“Is it right for you to be angry?” asked the Lord. And Jonah considered the question. Reflecting on his struggle. His defiance, his three days in the whale, his salvation, his journey to Nineveh, and his warning to its inhabitants. Who duly repented, changed their ways, and were shown god’s mercy. So why indeed was the prophet angered by their salvation? “I’m an extremely, extremely persistent person…extremely,” stut
Hope all goes well… “It’s like hearing a great Vegas story,” said the CIO, describing the geopolitical trading triumphs that swirl every time some rouge regime rolls the dice. “Your buddy tells his heroic tale and it just drives you crazy.” You want to claim one all your own. “The $100k win at craps, off to the club, the Cristal, the chaos.” There’s just one problem. “It’s not credible, it really never happens, or ha
“Nothing’s gonna happen Daddy, you’ll see,” said Teddy, my 9yr old. “Spots isn’t hungry, just look, you can tell,” he warned. So we peered into the glass tank, filled with hot sand, plastic cacti. Plus Spots of course; as menacing a Leopard Gecko as I’ve ever seen, though admittedly, I’ve only seen one. Now, I lack patience. Which may be more nature than nurture; but being rather too close to the subject to gain prop
“Economic sanctions tend to have a boomerang effect,” said the little dictator, standing on a stool. “And in this case they have driven Russian-American relations to a dead-end,” continued the megalomaniac, mixing metaphors. Because of course, boomerangs circle forever. And never dead-end. Unless of course you shoot them down. In which case, they rise from the ashes. Returning with a vengeance. To haunt you. Anyhow,
“We’ve entered the world of How Long,” he said. “And left the world of If.” Which is a killer way to start an evening. Diving right in. Skipping small stuff. So I ordered a round. Not wondering if it’d be the last, but unsure how long we’d be drinking. He’s a brilliant investor. Who wandered West. To California. The future. Which is what we usually discuss. Innovation. Disruption. Singularity. But this evening we tal
Hope all goes well… “Thursday was the first sort of day,” said Roadrunner, the mkt’s top volatility trader. “We came in long a ton.” And sold here and there, as traders rushed to cover shorts. “It was the first time in ages when the scramble for vol spread across asset classes; stocks, bonds, oil.” There’s geopolitical conflict everywhere. Ukraine. South China Sea. Middle East. Africa. And oddly enough, Yellen’s now
Charlie didn’t say a word. Nor did I. We just walked across the field. Together. He on my shoulders, riding high. And I imagined his beatific expression. I couldn’t see it, I felt it. I felt so many things. There are moments without which life would seem somehow unlived. Like when your child first opens his eyes, and meets yours. For an infinite moment. Or when someone reaches for your hand, closes her eyes, and sque
“If I could explain what happened in those six minutes, I would answer,” said Scolari, Brazil’s coach. “But I do not know.” Which isn’t exactly true. He knows what happened, he just doesn’t know why. No one ever really does. But the nice thing about sports is that the ‘why’ isn’t all that important, it’s the ‘what’ that matters. Brazil got demolished, that’s ‘what’ happened. Soon after, no one really cares ‘why.’ Gam
Hope all goes well… “Oh yeah, we’ll look great in a family pic,” said Teddy, tired of being teased, having impulsively cut his own hair with kitchen scissors. “Olivia with her black eye, Jackson with his snaggletooth, and Charlie with his ugly face,” he continued, cracking himself up. Jackson hid his broken front tooth (lacrosse injury). Olivia blushed. But Osama bin Charlie declared jihad, “You forgot about yo
Oh thank god we lost. And no longer have to pretend. That we care about soccer. Or even know a single player’s name. Other than Tim Howard of course. A superhero. Who in that melting-pot, mixed-up sort of American way covers his body in tattoos, battles Tourette’s Syndrome, loves Jesus, wears his beard like a Jihadist, and deflects more incoming shots than the world’s latest self-proclaimed Caliph has middle names. I