The Most Difficult Illusion To Spot

In the late 1950s, psychologist Milton Rokeach, gathered three psychiatric patients, each with the delusion that they were Jesus Christ, to live together for two years in Ypsilanti State Hospital to see if their beliefs would change.  Think of it as a more scientifically interesting Real World (where you put six twenty-somethings who have no career or other prospects in life together and see how long it takes them to either sleep with each other or hit each other).

As you can imagine, the early meetings between the three Jesuses (Jesusi?) were a little stormy.  Interestingly, none of them left those two years any less convinced of their own divinity.  When asked to explain the beliefs of the other two prodigal sons, the chief rationalization was that they were insane.  The point (outside of the production of some amazing interview transcripts) was to demonstrate the biases in peoples' perceptions.  Jesus was always willing to call the other Jesus crazy while insisting that they themselves were... well... Jesus.

My first portfolio manager out of undergrad tried to teach me to never apply my own beliefs to my investment thesis.  The idea that I would act in a certain manner and then extrapolating that to a data-set.  He stressed this by walking backwards from the world population down to me employing a very short list of metrics.  The point was, you and your thought process was the minority.  I will never forget that lesson, which was of course vital in a Graham & Buffett framework of "is this business model dead or alive" kind of world.

The idea of both of these thoughts is that we often mislead ourselves based on a preference for ourselves and the familiarity of our own logic.  

It has been a rough morning in Los Angeles.  It has been a rough few months and a hell of a 2010 to wrap my head around.  The Hammer, The Delorian, The General & English have been tremendous in helping me sort through everything.  While the over-under on me remaining in Los Angeles gets more divergent by the day I do know that I have my head up and I am going into tomorrow with my eyes wide open.  No illusions for me.  I know what is real and what isn't and, god help me, I am going to fight for the former.

Word,

-I Heart Palindromes 

The Only British > American Inequality I Can Ascend

British Editorials > American Editorials

Exhibit A

My favorite excerpt:

Meanwhile, central defender John Terry finally arrived back in England's 18-yard box last night only to find that everyone else had gone home.

He eventually got out of the stadium after climbing over a fence.

Enjoy.

Jon says what's up,

-I Heart Palindromes

Angry Tiger

Life is not intended to always go smoothly, regardless of your advantages, you will eventually find ways to misstep.  Yes, it is usually your fault whether you accept that view of not.  There are occasions, however, where the universe is indeed mocking you openly.  Like when I get a phone call from a head-hunter about a senior hedge fund research position at Russell Investments.  Cute universe, real cute.  It is good to know that you haven't forgotten about me.  Neither here nor there.

The mass of the world and the data within it statistically ensures that odd coincidences will present themselves.  The extent to which you notice them will be some non-linear function of your aptitude and your free time.  I noticed this morning that my favorite place to go in Los Angeles (that isn't closely related with Boondock) is named Neptune's Net, while my favorite restaurant in the city of Boston is named Neptune's Oyster and one of the firms that I turned a job offer down from on my way out of undergrad was named Neptune Capital Management.  Also, that the last decision was because their portfolio manager was based out of London and I was convinced that they would eventually consolidate their New York office.  Forks in the road.

Neptune hat-trick aside, my attention diverts to the weekend.  I want to play golf, eat at Martha's in Hermosa, and revamp my iPod.  Tonight is scotch night with my newly Los Angeles-based friend St. Louis.  I should note that him and I once consumed all of the McCallan 18 at an establishment that had enough scotch to have a separate scotch list.  At a future date I would be given a complimentary lunch with my friend English because the waitress had evidently found it remarkable enough to remember despite my nearly year-long absence from Chicago.  That was all before St. Louis almost died.  Not in a "I can't believe we didn't die this weekend" kind of way but actually in a "at the age of 26 I spent nine months in the hospital and now I take a massive amount of pain medication in order to function" kind of way.  So what do we do to commemorate that tectonic shift?  We drink scotch, naturally.

This is why I am reading three books on the dynamics of networks right now.  It is a wonder anyone has ever dated me.

These are all mental diversions from what is really occupying 98% of the fraction of my brain that I actually use (that any of us actually use, I would note).  As is, of course, my foray into putting words on the inter-web.  Sometimes diversions are good, I am remembering how much I enjoy writing, for one.

My usual reaction to stresses is to close ranks.  I'm going to try the surrounded by people thing this weekend instead.  Old dog.  New trick.

Family Matters:
Boy loves girl next door.
Girl ignores boys advances.
Boy builds time machine.

Kriss Kross is gonna make ya make ya,

-I Heart Palindromes

Two Hours of Sleep + Emotional Distress + Haiku = ?

Wait a minute, wait a minute, I remember this one from the level three exam.  It has something to do with the non-parametric estimate of volatility, right?  The one that ignores any econometric convention?  Carry the emotional distress and divide by two?

For the past two months, just about every thought that has made its way through the synapses of my brain has been painfully serious.  I've spent weeks trying to solve problems bigger than any individual's problem-solving capacity (perhaps not George Washington... but definitely in excess of Barack Obama's and BP's combined).

I have been faced with decisions to be made about my immediate, intermediate and "I'm just happy to still be above ground" future.  I have prioritized and re-prioritized only to find the top slot to be filled by the same thing, something as static as it is seemingly intractable.  What does one do when faced with the highest risk being attached to the only reward that matters.  Hold on for dear life?  Check.  Not working yet?  Thanks for nothing William Forsyth Sharpe, despite having the whitest name of anyone born outside of Westminster post 1609 AD, you have failed to be of any use.  I can't seem to find anything else that has the same hold -- fate is not subtle when she is actually present.  Like an Ohio State fan in a super-market when Hang On Sloopy musak plays, she is hardly delicate.

My solution, as I run on an unexaggerated 120 minutes of sleep, is naturally to write Haiku about my favorite 1980's & 1990's television shows.  There is some quasi-exponential logic embedded in there, but I promise it makes sense.  Really, I just don't want to lose my ability to laugh at myself (or Mr. Belvedere for that matter).  For the first time in my life, the past 24 hours have made me realize that such a vital thing might actually be perishable.  Now that's a come-to-Jesus moment that only Touch-Down Jesus could rival.

note:  it upsets me that "Jesus" is corrected to be capitalized by spellcheck but "Mr. Belvedere" isn't. 

Supermarket Sweep:

an explosion of
matching white sneakers and bangs.
don't forget the hams.

Who's The Boss:

was tony danza
really fit for childcare? when
he did so much coke.

GUTS:

but one agro-crag.
early on-set puberty.
why was Mo British?

A-Team

I pity the fool.
Singular earing not gay?
the mohawk says all.

Alf

best writing around
is based on puppet that eats
cats? Sorry Darwin.

The Cosby Show

J-E-L-L-O.
Non-threatening black family?
Whitest show ever.

I could, and may do this all day.  I'm finding it terribly useful.

Go go gadget,

-I Heart Palindromes

Touchdown Jesus

Usually I try to add something by way of commentary.  But this, shall stand alone.

http://news.cincinnati.com/article/20100615/NEWS01/306150004/Jesus-statue-destroyed-by-act-of-God

Enjoy,

I Heart Palindromes

Credit Where Credit is Due

As I am more than well aware, I complain about living in Southern California to an annoying extent.  I stand steadfast in my overall assertion that net-net, the soul-crushing amount of plaid alone is enough to support this viewpoint.  I will, however, admit when California has gotten the best of me.

My day today consisted of getting to work at the "Ohio State" crack of dawn.  New York hours, you have yet to get the best of me.  The difference for today, is that I left the office thirty minutes after the market closed (1:30 PST).  I proceeded to LA Country Club where I squeezed in eighteen holes of golf with Uncle Awesome.  I made my way home for a run along the beach in 85 degree weather, in which my path is framed by the Pacific to one side, the Santa Monica cliffs to the other, Malibu in the distance and Santa Monica Pier in the background.  Not to diminish that my evening is going be capped with a kickball game on Venice Beach in which I have been sternly instructed to bring "champagne, or PBR... or both".  Just in case you were curious, the length of said kickball game is governered by the rule that "the game will be played until the sun touches the horizon of the Pacific."  This is my new favorite way to measure time.

To make matters more enjoyable I was stopped at the tail-end of my run by two Irishmen who wanted to know if I knew of a good bar to watch the four AM World Cup starts.  I was told by them that I looked like a reasonable drinker (flattery will get you everywhere).  Thanks to Uncle Awesome, I happen to know of a bar in Venice that is the colorful haunt of a number of Irish ex-pats specifcally during World Cup viewing.  I know that when those two walk into a bar tomorrow, before the sun comes up, to find it packed with thirty of their domesticated brethren, that karma will be on my side for the day.

I should also mention that my week in sports has included a Blackhawk's Stanley Cup, a US World Cup split with England, and a performance by Ted Lily to close the weekend that left him two outs from a No-No against the White Stockings (the only team in baseball to ever be banned from... baseball).  Let us also not forget the incredible run by the UCLA women's softball team on ESPN-the-Ocho.  Right.

I even came home to the below in my mailbox courtesy of my friend AIG.

In summation; I am happy.  I might even miss this is place once I leave.  Wait?  I Heart Palindromes miss Southern California?!  You're right, let's not get carried away...

...But I thought, nah forget it, yo holmes to Bel Air,...

-I Heart Palindromes

Thank You for the Hardware Lord Stanely

Yes, even in the distant land of Beverly Hills, Patrick Kane's physics defying goal captivated.  There was also the soul crushing defeat for Philadelphia Flyers fans (oh the consonance) who were once again confronted with the intractable reality that they do, indeed, live in Philadelphia.

This post's length will be limited by a confluence of the amount of scotch that was consumed by our party post 'Hawks victory, paired with the fact that I am on New York hours (Goooood morning Mr. Market) but live in Los Angeles. I will revisit the balance of the evening another time. The only thing missing from the victory last night was... well... Boondock. That or actually capturing a picture of Coach Q smiling, though I think that might threaten the whole space-time continuum thing.

Enjoy yourself Chicago.  Hoist it!

Da na na na na....

-I Heart Palindromes

"At His Peak, Manny Ramirez Accounted For 27% of Boston's GDP"

Part I:

I spent twenty minutes at a bar in The Fenway during the Celtics v Lakers game protesting the above point with strangers.  I am fairly certain that, by the end of the night, I had acquired fairly robust support for this view.

... and thus was the motif of the few days spent running around the smaller of the two corrupt US Irish/Italian Catholic cities.  I should note that the bulk of my time was spent with a friend that we will refer to as junior investment banker (which is probably the least anonymous handle I could give him for anyone who knows my group of friends).  This statement will serve as instant and exhaustive proof as to how my trip included (but was not limited to): playing golf in a thunderstorm, drinking champagne in a bar above a fried-dough shop in coastal New Hampshire... at ten in the morning, having to endure extensive Lady GaGa (I'm not really positive on the capitalization convention there) in the backseat of junior investment banker's dub-complete HSE, as well as the usual junior investment banker bar performance ("...oddly enough I was on my way to yoga as well... what are the odds?).

Net-net it was a good weekend (as most outside of Los Angeles prove to be).  I will expand on the above at a later date with mercifully minimal photographic evidence.  I promise.

I do, however, have a photo for your Los Angeles data-point of the day.  To the left you will find the car that, as of my return from Boston, resides in the neighboring parking spot in my building.  I will note that this spot belongs to my neighbor and his girlfriend; a struggling musician and graduate student, respectively.  There is nothing terribly shocking about finding a $119,000 MSRP car parked in my parking garage.  Alas, despite being solidly in the top 1% of income earners in the wealthiest country in the history of, well... history -- I am unequivocally the poorest white person to ever live in Los Angeles.  The real surprise comes when you consider that, up until yesterday and today, they drove a red Honda Civic that they were incapable of parking appropriately between the two white lines.  I know what a lot of you are thinking:  there must be some plausible explanation that doesn't involve them suddenly trading in the Civic for a super-charged Mercedes.  I am going to do the leg-work to clarify that concern, but I would beg of you to note that I do live in Los Angeles... where that exact scenario is actually the most probable reality.

Los Angeles: 5,376 -- I Heart Palindromes: 0

Finally, I briefly draw your attention to the result of what I can only imagine is the single least accurate mailing list ever executed:

Speechless.  "Friend!"

That is, unfortunately, where the fun ends in this one folks.  Prepare for some self-reflection (now would be a good time to instead direct your attention to the awe-inspiring genius of http://brosicingbros.com/)

Part II

"To be always fortunate, and to pass through life with a soul that has never known sorrow, is to be ignorant of one half of nature." -Seneca 45 AD

While the trip to Boston could be roundly described as a success.  The last twenty-four hours or so could, perhaps, be best correlated to a Kanye West song with a stolen beat and retro-refrain (largely predictable but none-the-less disappointing and distinctly painful).  While it would appear that my willingness to share things with Mr. Interweb has grown exponentially from "nothing" to "my sarcastic remarks about people that are different than me" I don't think we are good enough friends yet for me to be anything other than obscure for the moment.

The thoughts that I do want to write down, in an effort to not allow time and hindsight to marginalize them, are the following:

1) I love my family and will miss them dearly when they are no longer here
2) I would do anything for my three best friends (The Hammer, The Delorian, and The General)
3) Boondock has been and will likely always be one of the most influential people that has ever come and gone in my life
4) At times, all of the loyalty and commitment in the world will not be rewarded by fate
5) There is a certain power in embracing an uncertain future
6) I would not trade the last two years of my life for anything for the sake of how they have changed me for the better
7) It is possible to both disagree with a decision and yet still respect it

All of these things, I am more aware of than I was yesterday, and for that I am grateful.

I believe that exceeds my self-imposed melodrama limit for the year.  That is good news for all parties involved.

Looking forward to the 'Hawks game this evening (GO HAWKS!) and some time in the non-Los Angeles-parts-of-California with friends this weekend.

I'm Spent,

-I Heart Palindromes

Thank You Captain Obvious

I have a whole host of things to post from my nearly-week-long jaunt back to a certain Midwest town, that begins with a C, ends with an O, and in the middle spells "hicag".  If you catch my drift.

Unfortunately, being sans Bloomberg terminal for that long, means I am currently drowning in back-logged news, research, and Gary Coleman death jokes from heartless traders.  As an example:  please find below "Gary Coleman's Casket".  Too soon?

I did, however, want to share one piece of LA-ness, that I was greeted with while reading the LA Times during my shoe-shine this afternoon.  This was the scene on the lower portion of the front page of the paper.

Just to be entirely clear (in case you're having trouble making this out).  The first line of this beautiful piece of journalism reads "Former Marine-Turned Rastafarian Joseph Dillberti" let us pause.  Please, everyone, say that phrase out-loud.  Seriously, just once.  What is "a phrase that could only be published in a newspaper in California for $1,000 Alex"?  Then comes the true pinnacle of this hard hitting human-interest piece.  The line continues ", left".  Yes, the LA Times just identified which man in this photo is the "Marine-Turned Rastafarian".  Thank you for that clarification, I would have been befuddled otherwise.  Could you also identify the officer of the peace in this scene?  I see the uniform but I am just not positive. 

Los Angeles: 5,375 -- I Heart Palindromes: 0.

Thank you for letting me get that out there inter-web.  Without my partner in judgement (we'll call her Boondock from here on out) you will have to do.

Too Legit, To Legit To Quit,

-I Heart Palindromes