Talking Biz News is reporting that Reuters supposedly held the SAC Ex-Wife article by the excellent Matt Goldstein after top Thomson Reuters executives allegedly received pressure from the mothership to kill the story. In related news, there may be another reason why several news outlets, who, we have it on good authority, had the story as well, held it until the suit was officially filed, unrelated to any pressure from the hedge fund.
Archive for December 2009
Lookin’ good, Danielle.The prom king and queen were back in court today, responding to the formal insider-trading charges against them with formal declarations of non-guiltiness.
“My daughter is innocent and that is what you will be printing,” accused fraudster Danielle Chiesi’s mom said, and we oblige. “God borrowed my body and gave me this girl. She’s my angel.”
Raj’s Angel “acted like a movie star,” one of the vultures snapping pictures at the courthouse said. The former Miss Binghamton apparently “attracted a swarm of photographers” desperate to see what courtroom chic looks like this holiday season. Answer: dark sunglasses and a long cream-colored coat. Thank you, DealBook.
As John Mack takes his valedictory lap around Wall Street, The Wall Street Journal has decided to take the Knife down a few pegs. It seems that, in choosing a successor to Mack, the board thought it best to hire someone who shares nothing with Mack besides a penchant for cutting costs.
To begin with, James Gorman is Australian. But he’s not like the Australians you’ve seen on TV: He’s deliberate, cautious and doesn’t use foul language. In all the ways that count, he’s actually less Australian than North Carolina’s own John Makhoul.
He’s not even taking Johnny’s bigger office, allowing the dowager empress to keep her throne until he decides to throw her overboard. He’s threatened to discipline–after careful consideration–any floor trader that even looks at him, much less offers him a standing ovation. Gorman’s thinking on that point is simple: You don’t applaud the guy who’s cutting your balls off; you thank him quietly, miss, and start trading like the stupid girl that you are. And don’t dare call him Jim.
As you’re aware, we make a habit of reminding you people that when it comes to food eating contests, you don’t score points by endeavoring to eating 3 bags of chips over a period of 9 hours. You’ve got to either go for high volume in a short amount of time or gross-out factor. No one has ever beat the high bar set by the Wachovia employee who ate three cans of cat food in thirty minutes but it seems like Morgan Stanley is hoping to come close, with a new item recently added to its vending machine.
A pair of panties and 5 inch stilettos. A carton of Pall Malls. The ticket to his first Cher concert. These are just a few of the good luck charms some of the industry’s best known managers (Jiang, Simons, Griffin) turn to when they need that extra inch. They’ve done their research. Their homework has been turned it. But they still aren’t sure which way this thing’s gonna go. So they look to the rabbit’s foot or whatever their version of the rabbit’s foot may be. In David Tepper’s case, it’s a pair of testicles.
The Times editorial boardAnd by “‘em,” The New York Times means you. In a populist screed atop Sunday’s editorial page, the august guardians of opinion at the Gray Lady implore the President to follow the lead of his British and French counterparts and tax the hell out of your bonus, should you be so lucky to receive one.
…the British found a way to realign the fat cats’ boundless greed with the public interest: slapping a hefty windfall tax on their bonuses.
That’s right, fat cats. “The best hope for curbing bankers’ unbridled appetite for risk” is a 50% one-time-only tax on bonuses that, in all likelihood, will be comically easy to evade.