Showing posts with label Folly. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Folly. Show all posts

Tuesday, November 18, 2014

What Is It Like to Be a Banker?

Oh sure, blame the bat. What the heck, we’re easy targets.
Conscious experience is a widespread phenomenon.

— Thomas Nagel, inveterate optimist

Whilst conducting primary research into the ontological foundations of metaphysical epistemology recently, O Dearly Beloved, Your Dilatory and Shockingly Remiss Correspondent happened upon a previously unpublished draft of Thomas Nagel’s seminal paper, “What Is It Like to Be a Bat?” I found upon examination of the disintegrating foolscap moldering in dank archives that this eminent philosopher had initially attempted to frame his gedankenexperiment with an empathic exercise even more challenging than imagining himself to be a member of the genus Microchiroptera. Given its patent interest for the history of analytical philosophy and its relevance to issues of concern cognate to this blogsite, I thought I would share the pertinent excerpt with you:
I assume we all believe that bankers have experience. After all, they are human beings, and there is no more doubt that they have experience than that accountants or baristas or firemen have experience. I have chosen bankers instead of lawyers or politicians because if one travels too far down the phylogenetic tree, people gradually shed their faith that there is experience there at all. Bankers, although arguably more closely related to us than those other examples, nevertheless present a range of activity and a sensory apparatus so different from ours that the problem I want to pose is exceptionally vivid (though it certainly could be raised with other species). Even without the benefit of philosophical reflection, anyone who has spent some time in an enclosed space with an excited banker knows what it is to encounter a fundamentally alien form of life.

I have said that the essence of the belief that bankers have experience is that there is something that it is like to be a banker. Now we know that most bankers (investment bankers, to be precise) perceive the external world primarily by money sense, or moolah-location, detecting the reflections, from monetary instruments or securities within range, of their own rapid, subtly modulated, high-frequency shrieks. Their brains are designed to correlate the outgoing impulses with the subsequent jingling or rustling of exchangeable claims to value, and the information thus acquired enables bankers to make precise discriminations of denomination, fungibility, composition, and theft-prevention protections comparable to those we make by vision. But banker money sense, though clearly a form of perception, is not similar in its operation to any sense that we possess, and there is no reason to suppose that it is subjectively like anything we can experience or imagine. This appears to create difficulties for the notion of what it is like to be a banker. We must consider whether any method will permit us to extrapolate to the inner life of the banker from our own case, and if not, what alternative methods there may be for understanding the notion.

Fortunately for the history of analytic philosophy, Professor Nagel apparently abandoned this initial foray as unworkable and, frankly, too outrageous and incomprehensible for anyone but specialists in the study of Homo investmentbankerensis. His revised paper, reframed to less ambitious dimensions, seems to have gone on to some renown, notwithstanding his execrable timidity.

Fortunately for you and everyone like you, I am led to believe there is a minor blogsite located somewhere in cyberspace which tackles these recondite issues head on. Perhaps you can drop me a postcard if you find it.

By the way, is that a $20 bill in your pocket?

© 2014 The Epicurean Dealmaker. All rights reserved.

Friday, October 3, 2014

Farewell, Ghafla Distraction

What is the airspeed velocity of an unladen swallow?
“Aha! Now we see the violence inherent in the system!”

— Monty Python and the Holy Grail

Yes, it’s true: I’ve left Twitter.

No special reason. All of a part with my reasons for terminating this blog,1 which boil down to being tired of it. I no longer get enough out of the service to merit the near constant immersion and distraction which it seems to elicit from me. I have better uses for my time. And the more substantive readings and links of interest which used to attract me I have sourced otherwise through RSS feeds, so I no longer need to wade through reams of banal tweets on unemployment data, fluctuating bond yields, and the latest outrage du jour of anarcho-social-media-ites to find them.

Of course I am sorry to leave those few friends I have made on Twitter behind. But let’s be frank: there aren’t that many of you, and all of you will get along just fine without me. Besides, if you’re a true friend who’s not a complete mental incompetent, you already know or can find my email address, which remains the same. Those of you who can’t, well, there’s always Kim Kardashian and Justin Bieber. Like your parents, they will always love you and never leave you.

No, really.

1 And no, this does not count as a blog post, except in those pathetic excuses for autofellation some of you frequent elsewhere. My posts have substance. This is a notice, for pete’s sake.

© 2014 The Epicurean Dealmaker. All rights reserved.

Monday, February 10, 2014

Gedankenexperiment

Science is fun!
Do you wrestle with dreams? Do you contend with shadows? Do you move in a kind of sleep? Time has slipped away. Your life is stolen. You tarried with trifles, Victim of your folly.

— Dirge for Jamis on the Funeral Plain, from “Songs of Muad’Dib” by the Princess Irulan
— Frank Herbert, Dune

I learned a very interesting fact today, O Dearly Beloved. Apparently, if you select a random entry from the online encyclopedia of human knowledge known as Wikipedia and click on the first linked term in the top entry and each linked entry thereafter (aside from italicized preambles and parenthesized definitions), there is a very strong likelihood that within a finite number of links you will arrive at the Wikipedia entry on “Philosophy.” Some intrepid soul has actually scrubbed the Wikipedia data and determined that this interesting phenomenon obtains almost 95% of the time. By comparison, the next highest source link incidence (at less than 2%) is what is known as a “red link,” or a link which leads exactly nowhere within the Wikipedia database.

This is a strongly suggestive result, and in my opinion it carries interesting implications for those public intellectuals who would like to assert that philosophy is dead, or at least meaningless, in comparison, say, to the ineluctable juggernaut which is Science. This, attentive members of my audience will recall, is a topic of some little interest to me.

Therefore, as a public service to you, My Loyal and Esteemed Readership, I decided to perform my very own small experiment in this regard to check this provocative hypothesis against the facts of the matter. In order to summarize my results, I have defined a specific terminology and notation to represent the structural remove of any Wikipedia entry from philosophy. This concept I hereby label the Wikipedia Degree of Remove from Philosophy, and I designate it with the notation Pwn, where n is the degree, or number of clicks on first entry links it takes to get from the Wikipedia entry in question to the one on the Philosophy.

First, as a sort of control, I investigated the primary Wikipedia link tree of Professor Stephen Hawking, that indisputably accomplished physicist and cosmologist who has asserted more than once that philosophy is dead or worse, irrelevant. My working hypothesis was that Herr Doktor Hawking would have a very high degree of remove number, given his brilliance and success in the realm of science. The empirical link tree results were as follows:
  • Stephen Hawking —> theoretical physics —> physics —> natural science —> science —> knowledge —> fact —> proof (truth) —> necessity and sufficiency —> logic —> reason —> consciousness —> quality (philosophy) —> property (philosophy) —> modern philosophy —> philosophy
which gives our esteemed subject a WDRP of fifteen, or Pw15. Of course, this gives our intrepid philosophy denier quite the benefit of the doubt, for if we stopped our degree of remove calculation at the first instance of a specifically philosophical entry—viz., “quality (philosophy)”—Dr. Hawking’s figure would rather be Pw12. But who are we to split hairs in such an investigation? For all we seek, Dear Readers, is the undeniable empirical truth.

Then I attempted to calculate similar WDRPs for a not-quite random selection of other Wikipedia entries, just for comparison. My results were as follows:
which is sort of odd, when you think about it. For it means that the crowdsourced experts of Wikipedia classify one of the most renowned theoretical scientists of our age at the same remove from the general topic of philosophy as an eggplant, and closer to same than a banana, romantic love, or kiwifruit. The only random entity in our limited sample set closer to philosophy in Wikipedia’s taxonomy is author, New Atheist, and neuroscientist Sam Harris, which is also intriguing given his rejection of great swathes of the discipline in favor of a concentrated scientific reductionism. (I presume none of us will be confused by the result that Glenn Beck is several orders further removed from philosophy than a banana or kiwifruit.)

Now, I admit these are highly selective and tendentious data points, and I am sure our committed devotees of scientism and reductionism will reject them out of hand as not dispositive. However, I would note such skeptics might find their naive and touching faith somewhat shaken were they to replicate the research above themselves, for they would then find every single one of those entries leading inexorably, through no matter how many Glenn-Beckian twists and turns, straight to the core Wikipedia entries on “Knowledge” or “Natural science.” From which it is but a hop, skip, and a short jump to the realm of philosophy.

But anyone not blinkered by their expertise should not be surprised at this result. The Wikipedia entry on Philosophy lays it out as clearly as can be:
Philosophy is the study of general and fundamental problems, such as those connected with reality, existence, knowledge, values, reason, mind, and language. Philosophy is distinguished from other ways of addressing such problems by its critical, generally systematic approach and its reliance on rational argument.
Philosophy is a foundational discipline, which underlies and transcends all forms of human knowledge, including that practiced by petty intellectual tyrants swanning about in lab coats. To claim that science does not depend upon philosophy, in at least an epistemological sense, is to claim that science stands outside the realm of human knowledge and thought itself. That it cannot be judged, analyzed, criticized, or challenged except on its own terms and with its own tools.

Which strikes me, at least, as a remarkably stupid and unempirical thing to say.1

Related reading:
A Foolish Consistency (February 5, 2014)
Our Glassy Essence (October 17, 2013)


1 The cleverer among you might object to this semi-serious diatribe with two points. First, the nature of Wikipedia begs the question, since its own editing conventions encourage article authors to set the stage for each entry with foundational definitions; that is, defining entities and concepts in the most general terms and context. In other words, the structure of Wikipedia itself is foundational and hence, in a very deep sense, philosophical. Therefore, linking down through foundational statements should naturally lead to the core concept of philosophy. Wikipedia itself is a form of philosophy. To which I answer: Correct. You have confirmed my concluding remarks. Second, you might say Messrs. Hawking and Harris’s structural Wikipedian proximity to philosophy shows that in fact they are offering their own form of philosophy. To which I again answer: Correct. That they are, but they themselves deny it. Who’s a blinkered idiot now?

© 2014 The Epicurean Dealmaker. All rights reserved.

Thursday, August 15, 2013

10 Reasons I’m Not Posting Anymore

Any questions?
1) I’m bored. — Nothing remotely interesting is happening in the world of finance to prompt my poison pen. Tapering? SEC and DOJ prosecutions of financial crimes? Jewelry thefts from billionaire tenements? Please.

2) Nobody has emailed me recently with any clever ideas to steal. — This usually reliable source of notions I can appropriate as my own and dazzle the assembled masses has dried up miserably. What’s the problem? Have you people gotten stingy on me or something?

3) Those items of finance news which are “happening” in the world are way above my pay grade. — Monetary policy? Insider trading jurisprudence? Vera Wang’s bracelet collection? I have trouble remembering to button my suit pants before I zip them. Give me something simple, like Jamie Dimon’s hat size. Or epistemology.

4) Nobody’s offered me a book deal. — What? You thought I wrote this shit out of the goodness of my heart?

5) I’m lazy. — So what? It’s summer. Give me a fucking break. None of my clients bothers to get into the office before eleven, either. (That’s if they’re not sipping mojitos on the deck of their beach houses by then.)

6) I’m busy. — Trying to get various clients and counterparties to shit or get off the pot already. I’m only writing this because I have nothing to do for the next 20 minutes but wait for a return phone call. Lots of hurry up and wait in my business.

7) I can’t figure out how to make slideshow listicles. — Anyway, the last two times I made a listicle you clowns only read one of them. Ungrateful wretches. I like pageviews, too.

8) I’ve already said everything I have to say. — About fifty billion times, too. Even I bore me.

9) Uh... I forget. — What? You expect an investment banker to know how to count? Or not overpromise and under deliver? Hahahahahaha. Silly rabbits.

See you in September. Maybe.1


1 No, no footnotes for you today. Go away.

© 2013 The Epicurean Dealmaker. All rights reserved.

Tuesday, June 18, 2013

Gone Fishin’

Peaceful lookin’, ain’t it?
No, not really.

I just thought I’d let faithful followers of this blog know that I’m not dead, and don’t expect to be anytime soon. But I really do have nothing to say on this site, for various reasons.

I mean, I’m sure if I reinserted a splintery pole up my ass or stuck my moistened fingers in an electrical socket I could get myself worked up about all sorts of ridiculous nonsense taking place every day in the news, but I’ve never admired or aspired to the life of an intellectual mayfly. And nobody ever listens to my constructive criticisms about financial regulation, educational reform, or the price of pig feet in China anyway.

Not that they should, of course. Free advice is always worth what you pay for it.

But for the nonce I’ve gotten tired of the under-appreciated labor of love that is this cut rate opinion emporium. So I’m just gonna sip an umbrella drink on a hammock under a coconut tree on this little atoll and wallow in my bloggy desuetude.

If you feel compelled to get in touch with me, feel free to leave a message after the beep. I never check them anyway.


© 2013 The Epicurean Dealmaker. All rights reserved.

Saturday, February 2, 2013

What’s Next?

Sometimes the most interesting perspectives come from unexpected juxtapositions
A beginning is the time for taking the most delicate care that the balances are correct. This every sister of the Bene Gesserit knows. To begin your study of the life of Muad’Dib, then, take care that you first place him in his time: born in the 57th year of the Padishah Emperor, Shaddam IV. And take the most special care that you locate Muad’Dib in his place: the planet Arrakis. Do not be deceived by the fact that he was born on Caladan and lived his first fifteen years there. Arrakis, the planet known as Dune, is forever his place.

— Frank Herbert, Dune


I began this blog slightly more than six years ago, O Dearly Beloved, for a vague and inchoate set of reasons I have outlined elsewhere and will not trouble you again with here. Over that span I have published 428 posts, excluding this one, and penned but binned or shelved almost a hundred more. Altogether I have sacrificed tens (if not hundreds) of thousands of innocent words to the monstrous appetite of my towering need to be heard. The range of material I have addressed here has been broad, too. So broad, one might legitimately question whether there is indeed either rhyme or reason to my writings. I have written lengthy treatises on the history and evolution of my industry, impassioned defenses of investment banker pay, excoriating jeremiads against villians great and small, diffident explorations of the roots of the financial crisis, self-indulgent ruminations on education, art, and philosophy, and ephemera and trifles too numerous and gossamer to mention. I have even written a movie review.

In almost all of these instances, my writing has been in reaction to current events, the behavior of financial actors, or the punditry and journalism produced by myriad others covering finance and various cognate and non-cognate fields. More often than not I write to correct, adjust, or amplify the words of others. A few of these efforts have evolved into online conversations, but most of them remain simply my own commentary and opinions. This is consistent with my original intent to model these pages as my very own Letters to the Editor section, wherein I could publish my opinions on current affairs without the tiresome blockage or interference of editors and other less-than-sympathetic characters.

But while I have achieved some small measure of success in this way, I would be dishonest if I did not reveal that I have become increasingly disenchanted with this situation. Part of this may be due to the siphoning off of my day-to-day outrage and commentary into my Twitter stream, which I find more than adequate to puncture or correct most of the petty inaccuracies and foibles I encounter. Part of this, for sure, is due to fatigue. After six years and hundreds of thousands of words on various topics, I find it hard to say anything new and tiresome to beat back a bad argument or sloppy facts with the same reasoning I have elaborated many times before. While it is certain I have changed my mind on many topics and my opinions in many areas have evolved, when it comes to the bulk of what I have written, I remain satisfied that I have written—if not the last word—at least very close to my last word on the topic. But as I am sure you can imagine, simply linking to prior published posts in reaction to new events and new opinions would be both bad blogging practice and stultifyingly boring.

So I am considering what, if anything, to do next. I modestly think there is a lot of good, interesting, and informative material hidden in the bowels of these pages, much of which I wrote before more than 13 people and their dogs became regular readers. I flatter myself that this material, properly edited, might actually generate some interest among a broader audience. But the blog format is a lousy method to present it, especially to a novice reader, since blogsites create online files which look more like unordered lecture notes than coherent arguments. Should I try to compile some edited subset of these writings into a book? The idea is intriguing, but I am conscious of both the extensive effort that would require on my part—who, sadly, still needs to satisfy the demands of my day job—and the ever-dimming prospects of book reading and book publishing in general.

I have come to no conclusions yet, and this navel gazing of mine may come to a screeching halt with the first outrageous idiocy I encounter on the internet which absolutely demands a double-barreled TED takedown. But I thought it only fair to let you, Dear Readers, many of whom have followed me for years with little to show for your patience, know what I am thinking.

Blogs, like many things, have a natural lifespan. I am trying to determine whether the next stage for this one is the morgue or a chrysalis.

I will keep you informed.

Possibly related reading:
A Heartbreaking Work of Staggering Hubris (April 15, 2009)


© 2013 The Epicurean Dealmaker. All rights reserved.

Tuesday, January 8, 2013

Wherein Your Droll, Semi-Victorian Bloggist Jumps the Shark

Feel free to stare. Yes, I'm handsome and modest, too.
Let it never be said, O Dearly Beloved, that your Curmudgeonly Interlocutor is loathe to trot out his sesquipedalian stylings for the benefit and punishment of the broader world at large. Approach me in a suitably submissive and humble manner, bearing burnt offerings of fruit bats and breakfast cereals, and there is no telling what pearls of wisdom I might let drop from my coruscating lips.

Such were the tactics of one Charles Reinhardt, intrepid reporter from the literary hinterlands of Brooklyn, who approached me on behalf of his employer and online literary magazine Volume 1. Brooklyn. I must admit I initially considered his proposal of interviewing a semicoherent apologist for the financial industry on behalf of his distinctly hip, educated literary audience an intriguing, albeit unorthodox (and perhaps ill-conceived) project. But I am not immune to flattery. And I must own that the hook was set when I subsequently viewed his employer’s motto on the website:
If you’re smart, you will probably like us.

Well, of course then.

In any event, Mr. Reinhardt served up several appropriately non-financial softball questions for me to toy with, and toy with them I did. A sample:

How did the blog start?
The beginnings of my blog are shrouded in the mists of internet time. I dimly recall beginning to read certain online blogs like Marginal Revolution, Calculated Risk, and Going Private in the 2005-2006 timeframe and thinking–if not exactly that I could do that myself–that it might be quite nice to have my own soapbox. Part of it, I suppose, was driven by the sense I had that few people commenting or reporting online actually knew what the hell they were talking about when it came to finance. I thought I could actually add something valuable–or at least factual–to the conversation. Part of it was undeniably driven by boredom with the quotidian concerns and demands of my profession which, I am the first to admit, can be staggeringly sterile, routine, and blinkered. And part, of course, was driven by a desire to test whether I could write entertaining and informative prose, bolstered by the narcissistic conviction that I could. I started blogging in January 2007, and the world has been suffering miserably ever since.

There is much, much more. Go read it.

And if enough of you flatter my ego by reading it, I just may cancel my new project of selling artisanal cupcakes in Williamsburg on the weekends. Then again, maybe I won’t. I’m beginning to dig my new hipster cred.

Related reading:
Charles Reinhardt, The Bookish Banker: An Interview with The Epicurean Dealmaker (Volume 1. Brooklyn, January 8, 2013)


© 2013 The Epicurean Dealmaker. All rights reserved.

Wednesday, November 21, 2012

Goodwill Hunting

Just shoot me
I try to maintain my equanimity, O Dearly Beloved. I really do.

I make every effort to exercise regularly, eat healthy food, and maintain my legendary composure by adhering to a strict drug and alcohol regimen sketched out on a bar napkin in 1962 by Hunter S. Thompson himself. But every so often, some ill-advised knucklehead will publish, under the aegis of a purportedly respected publication, such toxic, ridiculous, and misleading nonsense that I simply must respond with decisive and overwhelming force.

Today’s example hails from the eponymous financial newssite of Gotham City’s favorite sesquibillionaire mayor and short-man-about-town, Mike Bloomberg. In it, the award-winning [sic] financial journalist Jonathan Weil ventures the following thesis for the entertainment and edification of his hapless readers:
Here’s the problem with Hewlett-Packard Co.’s explanation today for why it took an $8.8 billion writedown related to its purchase of Autonomy Corp.: The numbers don’t make sense.
He then spends the next nine paragraphs making sure the numbers don’t make any sense and befuddling the naive and inexperienced among his audience into a state of utter confusion matched only by his own apparent cluelessness. Chief among his complaints seems to be that he doesn’t understand how HP can write down over $5 billion of value due to allegedly dodgy accounting associated with Autonomy when the latter had pre-acquisition assets totalling only $3.5 billion. He also seems very suspicious of the $6.6 (later $6.9) billion of goodwill Hewlett-Packard recorded when it purchased Autonomy, writing that
HP recorded the goodwill because it knew Autonomy’s identifiable assets were worth much less than it paid.
The implication being, of course, that HP actually knew it was “overpaying” for Autonomy at the time and that the current writedown is really just HP acknowledging the inevitable.

Call me crazy, but I have to believe there are some among you who might agree with me that it seems reasonable a journalist tasked with covering financial markets, stocks, and corporate finance should have at least some basic understanding of public accounting rules and merger math. Or at least the time, resources, and ambition to find out. Apparently we would be wrong.

So, in the interest of trying to rescue some of the well-meaning ignoramuses who have been happily educated into insensibility by Mr. Weil’s folly, I will try to provide a mini-primer on purchase accounting. In the course of this, I believe I can demonstrate that, indeed, Hewlett-Packard’s recent accounting writedowns make perfect sense.

* * *

Chief among the conceptual foundations of merger math which we must address is the distinction between enterprise value and book value, or true value and accounting. Most mergers and acquisitions are done to acquire operating businesses, not merely a laundry list of assets. Just like the real value of Apple Computer cannot be reduced to its Cupertino real estate, the inventory in its factories and stores, and the office supplies in its employees’ desks, the real value of an operating business lies in the way its management and employees use those assets, their knowledge, and their company’s brand and reputation to earn income. That is what a business acquirer will pay for.

How much an acquirer will pay for a business is determined in the course of merger negotiations by reference to comparable companies trading in the public markets, comparable M&A transactions, and the projected discounted future cash flows of the target business, overlaid by the competitive dynamic of the sale process. At the end of the day, the acquirer pays what it decides owning the target business and its associated cash flows would be worth to it, moderated by what it has to and can afford to pay. The book value of assets on the target company’s balance sheet has nothing to do with it.

Once the ink has dried on the purchase agreement and the checks have cleared, however, the accountants move in to memorialize (or embalm) the transaction in their own special way. They review the balance sheet assets and liabilities of the target company to determine their fair market value at the time, which more often than not is different from their recorded book values.1 Tangible assets like receivables, inventory, real estate, fixtures, and office supplies are valued at replacement cost or nearest appropriate market value and recorded in the opening balance sheet. Then the gnomes attempt to quantify the value of discrete and identifiable intangible assets like patents, customer lists, brands, and other intellectual property: all the assets you cannot put your finger on but you know are essential to generating the ongoing revenues and cash flows of the business. Add these together, and you have all the tangible and intangible assets which can show up on a balance sheet. Subtract that total (less the fair value of operating liabilities like accounts payable) from the amount of money you paid for the business and, presto, you get goodwill: the accountants’ remainder account where they memorialize the premium to the target’s net tangible and intangible assets the acquirer paid for the business. Goodwill can be seen as the difference between the full operating value of a business—as paid at one point in time by a third party buyer in a specific arms length transaction—and the fair value of the net operating assets its managers and employees use to run it.

So when Hewlett-Packard decided to write down the value of its investment in Autonomy, it did not inventory paper clips. It revalued the remaining intangible assets on its balance sheet acquired from Autonomy, based on their newly-determined earning power, and it revalued the goodwill of the total business based on its revised understanding of its overall cash generating capability. If Autonomy did indeed misrepresent the earning power of its business as HP alleges, goodwill would be the exact account where you would expect to see writedowns.

Autonomy misrepresented its gross profit margin and also falsely created or miscategorized more than $200 million in revenue over a two-year period starting in 2009, John Schultz, Hewlett-Packard’s general counsel, said in an interview. Autonomy was reselling Dell Inc. computers and counting those sales as software revenue, he said. Some sales were also fabricated through resellers.
When your view of the value of a business or collection of assets changes, accounting rules compel you to revise any associated goodwill account to reflect this new information. This is not that difficult a concept to grasp or convey.2

I just wish our financial press corps was better at educating the public about such things, rather than muddying the water because they’re too lazy to figure it out beforehand.

* * *

UPDATE November 21, 2012: Ugh. Apparently Jonathan Weil has not heard of the Law of Holes:

When you find yourself in a hole with a shovel in your hand, stop digging.
He has released another post today in which he throws about random balance sheet, income statement, and market value numbers from Hewlett-Packard’s accounts without the least apparent understanding of what any of them mean or their most basic interrelationships. He is trying to make the argument that HP massively overpaid for Autonomy in the first place, and that the admittedly skimpy numbers which the former has released in connection with its writedown announcement do not seem to disprove his thesis. He may be right, for all I know. I do not know and I do not care.

But when he spews forth idiotic, misleading dreck like this, my ears begin to smoke:
HP finished the fiscal third quarter with $32 billion of shareholder equity. Its balance sheet showed $36.8 billion of goodwill (which isn’t a saleable asset) and $8 billion of other intangible assets. By comparison, HP finished the fiscal fourth quarter on Oct. 31 with a stock-market value of $27.2 billion.

In other words, on paper, HP’s goodwill supposedly was worth more than the company as a whole
[emphasis mine]. The market knew big writedowns were necessary. Investors saw that Autonomy was a disaster. They were just quicker to acknowledge the reality than HP was.
No, no, no, no, NO. No, you numbnuts. Goodwill is a balance sheet account, based on historic book value with periodic testing to check that it is still valid. It bears no direct relation to what the company is worth at all.

And the worth of the company is not equal to the market value of its common equity, except in the most trivial of cases. The company’s worth, or value—known among people who actually work with this concept for a living, like me and, oh, a billion other non-idiots as total enterprise value—consists of the market value of common equity plus the market (or book) value of debt and other capital liabilities less cash on hand. In HP’s case, at the end of its 2012 fiscal third quarter, this was $27.2 billion + $29.7 billion – $9.5 billion, or $47.4 billion. At July 31, 2012, Hewlett-Packard as a whole was worth $47.4 billion. This, just to help Mr. Weil in case he runs out of fingers, is clearly more than $36.8 billion in goodwill. Which, by the way, doesn’t mean anything, just in case you were wondering.

You might argue that with my carping I am overreacting to Mr. Weil’s sloppy writing and thinking and missing his larger, potentially valid point about the poor rationale for HP’s purchase of Autonomy. But I am traditional enough to believe that a person who puts himself out there as a financial journalist who writes about M&A and corporate accounting issues for an international financial publication should fucking know a little about goddamn basic accounting.

Go ahead, call me cranky and unreasonable. I’ve been called worse by worse people.

And someone, please, buy Jonathan Weil a basic accounting textbook and make him read it before he writes again. My blood pressure will thank you.


1 Goodwill already on the target company’s balance sheet from prior acquisitions of its own, like the $1.5 billion in Autonomy’s pre-deal accounts, is written off at once. Of the remaining $1.9 billion of Autonomy’s pre-deal assets, over $700 million was cash and $600 million was other intangibles. Hewlett-Packard acquired very few tangible operating assets of any kind when it bought Autonomy.
2 I don’t have an opinion, by the way, as to whether HP’s allegation of accounting shenanigans is true or not. Autonomy’s former management disputes it. All I will say is valuation of intangible assets either in a sale transaction or on an interim basis and valuation of the long-term earnings power of a business where there is no concrete, objective reference point like a deal value to point to can be awfully squishy, subjective stuff. This, naturally, raises the question as to whether HP might be sandbagging its goodwill writedown to make future results look better. I have no special insight here, other than to note such an occurrence has happened many times before.

© 2012 The Epicurean Dealmaker. All rights reserved.

Monday, November 5, 2012

Get Up Offa That Thing

You know what to do
To VOTE tomorrow.

Why?

It is rational.

Not only is it rational, under certain circumstances it can be morally virtuous.

And, notwithstanding the preceding perspectives, it is a civic duty1 which is entirely reasonable and rational for the democratic society to which you putatively belong to expect you to perform. It is a voluntary, non-monetary tax, if you will, a donation of your time and inconvenience toward the common good from which you and the rest of your fellow citizens daily benefit.

Finally, regardless of your political or ideological affiliation, you must appreciate that the more people like you vote, the less likely our polity will be hijacked by the whackos, the unhinged, and the mentally and morally bankrupt members of the opposition.

Unless, of course, you are a member of said whackos, unhinged, etc. In which case I suggest you vote Thursday.

Happy Citizenship Day!


1 I am well aware, O Dearest and Most Indulgent of Readers, that duty is an unpopular word (and concept) in our current culture and society. I remain unapologetic in its use, and consider its unpopularity to be a stain upon the society which undervalues it, rather than a valid critique of the concept itself. Call me anachronistic if you will. I’ve been called worse.

© 2012 The Epicurean Dealmaker. All rights reserved.

Tuesday, September 18, 2012

The Laughing Policeman

Have you ever stood and stared at it, marveled at its beauty, its genius?
A society that admires its shock troops had better be bloody careful about where it’s going.

— John le Carré, A Perfect Spy

This picture is beautiful. Just beautiful.

It was posted earlier today by Twitter account @reclaimuc. I have no idea whether it was posed, photoshopped, or merely a serendipitous tableau. I have no idea why the policemen and woman in the picture are laughing. But the framing—capturing the police, the telephone booth ad, the TD Bank branch entrance, and the building address of Two Wall Street—is simply spectacular. As an extra bonus, and for extra frisson, the tonality of the photo perfectly evokes that in The Matrix movies. Urban photojournalism doesn’t get any better than this.

Kevin Roose of New York Magazine later tweeted to explain that the ad in the picture is a fake, designed to promote an upcoming series on Cinemax. This makes sense, as it seems unlikely any real organization would be so tone deaf as to publicly advertise its services in earnest in such a way.1 I don’t care.

Sometimes fate and fiction collide in such a way that the veil of dissembling and polite convention covering our everyday life is torn aside, revealing the slightly sordid truth beneath. It would be hard for anyone to pen a better exposé of the naked power structures undergirding the surface of my fair city in the Year of Our Lord Two Thousand and Twelve than this serendipitous little photograph.

Mayor Bloomberg must be exceedingly annoyed.


1 Although behavior by certain Presidential candidates recently exposed in the news does plant a seed of doubt in my mind as to just how clueless members of the plutocracy can actually be.

© 2012 The Epicurean Dealmaker. All rights reserved.

Saturday, June 30, 2012

Turn the Page

Not much for five and a half year's work, is it?
Truckin’, like the Do-Dah man.
Once told me you’ve got to play your hand
Sometimes your cards ain’t worth a damn
If you don’t lay ‘em down.

Sometimes the light’s all shinin’ on me;
Other times I can barely see.
Lately it occurs to me
What a long, strange trip it’s been.


— Grateful Dead, “Truckin’”


Well, ladies and gentlemen, it was bound to happen. Sometime around midday on this hot, quiet summer Saturday, some poor befuddled soul clicked a link that brought him or her to this site, thereby registering the one millionth visit to Your Humble Bloggist’s opinion emporium. The Earth continued to spin in its orbit, the sun continued to track across the sky, and—to the best of my knowledge—nobody reported hearing trumpet blasts signalling the beginning of the Interregnum. From these signs, I will venture to conclude that Life, indeed, Goes On.

It was slightly less than five and one-half years ago that your Masked Opinioneer first planted his standard in the sand of this new yet unapproachable internet. What began as a lark, a way to practice writing unrelated to my daily duties, and an editor- and copywriter-free zone for me to inflict my ideas and beliefs upon an unsuspecting world morphed into... well, frankly, not much more than that. Over the intervening years, the tone, topics, and breadth of material I have addressed here have changed, sometimes notably. But I still write because it is fun, I occasionally feel I have something useful to add, and to-date nobody has found an effective way to stop me.

Writing here has also opened me up to a broader range of insights and influences than I would otherwise have enjoyed as a blinkered member of the relatively cloistered and inbred society which comprises my personal and professional milieu. I have begun correspondence with a few individuals of apparent genius, whose knowledge and occasional wisdom has deeply enriched my own. And I am not reluctant to admit I have established a few close friendships as well, all with people whom I have never met in the flesh and likely never will.

* * *

What you, O Dear and Long-Suffering Readers, have gleaned from my self-indulgence is harder for me to discern. I hope I have contributed some valuable insights into the actual and proper functioning of the global financial system (two different things, sadly). I also hope I have introduced some of you to the work of writers, artists, and poets whom I find important touchstones and inspirations in my life. And finally I hope I have made some of you think a little more deeply about subjects outside of finance and markets with my occasional forays into more speculative and wider-ranging topics. Only you can decide whether I have succeeded in any or all of these objectives.

I do not kid myself that 1,000,000 visits over five and one-half years represents anything remotely approaching what a normal person would consider “popular,” or even influential.1 This has been a cottage blog site for me and my readers. However, I do take comfort that more than half of you have visited here more than once over the intervening years. Either I have offered something worth a return visit or two, or you have appallingly short memories for the distress I may have caused you in the past. Either way, I will take the credit.

What I cannot take credit for, however, are the vast waves of traffic which have been sent my direction by far more popular and influential writers and aggregators than me. My writing is difficult, obscure, tendentious, and exceedingly long—not to mention frequently plain wrong—so it is with gratitude that I acknowledge the generosity of such titans of the econoblogosphere as Felix Salmon of Reuters, Tadas Viskanta of Abnormal Returns, and Josh Brown of The Reformed Broker. They, along with far too many others to properly mention, have been the original and ongoing sources of the majority of traffic and regular readers I have gained over the years. Thank you.

And thank you, O Dearest and Most Misguided of All Readers, for flattering my self-indulgence with your attention over the months and years. While it may do no credit to your judgment that you actually read my scribblings, it reflects a naïve generosity of spirit and charming gullibility which is all the more valuable for being so rare in today’s cynical, hyper-sophisticated, and charmless world.

In closing, I am reminded of David Niven’s reaction at the 1974 Academy Awards when his introduction of Elizabeth Taylor was interrupted by a man streaking naked across the stage behind him:

“... isn’t it fascinating to think that probably the only laugh that man will ever get in his life is by stripping off and showing his shortcomings?”

If I have done nothing more than make you laugh at my shortcomings, Dear Reader, I will be a happy man.

Ta for now.

Related reading:
And in the spirit of self-indulgence, I have collected a few pieces on cognate topics below—some obscure, some less so—which you may find amusing, informative, or both. If you do not, feel free to leave your criticisms and suggestions in the Comments section following. (Oops.)

On pseudonymity: Do You Trust Me? (February 23, 2011)
On my writing habits and philosophy: Fragments (February 26, 2010)
On my appalling wordiness: A Tedious Argument of Insidious Intent (May 6, 2007)
On this blog’s founding mythos: Molon Labe (September 1, 2008)
On my occasional descent into naughty language: Not Safe for Work (April 25, 2008)
On everything else not elsewhere categorized: Welcome to Duloc! (April 21, 2009)


1 Editorial addendum by Mrs. Dealmaker: “Only five years? It seems like ten.” Everybody’s a critic.2
2 Perhaps now you understand why I prohibit comments on this site. Mrs. D does not need any help.

© 2012 The Epicurean Dealmaker. All rights reserved.

Sunday, May 27, 2012

Out of Office Autoreply: Where Are You, Dammit?!

I am out of the office until further notice and will have limited access to email and voice mail during my absence. For assistance with creative inspiration or questions of technical artistic execution, please contact my assistants Calliope or Thalia at (212) 555-1212 during office hours of 500 to 323 B.C.

Sincerely,

TED’s Daemon
Direct: (212) 555-1212
Email: TEDsdaemon6723@gmail.com




Elizabeth Gilbert wants you to fool yourself.

Of course this is a psychological dodge. A trick an artist can use on him- or herself to externalize the mysterious, elusive creative spark which offers and even more rarely delivers true transcendence. You don’t really think there is an invisible daemon who lives in the walls of your studio and sneaks out after you’ve gone to bed to breathe genius into your work, do you? An independent personality dispensing musical melodies who levitates over Los Angeles freeways while Tom Waits drives to the grocery store?

Well, no matter. Even if you do, this strategy is a clever ruse you can play on yourself. Identify an independent, capricious external entity with beauty and genius in her gift whom you can persuade, flatter, trick, and cajole into giving you what you want. A person whom you can negotiate with. This is something almost all of us know how to do, and it neatly avoids the desperate and fruitless struggle which modern artists feel they must make to wrest genius and inspiration from the tortured depths of their own soul. It also opens up a psychological space for failure, which is the daily accompaniment of every working artist. It’s not that you, personally—through sheer laziness, incompetence, or lack of talent—have been unable to deliver the inspiration which should be bubbling up merrily from your own unconscious. Instead, the problem is your flakey muse has split town again with that hipster loser from the gas station, just when you needed her most. Damn minx.

Strangely enough, this psychological model from ancient times may be closer to the truth than we realize. More and more research in neuroscience and the science of consciousness is implying that the unitary model of intentional consciousness—best visualized as a little homunculus sitting at the control panel of our brain, pulling levers and flipping switches in full awareness and with fully articulated intent—is a naïve and misleading fiction. More and more of what we have traditionally considered to be in the purview of our fully conscious, intentional mind, including conscious physical activity, judgment, and even decision-making, is being discovered to happen at pre- or subconscious levels in our brains. Even our personalities, which we like to pretend are stable and fully articulated identities, are likely to be more evanescent, contingent, and multifaceted things than we imagined, and certainly more so than most of us would like to imagine. It may be more accurate and useful to think of our mental life as a collection of impulses, reactions, thought, and intentions which cooperate with varying levels of input and intensity as we make our way in the world. A loose alliance of conscious, semi-conscious, and unconscious actors. A bundle of “me”s, as it were.

So who is to say that one or more of these fractious homunculi isn’t the very muse we are looking for? Who is to say the very genius of inspiration we chase after doesn’t already live in our heads, just as we have imagined him to do for the last 500 years? The only difference is he doesn’t really work for us, we have no way to communicate with him, and he only shows up if and when he damn well pleases.

I just hope my daemon genius isn’t that damn hipster loser at the gas station. Now that would be depressing.


© 2012 The Epicurean Dealmaker. All rights reserved.

Saturday, May 19, 2012

Behind the Wall

Pull harder, lads
“All visible objects, man, are but as pasteboard masks. But in each event—in the living act, the undoubted deed—there, some unknown but still reasoning thing puts forth the mouldings of its features from behind the unreasoning mask. If man will strike, strike through the mask! How can the prisoner reach outside except by thrusting through the wall? To me, the white whale is that wall, shoved near to me. Sometimes I think there’s naught beyond. But ’tis enough. He tasks me; he heaps me; I see in him outrageous strength, with an inscrutable malice sinewing it. That inscrutable thing is chiefly what I hate; and be the white whale agent, or be the white whale principal, I will wreak that hate upon him. Talk not to me of blasphemy, man; I’d strike the sun if it insulted me.”

— Captain Ahab, Moby Dick


Of course Captain Ahab was insane. Completely bonkers. This should be well and truly understood.

But what, after all, is an insane person but someone who has once and for all dropped the pretense the rest of us cling to, day after day, that the world does not make some sort of horrible sense after all?


© 2012 The Epicurean Dealmaker. All rights reserved.

Monday, March 26, 2012

Altar of a Minor God

Dow 36,000?
I break out into this declaration not because of a lurking tendency to megalomania, but, on the contrary, as a man who has no very notable illusions about himself. I follow the instincts of vain-glory and humility natural to all mankind. For it can hardly be denied that it is not their own deserts that men are most proud of, but rather of their prodigious luck, of their marvellous fortune: of that in their lives for which thanks and sacrifices must be offered on the altars of the inscrutable gods.

— Joseph Conrad, Heart of Darkness 1


Hubris has always been an essential crutch humanity has relied on in a hostile and indifferent world, a compensation and outgrowth of the fundamental attribution error which places each of us at the meaningful center of our own individual, disconnected universes. In the past, however, before the Committee on Right Thinking for Western Culture decreed that God was dead, many of us at least paid obeisance to the notion that there are powers and forces in the world greater than ourselves, and that our triumphs and defeats might be laid—at least in part—at the feet of some person or thing beyond our understanding or control.

Now, of course, we suffer no such restraint, and our metaphysics has regressed to a selectively primitive state. We attribute our successes to our own skills, perserverance, and attitude alone, and our failures to the malevolent workings of enemies or a malign fate. I suppose this is natural and unavoidable, but it seems to me that something has been lost.

For I have to say I am unimpressed—and unconvinced—by a god who only has bad luck in his gift. Even if we only call it Chance.


1 Joseph Conrad, Heart of Darkness. New York: Penguin Books, 1995, p. 10.

© 2012 The Epicurean Dealmaker. All rights reserved.

Saturday, February 25, 2012

Cogito, Ergo Whom?

I'll be damned if I sign up for five years as CEO with less than 12% of the equity.
Carlyle Group said Wednesday, Jan. 31, it reached a definitive agreement to acquire Philosophy Inc., a fast-growing brand of lotions and personal-care products, for an undisclosed sum.

The Phoenix-based company generates about $50 million in Ebitda and had been expected to sell for about $450 milion, according to investment banking sources.

— TheDeal.com


New York, February 1, 2007: The deal announced yesterday between private equity behemoth The Carlyle Group and Philosophy Inc. has kicked off a whirlwind of dealmaking and jockeying for position among leading private equity players in the fast-moving and lucrative philosophy sector. Mega-firms such as KKR, Apollo Management, and Texas Pacific Group are each rumored to be hiring dozens of industry experts and practitioners to build sector teams focused on finding investments in the industry.

“I haven’t seen anything like it since the panic to get into infrastructure last year,” claimed one senior private equity professional. “It’s insane.” Leading practitioners like Jerry Fodor of Rutgers University and Stanley Fish of Florida International University in Miami are rumored to be negotiating with competing financial sponsors to join as Philosopher-Executives-in-Residence for multi-year pay packages in excess of eight figures. Neither professor returned phone calls before press time, and officials at both universities refused comment.

The hiring frenzy has extended to less well-known industry participants also, as PE firms look to snap up junior resources with scarce industry knowledge and experience. Marvin Applestein, a third-year PhD candidate in philosophy at Harvard University, reported that he had heard of Assistant Professors specializing in esoteric fields like quantum epistemology being offered million dollar signing bonuses. “Even post-docs are getting in on the action. I’ve heard the Ferrari dealership in Cambridge is completely sold out,” he said.

The fever is apparently reaching across the pond to Europe as well. “I can’t talk now,” the head of Cambridge University Press’s Philosophy Section, Graham Smythe-Withers, commented earlier today, “Those bastards at Permira just swooped in and nicked my entire editorial staff, including the PAs!” Reached at a Heidegger colloquium at the University of Köln late yesterday, Permira Managing Partner Damon Buffini declined to comment. “It’s getting so bad, my friend Rudy at the Sorbonne tells me market demand for Sartre scholars might even resuscitate,” claimed Mr. Applestein.

“It’s no surprise that financial sponsors are finally taking a serious look at this industry,” commented Ralph Thomas, Senior Equity Research Analyst for Philosophy and Argumentation at Lehman Brothers in New York. “We have been bullish on this space for some time now.” Mr. Thomas notes that revenues and earnings have been climbing for most industry participants well in excess of 15% per year for the past five years, while earnings multiples for listed philosophy companies have failed to keep pace with the overall market. “We like a number of players, including large-cap companies like Kant AG and Descartes SA and mid-market participants Wittgenstein & Co. and Hume plc.” (Lehman Brothers does not provide investment banking services to any of these companies, and Mr. Thomas does not own shares in any of them, although he did take a course in Hegel once.)

“You can see why we’re all excited,” commented a senior partner at an un-named PE firm which is building its sector capability and looking for deals. “Dave [Rubenstein of The Carlyle Group] really snagged a sweet deal with Philosophy Inc. at nine times [EBITDA, or earnings before interest, taxes, disputation, and argumentation]. We would have been all over that deal, if we had had the resources two months ago.” The un-named partner noted that leveraged buyouts of philosophy companies, which primarily produce intangible assets, would have been extremely hard to finance just two years ago, due to traditional lenders’ unwillingness to lend against post-deal balance sheets consisting primarily of goodwill, free will, and radical skepticism. “Nowadays, I’ve got Stevie [Cohen, of hedge fund SAC Capital] on the phone every day, begging to lend me money for any ontology or metaphysics assets we can find.” Final details of Carlyle’s purchase of Philosophy Inc. cannot be confirmed, but preliminary reports indicate that selling advisor Houlihan Lokey offered potential purchasers stapled financing at seven times EBITDA.

Investment banks have seen the light, as well. Leading players such as Goldman Sachs, UBS, and Credit Suisse are currently in the process of building dedicated industry coverage teams focused on the philosophy sector in order to satisfy the booming demand for buy- and sell-side advice from corporations and private equity firms. “We are in the process of reallocating coverage bankers from the Healthcare and Consumer sectors into our Global Philosophy Group,” claimed Ken Moelis, President of UBS Investment Bank. “Given our strong lending capabilities and deep industry knowledge of Continental and Analytical Philosophy, we expect to become the leading advisor to corporations and financial sponsors in the space within the next 18 months.”

Some of his competitors beg to differ. “I sat in the same Michael Dummett seminar as Kenny when we were at Wharton, and let me tell you, Kenny may know his DCF [discounted cash flow], but he doesn’t have a clue about referential empiricism,” asserts Lloyd Blankfein, Chairman and CEO of Goldman Sachs.

For now, some market watchers say the safest bet may be to invest in the companies that sell picks and shovels to the miners of this new Gold Rush. Stacey Williams, Assistant Store Manager at the Barnes & Noble bookstore on Wall Street, reports that the store’s entire stock of Kierkegaard has been sold out for weeks. “Last week, a Columbia Business School professor brought his Advanced Accounting class of MBAs into the store just to show them where the Western Philosophy section was. It was kind of sweet. Most of those students hadn’t seen a humanities book since freshman year in college.”

NOTE, February 25, 2012: This crack piece of financial reportage was originally published on this site February 1, 2007. It has been slightly revised and rereleased for historical interest. Carlyle subsequently sold Philosophy Inc. for a profit, Lehman Brothers went out of business, and Ken Moelis left UBS to found an eponymous advisory firm. To the best of this reporter’s knowledge, David Rubenstein, Damon Buffini, and Lloyd Blankfein remain gainfully employed at their respective establishments. Subsequent to the feverish activity detailed in the original piece, the private market for philosophy assets collapsed back into its habitual desuetude, primarily due to European and American investors’ inability to agree on fundamental value. After failing to land a position at a private equity shop, Marvin Applestein departed the field of philosophy to become the 25th employee of an obscure start-up named Facebook, founded by another Harvard dropout. Mr. Applestein is currently looking forward to the imminent purchase of six Ferraris, each in a different color. Plus ça change...


© 2007, 2012 The Epicurean Dealmaker. All rights reserved.

Friday, November 4, 2011

Tort Reform

Overheard this morning at breakfast:
Lawyer #1: “Being a litigator is like cleaning the Augean Stables: it’s not particularly pleasant work, but you know you’ll always have a job.”

Lawyer #2: “That’s nothing. You should try representing investment bankers. It’s like being a streetsweeper in the Rose Parade: you have to deal with a neverending parade of horses’ asses, and you’re always cleaning up their shit.”

I love lawyer jokes. Especially when they’re told by lawyers.

Happy Friday.


© 2011 The Epicurean Dealmaker. All rights reserved.

Saturday, September 24, 2011

A Victim of Soycumstance

[The Stooges are about to attend a fancy ball]
Moe: “Now then, gentlemen, remember your etiquette.” [Gives both Larry and Curly a slap.]
Larry: “What’s that for?”
Curly: “We didn’t do nothin’!”
Moe: “That’s in case you do when I’m not around!”

— The Three Stooges


Bloomberg published a nice piece earlier this week which supports my long-held belief that the term “investment banking management”—like “military intelligence” or “legal ethics”—is, in the trenchant phrase of Raymond Chandler,1 “an expression which contains an interior fallacy.” In other words, an oxymoron.

Authors Michael Moore and Max Abelson do a creditable job illustrating how the toxic relationship between Colm Kelleher and Paul Taubman, co-heads of Morgan Stanley’s Institutional Securities Group (corporate finance and M&A, plus capital markets)2 is creating all sorts of fallout for that division. Kelleher is the hail-fellow-well-met Irish Oxford graduate who runs Morgan’s sales and trading operations, and Taubman is the weedy, quiet loner who leads the investment bankers. I have seen working relationships between similarly mismatched personalities work out very well over the course of my career, with complementary skill sets and different management styles combining synergistically to produce results beyond the capacity of either party alone. Of course, such success stories depend at their root upon the parties in question respecting each other’s different styles and abilities and working together explicitly for the greater good. This does not appear to be the case in this instance.

Interestingly enough, Morgan Stanley’s ISG seems to be turning out near-record results and taking market share, so a naive outsider might question whether its co-heads’ feud matters, or, what is more, might even be good for the division. Certainly this is what the Aspergers-addled technocrats who populate the executive ranks of most investment banks measure and value to the exclusion of all else, so I can understand how CEO James Gorman might consider his lieutenants’ squabbling an unimportant sideshow.

If so, he is dead wrong.

* * *

Put aside, for a moment, the not inconsiderable problem that the tension and infighting between Kelleher and Taubman is, sadly, the norm rather than the exception when it comes to interactions among senior executives at investment banks. This is much more than an issue of incompatible personalities. For one thing, investment bankers and traders who are hard-charging, capable, and, dare we say it, psychopathic enough to climb the slippery pole and get within reach of the top tend to have sharp elbows, short tempers, and little patience for those who oppose their wishes. Given furthermore that Taubman and Kelleher seem to have been put in implicit if not explicit competition for the top job, and the Bloomberg article indicates they both want it, such a set up would make it hard for Mother Teresa and her twin sister to get along.

Whatever its sources, the competition and bad blood at the top of their respective organizations cannot help but trickle down to Kelleher’s and Taubman’s subordinates. These will line up sensibly behind their leaders and take their tone of interaction with colleagues across the functional divide from the top, if only in the interest of self-preservation. This is Organizational Dynamics 101. The result will be inadequate communication, counterproductive political maneuvering, and willful lack of cooperation between investment banking and sales and trading at all levels. Traders will fall back into the venerable habit of regarding investment bankers as foppish, ineffectual parasites in suits, and investment bankers will resuscitate their ancient scorn for capital markets folk as barely literate, knuckle-dragging troglodytes. In addition to being unhelpful and untrue, such behavior never ends well.

For investment banks in general derive the greatest source of their power, value, and privileged position in the economy from the fact that they straddle the markets for capital, operating on both the supply and demand side. Investment banks serve the suppliers of capital—investors—by delivering new investment opportunities and products through underwriting new issues and originating new securities and by helping them reallocate their investment portfolios through making markets in securities and other financial instruments. This is done on the sales and trading, or capital markets, side of investment banks. Investment banks also serve the users of capital—corporations, governments, and the like—by selling their securities to investors and by helping them reallocate their business portfolios via mergers and acquisitions. This happens on the corporate finance and M&A, or investment banking, side of the same banks.

Each side of the bank derives a substantial part of its revenue, access, and value from the other side. Sales and trading and investment banking share information (subject to confidentiality restrictions), access to each other’s clients, and revenue from transactions arranged between them. Banks act as middlemen, and we make our daily bread by mediating transactions across the capital user–capital provider divide. This is core to what traditional investment banks do. It is a network business. Accordingly, anything which weakens the network—especially between capital markets and investment banking—seriously undermines the business.

I have sounded this warning before:

Notwithstanding what they like to tell you, investment bankers don’t really sell “ideas.” They sell connection, and access, and they are successful to the very extent they can maintain themselves in the flow of market information. Investment banks derive their market power and importance by maintaining dense and robust information networks across the numerous markets they participate in. This makes them better traders, better investors, and better advisors.

In the overall scheme of things, a successful bank should prefer to have strong networks, rather than strong bankers. Take a banker with excellent network connections out of his or her supporting environment, and he or she becomes dramatically less effective. Allow individual bankers to weaken the network by hoarding clients, refusing to communicate, or actively undermining their rivals within the firm, and you weaken the bank materially. Encourage the hiring and creation of “superstars,” and you shift power away from the bank into the hands of individual mercenaries. All of these things make an investment bank less valuable to its clients, as well.

I don’t care if Morgan Stanley’s investment bank had a blowout quarter. If Taubman and Kelleher are wasting time, energy, and opportunity pissing on each other’s shoes, they are fucking up. Morgan Stanley could do better.

* * *

Now I don’t mean to minimize the real structural conflicts between investment banking and sales and trading. They each serve different client bases with different needs and objectives. They each make money in different ways. The desires of their respective clients are rarely in sync, and sometimes the way each division makes money conflicts directly with the goals and profitability of the other. It is not so simple as one firm, one income statement.

Underwriting new securities is one area where corporate finance and capital markets cooperate directly, to source capital for issuers and sell securities to investors. But even there the alignment of interests is not complete. The corporate finance client wants to issue securities at as high a price as possible, and the capital markets clients want to buy low. This tension plays out daily in internal discussions between the bank’s departments, and believe you me it can get pretty heated on occasion. Market making is a capital markets business line independent of corporate finance, but it does have potentially positive (or negative) secondary effects on the latter, since a firm’s market position trading certain securities can affect whether bankers can win a particular piece of underwriting business or not. Be the number one trader of social networking stocks, for example, and your bank stands a good chance of leading Groupon’s IPO. Be number 15, and you can forget it. Corporate finance always wants sales and trading to make deep and active markets in certain areas, but capital markets often pushes back, because market making requires capital, and capital is expensive. The influence runs the other way, too: a bank which is active and successful in originating or underwriting securities in a particular market is far more likely to become the “axe” in that area. This drives greater sales and trading volume and, hence, greater capital markets profits. But if a bank has little track record issuing securities into a particular market, it becomes difficult for sales and trading to make money there independently.

You can see the potential for conflict even among pure agency business lines like underwriting and market making. This conflict is thrown in stark relief when an investment bank begins to assume a principal position in a particular trade. The example cited in the Bloomberg article is where Morgan Stanley’s capital markets group tries to sell derivatives in connection with a security underwriting, like interest rate or currency swaps on a bond issuance. But, as Bloomberg points out, while such a “deal can bring in significant trading revenue, it can also place the bank in the position of being a counterparty to a client it just advised.” Let me tell you something: as a corporate finance banker and advisor, this gives me the heebie-jeebies. I always worry my sales and trading guys are ripping my client off, and I shudder to think what would happen to the multi-million-dollar relationship I have carefully cultivated with my client over many years if things go pear-shaped. This is true of any transaction where an investment bank assumes the role of a principal—whether trading counterparty, lender, or direct investor. From a corporate finance banker’s perspective, the risk usually isn’t worth the potential gain, especially since all the profits from such proprietary trades seem to magically disappear into the capital markets budget before corporate finance gets its cut.

* * *

In fact, the organizational dynamic between a traditional investment bank’s sales and trading and investment banking divisions resembles nothing so much as an iterated prisoner’s dilemma. This is a game theoretic formulation of a situation in which two parties, who have some interests in common and some in conflict, must decide whether to cooperate or compete for desireable outcomes. Those readers among you who share little sympathy or liking for my profession will be delighted to learn that the traditional formulation used the example of two criminals:

Two men are arrested, but the police do not possess enough information for an arrest. Following the separation of the two men, the police offer both a similar deal—if one testifies against his partner (defects), and the other stays quiet (cooperates), the betrayer goes free and the cooperator receives the full one-year sentence. If both remain silent, both are sentenced to only one month in jail for a minor charge. If each ‘rats out’ the other, each receives a three-month sentence. Each prisoner must choose to either betray or remain silent; the decision of each is kept quiet. What should they do?

Sadly, perhaps, for those of you who would prefer all investment bankers to be thrown in jail, there is a fairly well-established solution to this dilemma, especially when it occurs over and over in an extended game of multiple rounds of unknown number. The best strategy appears to be a variation of “tit-for-tat,” in which a participant is nice, retaliatory, forgiving, and non-envious. I will leave it as an exercise for my Clever and Esteemed Readers to determine whether these behaviors strike you as consistent with the personality of your average investment banker.

In any event, the material point is that, like the traditional prisoner’s dilemma, the interaction between capital markets and corporate finance can, with proper focus and strategy, be elevated from the suboptimal, default outcome of mutual betrayal and non-cooperation into a stable, cooperative solution that benefits both parties. And if, in the case of Morgan Stanley (and investment banking generally), the participants are not wise, patient, or sensible enough to arrive at the best solution themselves, it is the job and obligation of senior management to drag them there kicking and screaming, or fire their sorry asses and promote somebody else.

Sounds to me like James Gorman needs to give a couple of guys a dope slap or two.


1 Playback.
2 Throughout, I employ industry-standard but often confusing terminology, in which “investment banking” = “corporate finance (and M&A)” and “capital markets” = “sales and trading.” Oh, and “investment bank” means the whole damn firm. Alles klar?

© 2011 The Epicurean Dealmaker. All rights reserved.

Sunday, August 21, 2011

The Devil's Book of Aphorisms: Part 1

Why, yes, My Dear, Vanity is the source of all Beauty
The safest road to Hell is the gradual one—the gentle slope, soft underfoot, without sudden turnings, without milestones, without signposts.

All mortals tend to turn into the thing they are pretending to be.


— C.S. Lewis, The Screwtape Letters


From the archives...

Screwtape’s Hierarchy of Greeds:

Those who can, Create.

Those who cannot create, Execute.

Those who cannot execute, Finance.

Those who cannot finance, Do Deals.

Those who cannot do deals, Trade.

Those who cannot trade, Write about the rest.

Those who cannot write, Pay for all this activity.

* * *

Thank you for your support.


© 2011 The Epicurean Dealmaker. All rights reserved.


Sunday, August 14, 2011

Signed in Blood

A friend emailed to tell me he was out last night and heard someone yell “TED!” outside a bar, restaurant, and adult bookstore.1 He spun around and looked, then had a good laugh.

I told him he could pretty much count on it that whenever and wherever “TED!” is shouted outside a bar or adult bookstore,2 I’ll be there in spirit.

It’s in my contract.


1 He did not explain, but hopefully this was not all one establishment. Drinking at an adult bookstore I can understand; eating there would only give me indigestion.
2 Of course, if it is a strip club, you can be pretty certain I'll be there in the flesh, too.

© 2011 The Epicurean Dealmaker. All rights reserved.

Saturday, August 13, 2011

Tie Me to the Mast, Lads

Browsing the public twitter pages of old friends and acquaintances this morning has reminded me of whom I miss and why.

It has also reminded me why I am delighted to continue missing them.

Back to the hermit cave…


© 2011 The Epicurean Dealmaker. All rights reserved.