September 15, 2021

Former Deutsche Bank Trader Greg Lippmann Has A Few Things He'd Like To Get Off His Chest

Author:
Updated:
Original:

First off, Greg doesn't want to be famous and he says he's "looking forward to being anonymous again." The be-sideburned trader (in Greg Zuckerman's The Greatest Trade Ever his 'burns are described as "unusually long and thick" and in Michael Lewis's The Big Short as those of a "1970s porn star") announced this desire in a recent profile with which he not only cooperated but sat for on two separated occasions and spoke on the record, the genius of which is yet to reveal itself. Second, those hilarious "I'm short your house" shirts he had made back in '06 when he was one of the few making hugely bearish bets on the housing market? He didn't come up with that tag-line. "It's juvenile. It's funny in March of '06 when everybody calls you Chicken Little. It's not funny now," he told the Observer. "It wasn't my idea—that's a fact, on my kids' lives. ... I definitely did not, on my kids lives. Somebody gave it to me." Third, to those who think Lippmann comes off as "dickish" in Zuckerman and Lewis's narratives, that's just plain wrong.

"I think 'dickish' is the wrong word," Mr. Brettschneider, [his partner at, Libre Max, the hedge fund he's about to launch] who speaks in a soft Canadian accent, said. "Just to finish that," Mr. Lippmann added. "If you're a die-hard Yankee fan, and you meet someone who's a die-hard Red Sox fan, there's an initial 'He's a dick,' right? Because he likes the Red Sox and I like the Yankees. So the people that were rabidly bullish about this, that had invested their own careers on the opposite of me, it's natural they'd be like, 'Well, that guy's a dick, because he disagrees with me. He's not a dick for any credible reason. He's a dick because I don't like his opinion.'"

And finally, if you're desperate for a sushi rec, you can still come to old Greggy, known as much for his 'burns and bets as his Sushi Spreadsheet, though he personally does not partake in much raw fish consumption these days.

He isn't dispensing as much Japanese restaurant advice, either. "I still update the spreadsheet, because people ask me to." But in fact, he's not eating much sushi anymore. "One, I don't want to eat bluefin, because it's a terrible thing," he said. "And then, separately: mercury."

Mr. Bubble Bounces Back [NYO]

Related

News

Former Deutsche Bank Trader Greg Lippmann Working "Harder" But Not "Longer" At Libre Max

News

Dealbreaker's Senior Bookmaker Has A Few Things He'd Like To Get Off His Chest

News

Former S&P Analyst Has Some Things He'd Like To Get Off His Chest

News

Confidential To Greg Lippmann: Your Sushi Analysis Is Required Downtown ASAP

News

'Big Short' Trader Greg Lippmann Says Spring For That 12-Tier Wedding Cake, Dress With Hand Beaded Crystals And A 20-Foot Train

Go buck wild: Daddy Lippman's paying.

News

Gregg Lippman's Deutsche Bank Team: Cooking MC's Like A Pound Of Bacon

Hedge Funds

Bubble Boy Lippmann Doing Okay For Himself

Compared his friends. Greg Lippmann's LibreMax Capital, founded with three former colleagues from Deutsche Bank, posted a 10.12 percent gain for the year through the end of July, according to a letter to the fund's investors obtained by Reuters. The average hedge fund gained just 2.78 percent over that period, according to the Hennessee Hedge Fund Index. LibreMax got a boost last month, gaining 2.71 percent, as portions of the mortgage-backed market rallied, Lippmann, who is the fund's chief investment officer and portfolio manager, wrote in the letter. [Reuters]

News

Hedge Fund Manager Who Faked His Own Death Has A Few Theories About Other Famous Murders, Real And Imaginary

Remember Samuel Israel III? For those with short memories, SI3 is a former hedge fund manager who faked his own death in June 2008 with the help of his girlfriend, Debra Ryan, who later wrote an article explaining her actions by noting that she and Israel had "a blazing sex life" that was hard to walk away from (Ryan shared colorful anecdotes that included all the times Israel would "[jokingly] sneak up on her, once while wearing sunglasses on his penis"). For Israel's part, he had pretended to kill himself, incorporating a line from M*A*S*H into his fake suicide note, in an attempt to avoid the prison stay that was coming his way, on account of having taken Bayou Group investors for more than $450 million. At the time, he became something of a minor celebrity, whose business card, prominently featuring an egret, was auctioned off on eBay but since ultimately being sentenced to twenty years behind bars we'd heard nary a peep from the guy. Luckily, Andrew Ross Sorkin recently flew down to Butner, North Carolina for a little chat and it's a good thing he did because Israel had a lot he wanted to get off his chest. After offering ARS an "orange Life Saver," discussing his own version of a playoffs beard ("Mr. Israel...was wearing a tan prison uniform with his hair grown out, a mass of silver and brown curls sprouting from the sides of his bald head. 'I’m never going to cut it until I get out,' he exclaimed"), and talking Ponzi schemes, SI3 got down to the real matter at hand. About halfway through, the interview turned bizarre when Mr. Israel, on the verge of crying, announced: “I took a man’s life. I shot him twice.” I asked for more details. The story is recounted in “Octopus,” but the author, Mr. Lawson, doesn’t appear to believe it. In the supposed slaying, Mr. Israel describes himself defending a known con man, Robert Booth Nichols, who claimed to have once worked for the Central Intelligence Agency and has since died. Mr. Nichols was undertaking a secret trade at a German bank and was ambushed outside by a cockeyed “Middle Eastern guy.” Mr. Israel says he shot the ambusher in the hip and then in the head. He looked at me, shaking, and said, “I’ve seen someone with their head blown off maybe two feet back — as close as I am to you.” Mr. Israel recognized my skepticism. When I asked him what happened to the body, he said, “Bob made a couple of calls.” Again, I looked at him quizzically. “These people can do anything. They can get rid of a body,” he said. “Come on,” he added, looking at me as if I didn’t understand. “They can kill presidents.” I wasn’t sure what he was talking about. “The J.F.K. thing,” he said. He went on to tell me that he had videotapes of Kennedy’s assassination and that one was stolen by the F.B.I. “I know it makes me look like a crackpot,” he said. “But I know it’s real. Look into my eyes — I don’t care if people think I’m crazy.” Egrets. A Con Man Who Lives Between Truth And Fiction [Dealbook]