Legs

 

 

Boys I need you to give me something big, I'm talking 'bout dollar signs.

 

Every villain needs an origin story. My origin story begins in a small underground futures trading chat room full of a wild cast of characters like a Mexican with anger issues trapped in a loop of blowing up and recovery or an Arab who wired $50,000 to a 'Malaysian money manager' and spent most of his disposable income on escorts or a Swede who made songs about his and was obsessed with Romanian escorts or a Canadian who would repackage our findings into a seperate 'course' (he's still active).

In spite of this, we all had one thing that united together. The only thing I, at the time in my gap year with no idea how to spend money I had suddenly come across on. The primary motivation was always the same. Pettiness.

The primary goal was always calling it to the tick. Profits be damned.

This slight tangent came from memories triggered by babysitting a warrant. Annual reminder that crude oil contracts are "printed" out of thin air and only 1% of them are physically settled.

 

Let's talk about The Artist Formerly Known as Baby Buffett, Bill Ackman.
In what I assume has to be a midlife crisis, Ackman has decided to rebrand himself as the Jordan Peterson of the 2020s and is now always complaining. 

He's always been a whiner. It was tolerable when he was confined to whining on CNBC whenever he didn't get his way and was losing money (Perishing Squared Capital, LP). As a whole, the sector doesn't generate any alpha and the only skill they actually have is in raising capital. The former topic has been covered extensively.

The moral of the story is your very own inhibitions and morality are holding you back.