Or Jenna Elfman! Or Whoopi Goldberg! All you need is $2.5 million, $150,000 you’re willing to part with and you, too, could have a director’s chair with your name on the back. Maybe even a 30% to 60% return. Read more »
Alibaba’s not going to say it has zero faith in the Nasdaq following its not so great handling of the Facebook IPO but it’s not not going to say it has zero faith in the Nasdaq following its not so great handling of the Facebook IPO. Read more »
Hedge-fund manager William Ackman aims to raise $2 billion through the initial public offering of one of his funds on Euronext Amsterdam in a move that will provide it with steady capital. Pershing Square Holdings Ltd. said Monday that it plans to float on the Amsterdam stock exchange for $25 a share, giving it a market capitalization of at least $5 billion…The IPO comes as activist investors are embarking on a drive to take advantage of their increasing clout in boardrooms and above-average hedge-fund returns. Mr. Ackman hopes that the IPO will provide him with more permanent capital. [WSJ]
Like maybe now that he’s got all this free time on his hands, he should lace up his skates and whip the New York Islanders into shape? With his afternoons unoccupied for the next four years and his old Harvard game plans already dug out of the attic, the three-time Ivy League hockey champion is ready to teach these NHL underachievers a thing or two about working a puck. As for his consigliere Wilbur, she wouldn’t be caught dead in Minneapolis, but is happy to entertain offers to tickle the ivories in Brookklyn as Barclays Center organist. See Phil for dressing room demands. Read more »
Failure to “adhere to a clear breadstick policy” is one of the many, many things Olive Garden is doing wrong, according to a new presentation by Starboard Value. Read more »
I get to do it all as Dealbreaker Chef de Cuisine, and for that I’m obviously grateful. But like anyone, I have unfulfilled dreams. I’m mortal, after all (though anyone who’s eaten my avocado, bacon, egg and cheese on fresh-baked sourdough bread might beg to differ).
If you ask most of my fellow chefs who they most want to cook for, you’d get the expected responses: heads of state, famous authors, maybe the Manning brothers and Archie.
Not me. The thing I dream about most is actually a catering job at a very specific kind of party. A party in the East Village where a man’s – and woman’s – dreams come true. A place with literally wall-to-ceiling vaginas, and I haven’t even mentioned the guests.
Sometimes after a rough day, you know the kind – the one where your now-former sous chef screwed up the seasoning on the pork medallions or the ship carrying the oysters from Japan capsized – I close my eyes and dare to dream about what it would be like.
I picture myself sitting 5 feet away from the honoured host. He’s pregaming with a glass of Prosecco, and two windows open on his computer. In one, he’s frantically refreshing and re-refreshing the Department of Buildings’ website in hopes that his permit for a roof deck jacuzzi gets approved in time for tonight’s bash. In the other he’s having business cards made – the premium stock – with just three words on them: “Maestro of Fucking.”
Obviously, I’m talking about Nouriel Roubini, and the pleasure it would be to come to one of his parties and feed his motley crew of guests. Instead of the typical items they’ve come to expect at parties thrown and attended by the 1%, I’d open their mind to a finger food humble in presentation and explosive in taste: nachos. Read more »