Oh man, that was a great time.
Was it good for you Mr. Bernacke?
Anyways, this is a little awkward, I have a meeting in Jackson Hole tommorow morning, so, I think you should leave. I’ll call you though. Next time I’m in town….
In 1976, I won the American Mathematical Society’s Oswald Veblen Prize in Geometry, for work that involved a recasting of the subject of area minimizing multi-dimensional surfaces and characteristic forms. This resulted in my proof of the Bernstein conjecture up to real dimension 8, and an improvement of a certain “regularity” result of Wendell H. Fleming on a generalized Plateau’s problem.
So, I got that going for me, which is nice…
Then I says to James Coburn, yeah well I wanna fuck Angie Dickinson, and that ain’t gonna happen either. Who do you think you are, some kinda jowly Jason Robards type? That’s when he took a swing at me.
I’ll tell ya what, I hope dinner theater in Peoria works out for ya, cause you won’t be havin’ lunch in this town for a looong time.
Then his Agent tried to give me a blow job and I kicked both of their wrinkly booth-tanned, botoxed asses outta here. Who has time for this?
Cornelia! Where’s my Metamucil shake dammit?
hi. If i want to see the winner of caption contest last week (i think it should have been me you ass fuckers), where can i go? does these dumb ass contests have winners? let me know.
here is my caption contest solution this week:
“does this punk ass reporter interviewing me know how much money i have? I’ll stick this cigarret so far up his gay little ass that he’ll blow smoke. he he he, motha fuckaa”
“Most people have this image in their heads of [finance] executives jet-setting around the world on private planes, eating foie gras as they count their money. Not me. I like to ride with the people. Know your clients. My people cram themselves into a tiny seat, pop a Xanex, and dream of the moment when they can stuff their face with fresh tobacco. If I can convince just one of these kids to [give another million to my fund] , I’ve paid for my flight. Round trip!”
- Thank You For Smoking [as edited]
Posted by Tapecracker | August 8, 2008 at 12:33 PM
“You know what? F%#k it, I’m lighting up right here… but maybe I should hold it up closer to the air vent so nobody can smell it… these Cloves are the shiznit!”
To 57
Yeah, I just got a High school degree and work for Merrill as a quant. Do you have problem with it?! I am not even a full time employee. How about that?!
I have my calculator handy..
Very well, where do I begin?
My father was a relentlessly self-improving boulangerie owner from Belgium with low grade narcolepsy and a penchant for buggery. My mother was a 15-year old French prostitute named Chloe with webbed feet. My father would womanize, he would drink, he would make outrageous claims like he invented the question mark. Some times he would accuse chestnuts of being lazy, the sort of general malaise that only the genius possess and the insane lament. My childhood was typical, summers in Rangoon, luge lessons. In the spring we’d make meat helmets. When I was insolent I was placed in a burlap bag and beaten with reeds, pretty standard really. At the age of 12 I received my first scribe. At the age of fourteen, a Zoroastrian named Vilma ritualistically shaved my testicles. There really is nothing like a shorn scrotum, it’s breathtaking, I suggest you try it.
I’m packed and I’m holding,
I’m smiling, she’s living, she’s golden and
she lives for me, She says she lives for me,
Ovation, She’s got her own motivation,
she comes round and she goes down on me,
And I make her smile, It’s like a drug for you,
Do ever what you want to do,
Coming over you,
Keep on smiling,
what we go through.
One stop to the rhythm that divides you,
And I speak to you like the chorus to the verse,
Chop another line like a coda with a curse,
And I come on like a freak show takes the stage.
We give them the games we play, she said,
I want something else, to get me through this,
Semi-charmed kind of life,
I want something else,
I’m not listening when you say, Good-bye.
The sky it was gold, it was rose,
I was taking sips of it through my nose,
And I wish I could get back there,
Some place back there,
Smiling in the pictures you would take,
Doing crystal myth,
Will lift you up until you break,
It won’t stop,
I won’t come down, I keep stock,
With a tick tock rhythm and a bump for the drop,
And then I bumped up. I took the hit I was given,
Then I bumped again,
And then I bumped again.
How do I get back there to,
The place where I fell asleep inside you?
How do I get myself back to,
The place where you said,
I want something else to get me through this,
semi-charmed kind of life,
I want something else,
I’m not listening when you say, good-bye,
I decided to give a hand to all the mofos which say they know how to manage risk at ML, MS etc.
They are supposed to be studied people but honestly they are a bunch of idiots
They call themselves head quants but do not have idea what they are doing.
More stupid the institutios that keep them since they become parasits in the long term.
I do not undertand people that attend their conferences and buy their books “life as quant” or related bullshit.
Do not go with the stream, think different!!!
That clown from Mens Warehouse ain’t got shit on my Manly Medallion.
Seriously, has the tip box dried up to a point DB needs to ripoff SA every Friday ?
“So then I sez to the Monsignor, why not the little piece right behind the scrotum? And he laughs, ‘well, if you can find an electrode small enough,’ and that’s when the tape cut out.
Larry Ellison admitted smoking had aged his body dramatically in recent years
“How did this picture of me get posted at 10:30 when its only 10:28?”
Watch out for the medallion my diamonds are wreckless…Feels like a MIDGET is hanging from my neckless…
Joan Rivers in a world without plastic surgery.
-Nominate me
I got mind control over Dibo. When he here, I be quiet. When he leave, oh I be talking again.
“So, I was reading that article on Horatio Al… no, nevermind. It was too long, didn’t read.” *puff* *puff*
“I could tell you how I made my billions … but then I’d have to kill you …”
“bling bling…everytime i come around your city bling bling”
Oh man, that was a great time.
Was it good for you Mr. Bernacke?
Anyways, this is a little awkward, I have a meeting in Jackson Hole tommorow morning, so, I think you should leave. I’ll call you though. Next time I’m in town….
I normally smoke Swisher Sweet blunts, but they make me look like a cheap tramp.
So I puff a fag every now and then, what’s the big deal.
Don’t you EVER ask me about my business.
what are auction rate securities?
Oh, the fuckin color trails…
Once I break $10BN I can get some decent window treatments, or at least have the smoke cleaned off the blinds.
“That was one hell of a blowjob!”
12: nicely done.
wait….so where am I supposed to stick it?
putt-putt-putt from the rough?!?!?
“You know I’m gay, right?”
I’d like to pay you $5mm for your lungs. Cash. Deal?
Who the hell is that?
Zut alors, I no longer work for SocGen
http://www.bloomberg.com/apps/news?pid=20601087&sid=aOuRR1A6ybCs&refer=home
In 1976, I won the American Mathematical Society’s Oswald Veblen Prize in Geometry, for work that involved a recasting of the subject of area minimizing multi-dimensional surfaces and characteristic forms. This resulted in my proof of the Bernstein conjecture up to real dimension 8, and an improvement of a certain “regularity” result of Wendell H. Fleming on a generalized Plateau’s problem.
So, I got that going for me, which is nice…
Look Kermit, I’m the one who created *you*, so I get to stick my hand up *your* butt. That’s just the way it works in show business.
Show me your black box, I’ll show you mine…
i charge 2x the fees of the industry standard, and i am posting amazing returns while my peers lag.
i could care less about dealbreaker
bitches
I’ll give you “volatility smile, you hack-its backtest time-bend over
Son, if you were a stock, I’d short you… *puff, puff*
So I’ve been thinking…
Just how much is enough?
Does this fag make me look faggy?
At my age, the only thing I can go long is a stock…
Is that teacher from “Head of the Class”??? I loved that show.
Check this out
http://www.imdb.com/name/nm0381606/
Yeah, my top holding is UST-I dont drink wine either-whats your point?
McLovin?
What kind of a stupid name is that?
What, are you trying to be an Irish R&B singer?
Short Phillip Morris. Long Metamucil. Got it?
Ok, so I really *am* both TGFD and TOGFD. Sue me.
boy you really can’t tell this is a one hitter, can you?
Dead man inhaling.
Bond. James Bond.
Then I says to James Coburn, yeah well I wanna fuck Angie Dickinson, and that ain’t gonna happen either. Who do you think you are, some kinda jowly Jason Robards type? That’s when he took a swing at me.
I’ll tell ya what, I hope dinner theater in Peoria works out for ya, cause you won’t be havin’ lunch in this town for a looong time.
Then his Agent tried to give me a blow job and I kicked both of their wrinkly booth-tanned, botoxed asses outta here. Who has time for this?
Cornelia! Where’s my Metamucil shake dammit?
Our trading algorithms have hedged our exposure to lung cancer, too.
Elementary, my dear Watson, Elementary.
hmmmmmmmmmmmmm…..
hi. If i want to see the winner of caption contest last week (i think it should have been me you ass fuckers), where can i go? does these dumb ass contests have winners? let me know.
here is my caption contest solution this week:
“does this punk ass reporter interviewing me know how much money i have? I’ll stick this cigarret so far up his gay little ass that he’ll blow smoke. he he he, motha fuckaa”
“Most people have this image in their heads of [finance] executives jet-setting around the world on private planes, eating foie gras as they count their money. Not me. I like to ride with the people. Know your clients. My people cram themselves into a tiny seat, pop a Xanex, and dream of the moment when they can stuff their face with fresh tobacco. If I can convince just one of these kids to [give another million to my fund] , I’ve paid for my flight. Round trip!”
- Thank You For Smoking [as edited]
Joint Hypothesis problem? Yeah, I’ve got your Joint Hypohesis problem right here!
Joint Hypothesis Problem? Yeah, I’ve got your Joint Hypothesis Problem right here!
Black? Scholes? Merton? Amatuers. Fucking Amatuers!
Alright – here’s the secret to my trading algorithms: E = MC2. hahaha
Yeah right, recession, next thing you’ll be telling me is smoking causes cancer.
“Jeffy was right about those massages”
“You know what? F%#k it, I’m lighting up right here… but maybe I should hold it up closer to the air vent so nobody can smell it… these Cloves are the shiznit!”
“I’m Ritch biotch!”
How ’bout you side burns? You want some milk?
I’d rather have a beer!
“Yeah, I do take 40%. So, what the fuck you going to do about it?”
he takes 45%, genius.
“…hum…only if could have one of those quants with just a high school degree who work at Merrill Lynch!!”
If I had met you forty years ago, you would have been my number one lady.
http://www.mclovinidmaker.com/index.php?x=-1&y=-1&width=-1&height=-1&image=/images/200808081201jimsimonslightsup1.jpg.jpg
To 57
Yeah, I just got a High school degree and work for Merrill as a quant. Do you have problem with it?! I am not even a full time employee. How about that?!
I have my calculator handy..
You mean you did not take Alchemy 101?
“quant + high school + Merrill lynch”
http://www.google.com/search?sourceid=navclient&ie=UTF-8&rlz=1T4RNWN_enUS253US253&q=quant+%2b+high+school+%2b+merrill+lynch
A tan like this takes dedication, Steve. Seriously.
Very well, where do I begin?
My father was a relentlessly self-improving boulangerie owner from Belgium with low grade narcolepsy and a penchant for buggery. My mother was a 15-year old French prostitute named Chloe with webbed feet. My father would womanize, he would drink, he would make outrageous claims like he invented the question mark. Some times he would accuse chestnuts of being lazy, the sort of general malaise that only the genius possess and the insane lament. My childhood was typical, summers in Rangoon, luge lessons. In the spring we’d make meat helmets. When I was insolent I was placed in a burlap bag and beaten with reeds, pretty standard really. At the age of 12 I received my first scribe. At the age of fourteen, a Zoroastrian named Vilma ritualistically shaved my testicles. There really is nothing like a shorn scrotum, it’s breathtaking, I suggest you try it.
“Can’t we discuss this like grown men, Mr. Poopy-Pants”?
~Lt. Frank Drebin
I’m Rick James…Simons….bitch!
My returns are smokin hot!!!
i banged your mom
Hey – that coffee isn’t gonna make itself, sunshine. Chop chop.
64: Come up with an original thought fuckwad.
B.W.
So… I was talking to the Other Guy from Delaware this morning. Bitches…this dude really has it nailed!
PS: @ 37 – Blow me!
i could use a smooth thai boy right about now
It’s tobacco! Do I look like Jimmy F’n Cayne!!!!!!!!!!!
I’m packed and I’m holding,
I’m smiling, she’s living, she’s golden and
she lives for me, She says she lives for me,
Ovation, She’s got her own motivation,
she comes round and she goes down on me,
And I make her smile, It’s like a drug for you,
Do ever what you want to do,
Coming over you,
Keep on smiling,
what we go through.
One stop to the rhythm that divides you,
And I speak to you like the chorus to the verse,
Chop another line like a coda with a curse,
And I come on like a freak show takes the stage.
We give them the games we play, she said,
I want something else, to get me through this,
Semi-charmed kind of life,
I want something else,
I’m not listening when you say, Good-bye.
The sky it was gold, it was rose,
I was taking sips of it through my nose,
And I wish I could get back there,
Some place back there,
Smiling in the pictures you would take,
Doing crystal myth,
Will lift you up until you break,
It won’t stop,
I won’t come down, I keep stock,
With a tick tock rhythm and a bump for the drop,
And then I bumped up. I took the hit I was given,
Then I bumped again,
And then I bumped again.
How do I get back there to,
The place where I fell asleep inside you?
How do I get myself back to,
The place where you said,
I want something else to get me through this,
semi-charmed kind of life,
I want something else,
I’m not listening when you say, good-bye,
Reporter: So, what do you think about Ben printing money to solve our liquidity situation?
Jim: Ben doesn’t print money. I do.
I decided to give a hand to all the mofos which say they know how to manage risk at ML, MS etc.
They are supposed to be studied people but honestly they are a bunch of idiots
They call themselves head quants but do not have idea what they are doing.
More stupid the institutios that keep them since they become parasits in the long term.
I do not undertand people that attend their conferences and buy their books “life as quant” or related bullshit.
Do not go with the stream, think different!!!
Jim Simons does his best Ayn Rand imitation.
“This interviewer has no idea where Setauket is. Piece of work. But I would still hit it,” he thinks between drags.
I can’t feel my face
You do know that I will have to kill you now that you mentioned the institutional equities fund?
That clown from Mens Warehouse ain’t got shit on my Manly Medallion.
Seriously, has the tip box dried up to a point DB needs to ripoff SA every Friday ?
“Because I didn’t fucking feel like wearing pants.”
So who the fuck are you? My wife’s attorney?
“So then I sez to the Monsignor, why not the little piece right behind the scrotum? And he laughs, ‘well, if you can find an electrode small enough,’ and that’s when the tape cut out.
Comments 80, 84, 75/82 in that order.
25, 58, 84 – Winners
Happiness is a warm gun
“Nevermind the billion plus I make yearly… Im really quite a simple person, see this watch? its fake, I swear”