, she first told me about Project Bluebird. But like I said, this one is coming through in waves and I'm having a hard time remembering where and when it all began...
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