Wall Street: Money Never Sleeps

    We went to Wall Street: Money Never Sleeps for one reason.  To see how Oliver Stone dealt with the risk thing.


    Wise guys used to own their rackets - either as shareholders, like our Crime Family, or partners.  When business was good, mobsters put up more capital.  If things got slow, they’d pull some off the table.  Should somebody trip the firm up, it was gangsters who got taken to the cleaners.

    In the 60’s, Crime Lords started selling out to the suckers.  Today, public investors put up all the equity, letting perps take their bonuses and run.  The little guy gets paid basically nothing for owning something akin to a symbolic piece of Wall Street nostalgia, and takes it on the chin whenever wise guys set him up for the fall.

    This is why racketeers feel empowered to jump into any crazy caper that comes along.  Most haven’t got skin in the game.  Who holds the bag now is a really big deal, and all people ever do is whisper about it.  The inevitable catastrophic ramifications are never confronted head-on.  In fact, Government and media seem to be pretending that this didn’t happen to us somewhere along the way.

    The risk thing is screaming for attention, and that's what Hollywood's all about.  I figured Oliver Stone would do it up right.

    He didn’t.  He didn’t do it up at all.  Leverage turned out to be the stated theme of his movie too.  Augmenting returns on equity with balance sheet moves.  Its beyond me how somebody can put 133 minutes of leverage on the screen without showing the part about using other people’s capital to begin with.

    Go to the multiplex and pick another door.  I’d stop believing his dumb JFK assassination theory too.  If this film shows us anything, its got to be how Oliver Stone managed to come up with that one.
 
    Oswald acted alone.

Getting out of Prop Trading

    We saw on Bloomberg TV where Goldberg, Styx is shopping its proprietary trading functions.  This news disgorged a cascade of thought, none of it very pleasant.

    The Mob likes to tell you that there’s evil trading and then there’s good trading too, like Bad Superman on drugs and Bad Superman in rehab, I guess.  Our readers need to understand why The Kid of Steel cringes whenever such a distinction is forced.  Lets start with an objective look at Gangland trading.

    Whether buy or sell, your every order runs cash through Crime Family books, and racketeers in the War Room pocket whatever they can dip their greedy little fingers into.  The initial skim, plus anything else the Consigliore thinks he can get away with, becomes fees and commissions.  If wise guys drub your a$$ real good, mob bean counters classify this egregious windfall as trading profits, bagging the loot inside a whole other ledger.  The criminal mind associates a typical heist here with something they want to call market-making, and perps have come to view an outrageous swindle as proprietary trading.  Make no mistake about it, that’s where these felons go for your life savings.

    Watch the TV documentary Enron: The Smartest Guys in the Room, noting its illuminating footage on electricity futures, particularly trader chatter at the time they were taking California down.  It’s the only honest portrayal of who these bloodsucking thieves are, what they do, and how they go about doing it you’ll find outside of our own Filch & Finagle War Room coverage.  Why this remarkable achievement in the cinematic arts didn’t take all the Oscars and Emmys that year baffles this ardent movie-goer.

    The Kid’s mob connection, with close matrimonial ties to his mother, who was a Saint, explained that Gangland trading spawns from an unholy trinity of  1) the customer book, letting wise guys dance around orders, scamming marks before, during, and/or after execution,  2) concerted action, all the Families morphed into one humongous Satan, and  3) short-selling, also known as The Death Grip around our house.

    Short-selling is how thugs shake the tree.  That’s when the fruit falls down.  All the fruit.

    Shorts scare the bejeezus out of people, usually in a telephone-coordinated mob-wide frontal attack, often bullying victims into dumping everything they’ve got.  In dire times, the psychopaths maniacally crush the entire global economy, as some of you may have noticed.

    Whatever’s going on with Goldberg, Styx, three things are certain:  1) the Don won’t be letting go of his customer book anytime soon,  3) Organized Crime will continue to flood Washington with bribes silencing any talk about quashing the mob’s short-selling Death Grip, and  2) wherever Goldberg proprietary traders end up is still just a phone call away from home.

    How the Crime Lords are going to put their personal capital to work becomes the real issue of the day.

    Our last thought is more of a nightmare really.  It recalls so many wise guys we once knew.

    There are only two sources of money on Wall Street, you may have heard somewhere, yours and theirs, and recruiting armies of fresh-faced young MBA’s to wage a major campaign during boom years is one way they turn yours into theirs big time.

    Twenty somethings wash through Wall Street on the tides, waves and waves of them rolling in while markets rise, then floating off in the fog of prices misbegotten like so much flotsam and jetsam.  When combat ends, mob castaways lie beached - battered, bloodied and betrayed along with the rest of the battle carnage.

    They’re disillusioned victims in this too, all the young ex-soldiers.

Special Bulletin

Today's New York Times reports that “activities at the heart of what Wall Street does — selling and trading stocks and bonds, and advising on mergers — are running at levels well below where they were at this point last year,” according to a bank analyst who was among the first to warn of the subprime mortgage disaster and its impact on big banks.



    Note the phrasing, “selling and trading stocks …”.  Unabashedly the practices of totally ripping off customers (trading) and executing their orders (selling) are presented as one and the same thing.  Our readers understand the criminality involved.  The mob doesn’t just take your business when you phone in an order.



    The bloodsucking thieves trade all over your sorry a$$ too.

    Anyway, this decline in activity should cheer Post regulars up.  There are only two kinds of money on Wall Street, as you may have heard somewhere, yours and theirs, and anytime racketeering slows down, even just a little, you get to hang on to that much more of yours.  If business there were to shutter completely, you’d end up holding on to it all.



    Yeah, I know.  Dream on, MacDougal.  But things are looking a little better for the good guys in today’s paper.  The piece goes on to say that Summer, a time when the market didn’t do so bad by us, was just horrible for wise guys.

    Lets hope Fall gets even worse.

The Senator

    As our readers know, storefront barracuda Foolah Malarkey never goes anywhere without her divorce attorney.  Wall Street is a man’s world, and whenever something needs to be done about that, Queezhis knows exactly what that something is and how to go about doing it.


    “Queeshis Nadsoff, Mr. Irving.  Always a pleasure to meet someone of your gender.”


    “(Gulp)”.  That pleasure was all hers, believe me.


    Moments later, The MacDougal Post had hired itself a lobbyist.  Clearly our cause needs legal advocacy of some kind, and who better than a spheroid-busting misandrist?  Having some experience in matters of Holy acrimony, it should come as no surprise to anyone that your blogger would turn to a patricidal maniac when he needed to totally screw somebody over himself.


    And that somebody is the short-seller.


    The racketeer who sells investors a bookkeeping transaction instead of stock, then pays the dividends on those bogus shares himself, completing the deception by representing that this money comes from the company suckers believe they’re investing in.  The Wall Street mob lies for him too, and it isn’t only those bloodsucking thieves who go around spreading arrogant hooey.


    It’s our regulatory hotshots at the SEC.  That’s right, readers, staff at your own Securities and Excuses Commission in Washington, DC knock themselves out trying to explain away WTF is going on here.  WTF has been going on here since the beginning of gamed-market capitalism, so they're well-practiced at it.


    Crime families tell the public to buy a stock because it sells at 53 and its earnings per share (EPS) are $4.00, or whatever, and then get everyone in their wealthy cabal to dump so many phony shares in with real ones that EPS, in effect, drops to $0.04, and our regulatory hotshots obfuscate for them.  It's massive securities fraud, and the SEC sputters on, misinforming everyone about short-selling swindles, letting racketeers get richer and richer purloining our savings this way year after decade after century.


    We were dying to see what Queezhis Nadsoff would grab onto with this one.  Here’s where those busy little grapple hooks went:


    September 16, 2010  Blogger and staff of The MacDougal Post, award-winning and endearingly salacious financial blog are pleased to announce that some Senator from Delaware has been informed of http://themacdougalpost.blogspot.com/, our cherished website link.  Once the distinguished legislator has perused these posts and the accompanying sidebars, we're confident he'll be motivated to get short-selling banned on Wall Street forever.


    Obviously, any references we may have made to any pervasive corruption by any lying, bribe-snagging Washington pervert/scoundrel politicians in some mob-controlled legislative bodies in our nation’s capitol did not pertain to the Senator.


    We are delighted to welcome him on site.

Boon Doggler

    As Chairman of the powerful House Financial Rackets Committee, Boon Doggler, Gay Caucus Whip, grips those busy, busy Congressional purse strings limply.  His Win-a-Date-with-Boon Charitable Foundation, offering corporate lobbyists an intimate personal encounter with the flaming Capitol Hill orator, took in $127 million last year, a windfall even by Washington standards.


    Major corporate donors include financial racketeering giants like Filch & Finagle, Falutin National Bank, Market Assault Cabal, and Cuckold & DeMasculate, leading Affirmative Action Crime Family, all financial racketeering giants buying legislation from the legislator.  Lobbyists are mostly former Gay Caucus Congressmen who want dates with Doggler.

    The charity’s principal giveaway, providing free Vote for Boon tee-shirts to schoolchildren in the Whip’s district, has enriched so many young lives that Win-a-Date-with-Boon Director, Jiggles Swisher, now has plans to erect a Boon Doggler Statue 151 feet away from every polling place in the State of Massachusetts.

    When asked if Doggler was planning to make that long-anticipated run at one of his state’s two Senatorial seats, Jiggles commented, “no comment.”

    But the charity has accelerated its cultural Vote for Boon tee-shirt initiative, judging from all the truckers trolling foundation loading docks lately.

    “In addition to Vote for Boon tee-shirts, what else does your charity do?”

    “Boon signs them.”

    “Doggler signs the Vote for Boon tee-shirts?” I had trouble believing.

    “For 100 bucks. We also pay bloggers 50 bucks if they mention Vote for Boon tee-shirts five times in one posting.”

    “Cash money?” I figured I might as well ask.

    “Yup.”

Foolah Malarkey

    Cuckold & DeMasculate, leading Affirmative Action Crime Family, stopped hiring single white males decades ago.  Not that any ever wanted to work there in the first place, mind you.

    When U.S. Ucker pulled his Lexis in front of the Cuckold & Demasculate Minneapolis storefront that morning, he saw that Foolah Malarkey, barracuda in charge, had boarded up the windows.  U.S., also known as everyman in Twin City literary circles, wondered if moving the account here hadn’t been a big mistake.  At their first get together, those initial misgivings should've registered as stark realization.

    Foolah’s divorce lawyer sat in on the meeting with her.

    “What do you need a divorce lawyer for?” U.S inquired.

    “Queezhis?  I take her to all my meetings.”

    “Queezhis Nadsoff, Mr. Ucker."  They shook hands.  Woman had quite the grip I assure you.

    “(Gulp).”

    “Well, lets take a look at your folder.”

    “How come it’s red?” U.S. wanted to know.  All the other folders were manila.

    There are only two sources of money on Wall Street.  Yours and theirs, and mob computer geeks have ingenious ways of making yours theirs no matter how hard you try to prevent them.  At Cuckold & DeMasculate, one of these involves red folders.

    Some investors actually make money dealing with their Crime Family.  When such an anomaly gets spotted, the account is flagged, matched with others having this same peculiarity, and wise guys start tracking the rogue group.

    If these results turn out to be real, grifters tell other customers to do the exact opposite, whatever that is, so that Family proprietary traders can clean up taking positions against them.  The losers get red-flagged in mob ledgers, letting wise guys know who they are when somebody wants to go and rob them.

    At Cuckold & DeMasculate it’s done a little differently. Instead of flags, they use red folders, and nobody cares how poorly your account is doing.  If you’re a single white male, you get one.

    “How come my folder is red?” U.S. inquired a second time.  Foolah fingered the button on her blouse, the only button, and Ucker forgot where he was and what he was there for, never mind ……. what was it? ……… something about …. about …… bookkeeping colors?

    Foolah pumped BAC the first time U.S. called in to talk to her.  “Buy 1,000 shares,” he agreed.  Then the St. Paul divorcee shifted into dump mode.


    Mucus Poole-Knightly was clubbing baby seals up in the Maritime Provinces when she got word to him via satellite telephone.  Cuckold & DeMasculate belonged to his Market Assault Cabal, mob conspiracy of hedge fund short-sellers aimed at destroying the world economy one small investor at a time, and Foolah Malarkey had kind of become Poole-Knightly's pet barracuda.  “Red-filed, huh,” the nation’s leading financial problem responded, “and he’s buying 1,000 BAC.  What do you want to do, Ragheed?”

    Ragheed Waddah Shlemiel, ace Middle Eastern stock market terrorist, was clubbing alongside Mucus.  The apocalyptic mastermind looked too busy slaughtering adorable little newborns in front of tearful mothers to answer.  He kind of nodded what seemed like avid consent to something already understood between arch-villains.

    The cabal sold a zillion BAC shares short at prices from 53 down to to 39 that week, and dumped 24 megazillions more over the next six months, dropping the quote to 3.  U.S. Ucker cashed out his Cuckold and DeMasculate account and stuck the money under a brand new orthopedic mattress.

    Today U.S. totes cans of Mace around with him whenever he leaves his bedroom.  Everyman hopes he never gets pumped and dumped by the likes of Foolah Malarkey again, but has to be ready in case it ever starts to happen.

Little Miss Innocent

    Jimmy Bob Billy Jack’s was a small town furniture store run by five longtime friends and former high school teammates.  Any way they tried to fit Sammy into the name sounded funny, so the quarterback suggested sticking “Sammy, Prop.” in at the bottom of the sign.  Jimmy became their floor salesman, Bob the buyer, Billy handled heavy lifting, and Jack security, grounds and maintenance.  Whatever else needed doing, Sammy got her done.


    Like talking to the lawyer when the buddies agreed to go ahead and launch.  The snake gave Sammy one voting share of stock in the Jimmy Bob Billy Jack’s Corporation, his pals one non-voting share apiece.  Pulling guard Curdle Ublud being the snake in question, about here Jimmy, Bob, Billy, and Jack should’ve seen something coming, but didn’t.

    Needless to say, Sammy got to be Chairman and CEO.  He rented that empty space over to the Main Street Mall, Billy bought some furniture, Jack opened the store doors, and the five of them showed up for work.

    Ten years later, The Kid rode into town.  A newly minted junior accountant, the CPA firm hiring him put The Kid on the Jimmy Bob Billy Jack’s account.  It was the only client he had, spending the rest of his time assisting one of the partners.  Didn’t take long to figure out why.

    The five old buddies made $24,000 a year each under an oral agreement calling for equal pay.  Unbeknownst to the non-voting four, Sammy received $150,000 annually in dividends on voting stock, Curdle $50,000 for coming up with that idea.  Non-voting shares did not accrue dividends.

    There were two sets of corporate books, one kept at the store, the other inside The Kid’s bottom drawer.  The job required him to conceal accounting entries defrauding Jimmy, Bob, Billy, and Jack, reconcile undisclosed banking records, and prepare Government forms reporting various parts of this unholy mess to the IRS and them as best he could.

    The client was his because none of the partners would acknowledge the account existed.  If an issue came up, he had to resolve it himself.

    An accountant needed one year’s experience with a CPA firm to qualify for certification.  On the 366th day The Kid gave notice.  He left after 380 and went looking for honest work.

    Today, when The Kid reads about Main Street investigating the financial evils on Wall Street, he wishes there was some way to get little Miss Innocent washing her own hands too.

Bloomingdales and the Shorts

Crime Boss MacDougal Irving, Sr. and the Saintly Missus

and

Them

Reluctantly Invite You

To

The Train Wreck of the Century

Between

MacDougal Irving, Jr. and What’s-her-name

Nuptials at Noon

Bar Opens at 9:00 AM

    Bloomingdales seemed like a nice enough girl, and struck some as almost pretty in the right kind of light.  Before they invented credit cards, one might have thought her a tolerable catch.  All right, Bloomingdales wasn’t actually her real name, but you wouldn’t have known it from the statements.  Visa, American Express, MasterCard, Discover, Platinum Select, Venture One, Diamond Preferred, Gold Prestige, No Hassle Cash, Venture Rewards, Chase, Capital One, Citi, HSBC.  All the statements.

    The woe from this Category 5 Windbag lasted through personal insolvency, and would’ve carried The Kid well into Chapter 13 if Bloomingdales hadn’t run off with the UPS guy one curious afternoon.  The sink hole this world-class shopper made of that dowry was nothing compared to the deprivation structured into The Kid’s divorce settlement.

    Zero is a really lonely number.

    Short-sellers say they target companies, but that’s a lie.  They victimize people.  Investors with margin accounts first, then other “weak hands”, meaning those who scare easily or can be hoodwinked or bullied into selling stocks they hold.

    In 2008/09, Crime Lords reached inside the accounting profession and changed the way financial assets were valued.  All paper had to be priced at market quotes that could be manipulated by short-sellers.  At the same time, the Racketeers spread lies that the resulting inappropriate values meant the entire financial sector was insolvent.

    Bank of America stock got battered from prices in the 50’s to something around 3.  Battered by short-sellers making a run on the banking system.  Lehman got shuttered.

    Short-sellers are bloodsucking thieves, and none are in the slammer for the criminal conspiracy that caused the Great Stock Market Crash.  The Securities and Excuses Commission is owned by the mob, and state Attorney Generals act like worldwide financial fraud isn’t a crime.  Like the suicides of who knows how many victims and the slain families and all the illness and homelessness and the financial ruination of tens of millions anyway are somehow disconnected from the arch-villains who wreak such horrific human devastation.

    We don’t have free-market capitalism.  We have gamed-market nepotism.  And you need to stop calling this a democracy.  It’s plutocracy we‘re forced into suffering.  Anyone who thinks that gamed-market nepotism and single-party plutocracy works deserves to try living at the bottom of the food chain.  We need to go after their money for a change.  But we don’t.

    That thing with Bloomingdales was a marriage made in the kind of Heaven that seems to be looking out for us today.

Tug of War

    Lately we’ve seen stock prices pulled by two opposing forces.  Forecasts centered on joblessness drag markets down while admirable financial results at large corporations yank quotes back up.  This appears to be playing out within a big picture fighting hard to overlook an embarrassingly resilient core economy comprising everyone who hasn’t been laid off yet plus those with income not tied to the manufacturing or housing sectors.


    Lets look at this morning’s now 256 point rally in the Dow in terms of what we’re blogging about, short-selling.



    Short-sellers attack margin accounts first.  Investors borrowing money to buy stocks have to sell when market quotes drop, precisely what shorts are trying to force people to do.  That vulnerability makes the cash margin there an easy target.

    Now, marks only borrow to buy stocks with excellent prospects of going up, so these issues always draw a lot of short interest.  Stock rising 10% in today’s environment is likely to get chopped by 20% when shorts get their chance to go after that quote.  Force the margin boys to liquidate that way.

    Start looking for this yourself, and you'll see what we mean.  Short-sellers take great stocks on this insane roller coaster ride that scares a lot of good people away from them.

    This morning, the tide turned against short-sellers, forcing them to scramble, cut back on some positions, maybe go net long for a spell.  Were this to continue, we’d be looking at the turnaround generating a new bull move.  Otherwise, it’s just a short-covering rally.  Shorts repositioning somewhat, then shorting with a vengeance when the updraft has run its course.



    Who knows which way this will play out?  Don’t look here for market advice.  Prices get turned by the likes of Pockets Mulgoon, mobsters doing their dirty work together, operating as one, pouring all the money they need into what they’ve decided the market is going to do, and the bloodsucking thieves play it so close to the vest that people like you and me will never ever know what’s coming at us next.

    Price moves have nothing to do with anything but mob phone calls.

    Whatever, I'd guess that this Yin-Yang thing is too profitable to give up, so it seems a sure bet that confusion will continue to reign.