everybody reads raymond

So check this out. Someone stole my corporate identity and used my MasterCard information to have dinner at a restaurant in Italy on Saturday to the tune of $1,313.42. That�s a lot of pasta. I�d be back in ICU had I been party to that dinner. As such, The Bank of New York will most likely return my money (Debit MasterCard) when they determine that I wasn�t in Italy over the weekend.

Follow up: Great. I just got a call from the bank. They told me NOT to expect a credit (as they would give a personal client) because mine is a business account. As such I may have to wait 30-90 days before it is resolved. Plus, they need me to file a Police Report before they proceed. Ahhh!

Its Monday, 8:30 and I'm eating soup (homemade of course) to keep warm. The November Nor'easter has left Brooklyn cold, and my apartment frigid. I have just called my landlord to remind them to turn up (on) the heat. They are doctors, both. Ones in family practice and the other's a pediatrician. I hope (& hear) they are better doctors than landlords, because they treat their tenants like shit. Its a shame that the adage proves true: you get what you pay for, because it used to be that living in this building, you sacrificed heat in the winter and cold water in the kitchen for a killer view and half the rent comparable to our neighborhood. Well Bin-Ladin took away the view, the rent is higher and I still don't have heat. It could be depressing to a lesser man!

An unfortunate result of the bitterness in my crappy old hovel is that I can't accurately test my blood sugars. My meter, the FreeStyle doesn't seem to react well to the cold temperature and instead of providing the necessary data it spits out an error message.

Not long ago, a high school friend asked what I did for a living and I gave, at best, a misleading explanation.

The truth is that I have worked harder than anyone I have ever met. But I only did that for a week, a month or a maybe a year. During that time I knew what it was like to be poor, without education and completely alone. I swore never to do that again. Since that time, I have never worked a day in my life - honest, bone rubbing work anyway.

What I have done for the past ten years is sell people dreams, and extracted money from them in the process. It hasn't always been fair - the extraction, but I trust in that fact that I am providing a service and actually care about my clients outcome. This differs from my mentors whereby they only seek the money, “Fuck the client's needs.”

The problem is that I am in this for the score - the unobtainable score - and always will be. That is my holy grail - the journey. And lately, I have considered that it will cost me the real game. The Game: wife, home, children, remembrance.

The question: “Is it enough of a risk to curb my ways?”
Answer: “No.”

This is who I am. I will either succeed or die trying. Happiness will come through small victories - where have I been, who have I met, what have I been a party to? But most important, have I done it on my own - without aid of corporate VP status via some prestigiously named firm. After all, don't middle Americans define themselves by their posture in the corporate structure? I'm only different in that I wish to have all the glory bestowed upon me, by me - risking failure that could only be applied to me. Whereby a corporate counterpart can claim downsizing or difference in opinion.

But here is the issue: Am I a boy living an unforgiving dream or am I a dreamer that deserves hope? Should I abandon all that I have learned to obtain peer comparison, or should I continue to say, “Fuck 'em if they can't take a joke. I will win.”?

I want children but I am glad that I don't have them now as they would only restrict my ability to try for the unachievable. But the big question is can I continue to risk the possibility of no children while I “play”?

Many may say that I have lived an easy life, but I have never gotten anything easily - I have had to scratch & claw for any achievement. But that doesn't make me worthy of anything but a chance to try, and try, and try again.

To the God or Goddess of all creatures great and small:

Enough already. I have already repaired my roof this season - you know, actual "man's work" of flashing, tar and roof paper. I ruined a par of shoes and jeans in the process. Yet your incessant need for water sports is wreaking havoc on my living room, where again a leak has sprung. 'Tis true. It is but a small leak; but it is water where it shouldn't be none the less.

I pray to you: Make it stop, please.

Not all that long ago it seems, I used to be able to head out to the local deli with a $15 in my pocket and fetch all the items a starving young lad might need to pass the evening: a sandwich, a bag of peanuts and a 6-pack - and I still had change left over for the $1.25 ride to work in the morning.

Living in New York has always been tough, but now its downright unbearable. Now add an idiot's (aka. Bloomberg's) personal agenda against every vise known to man, vices expected and until late, taken for granted by NYers. Then add 15 or so years, allowing for inflation. What do you get?: I went out to the deli tonight as a cash poor man and came back a beggar. Wine vs. beer, yes (as I'm no longer 20); and gourmet bread vs. rye (as I'm no longer 20); and I added a few extras like fruit and almonds (as I'm no longer 20), but the result was nearly $50 and a required trip to the ATM that cost me $1.75 on the host bank's end and $1 on my bank's end.

It is no wonder that NYers are leaving our great city in droves, especially those who have to work for a living.

This is disgusting! As someone who was there (me) or from the point of view of someone who wasn't (you or others) we should all find this to be of extremely poor taste. Some idiot decided to make an adventure game based on the "survivability" of a business man/woman in the World Trade Towers during 9-11. Check it out and send your hate mail here: 9-11 Survivor.

PS: You might want to include in your tirade that they obviously don't know how to spell survivor either, as it only has one "I".

In gearing up for Eddie Izzard's new comedy show, the cable networks have been re-playing "Dressed to Kill", wherein Eddie talks about the ridiculousness of everyone in the middle east having a long list of jihads that tax their brains.

We all think its rather funny due to the setting but in truth, we all have lists of people or groups with whom we are at odds.

Like the jihads of the middle east, I too have a list. Its called the "Bastards" list. And when properly added to said list the phrase would go as such: "I can't believe they ticketed my car again,...[pause for effect]... da' bastards. They're going on the list." The sentence for going on such a list is as of yet, undetermined. But on the list they go.

I'll be setting up a new site at a new domain (when I have the time). It'll be called BidWhacker.com - dedicated to outing nefarious, bid whacking IR guys and their lying, sleazy friends.

First, allow me to define a BidWhacker: someone who sells shares by “hitting” the bid price of a stock. For NYSE, NASDAQ-NMS and AMEX companies, this is a fine and customary practice that represents business as usual. In anything else, and especially in small-cap deals, its just plain stupid, as it’s a quick way to ensure you get less money than you could and the stock price goes down. Sure its immediate gratification, but it usually involves selling large blocks that took several trades to acquire. Why buy 2,000 shares at a clip in a small-cap stock, accumulating 20,000 shares in a security that’s trading higher (or lower) when you ensure a declining value (or continued decline) by selling all 20,000 shares all at once – at the bid!? Your sale will undoubtedly whack a bid, meaning fill it and it goes away, leaving the next highest bid, but lower in price in its place.

In case anyone got lost in the above explanation (and I am sure there are a few IR guys out there who would be lost), let me remind everyone that a bid is not some random, computer generated number that market makers collectively agree upon and the beginning of each trading day and then update throughout the day based on volume and the ratio of buyers to sellers. No! Surprise, it is not that. A bid represents an unfilled order of a real person willing to buy a certain amount of that particular stock at a specified price, no higher. A cheapskate, if you will. Just as an ask represents an unfilled order of a real person willing to sell (offer) a certain amount of that particular stock at a specified price, no lower.

Back to the cheapskate. When you sell to his bid, the cheapskate buys up to the total number of shares that he agreed to purchase at that price – no higher and no more. If the number of shares you’re selling – at the bid – exceeds the order placed by the cheapskate, his order is filled and he goes away, leaving the next guy down on the totem pole. Point in fact: the next guy down was cheaper than the cheapskate, so how much stock do you think he’s going to buy from you? Probably not much as he knows that you’re a stupid BidWhacker, so he’ll only buy a little from you and go down in price and willingness to buy. Thus begins the slide in price. A perfectly fine trading day ruined all because you wanted instant gratification. Dumb BidWhacker.

Now let me tell you how you are losing money too. Assume a stock trading $1 by $1.10 that usually trades 250,000 shares a day. Not great, but there’s liquidity for the smart trader. Further assume that you own 25,000 – forget about the price you paid for it or if your Uncle Bob gave it to you as a birthday gift. The fact is that it’s worth $25,000 - $27,500. An important point to pick up on here is that it also represents 10% of the average trading volume in this security.

OK, so the Market’s open and you want a new car – time to sell. What do you do? If you’re a retched BidWhacker, you place a market order to sell all 25K. If you’re a sly, thoughtful or simple BidWhacker, you’ll place several market orders to sell 5K at a time. If you’re a fancy or dandy BidWhacker, you might even place limit orders to sell at $1, no less. Here’s the problem with all of those situations: the stock will go down! And I’m not talking about more sellers than buyers. It would go down if you were the ONLY seller and everyone else bought stock that day. The stock would still go down. Stupid BidWhacker! Remember the cheapskate? Well he’s only going to bid for 5,000 at a time. Don’t scratch your tiny-brained head on this one, BidWhacker. Just trust me. You see, Mr. Cheapskate didn’t get to where he is in life (has more money than you’ll ever know) by being dumb and buying everything you want to sell him at YOUR price. He’ll buy it at HIS price.

So lets suppose you didn’t listen to any of this and acted like the ignorant BidWhacker you’ve always been. If Mr. Cheapskate bought 5,000 shares from you on each trade and ONLY drops $0.05 each time, you will have sold all 25,000 shares from a starting point of $1 down to $0.80, filing that order and making it go away too. If you were the ONLY seller that day, the stock would close at $0.75 bid – down 25%. And believe me, you won’t be the only seller, so you can kiss that $22,500 that you think you might get. But even if you thought you could, why leave $5,000 on the table for Mr. Cheapskate to pick up? You left 18% behind – assuming you were the ONLY seller. Even you can understand that, right? Pathetic BidWhacker.

So how do you do it? How do you avoid the snickering in the locker room and ridicule from all your buddies who all own much more stock than you? How do you avoid Uncle Bob telling the cops about your little herb garden? USE A LIMIT ORDER ABOVE THE BID YOU DUMB TWIT. The counter part to Mr. Cheapskate is his brother, also Mr. Cheapskate, who is willing to SELL STOCK at a specified price, no lower. Join him! He sells stock every day. In the situation I described above he sells 125,000 shares at $1.10 every day of the week. If you join him, you’ll get $27,500 for your efforts. For the simple minded BidWhackers out there it looks like this: SELL 25,000 LIMIT $1.10. That’s not that hard, now is it? You might even try: SELL 25,000 LIMIT $1.08 if you’re in a hurry. You’ll be undercutting the brother of Mr. Cheapskate and will draw quick attention to the fact that you want out but don’t want to hurt anybody’s position. They will react quickly – trust me. And the added bonus is that you won’t wreck it for all your friends who also own the stock, because it might even trade higher. Fucking BidWhacker!

Now go and repent. Think about what you have done. Amend your ways. BidWhacker!

*****

Side Note: The above being said, allow me to dispel another notion. Ther is no such thing as more buyers/sellers than sellers/buyers. Pick whichever one you want. Its crap, and impossible. In each transaction, there is a buyer and a seller. Period. If buyers and sellers are unmatched in price from one day to the next, that’s when you see price increase or decline. (Or there's an idiot BidWhacker in the deal.) But there will always be an even number of buys to sells. Otherwise you have bought from someone who doesn’t exist or sold to thin air. Think about it.

Its reminds me of the bit where boys, on average, lose their virginity at age 15 and girls at age 17. Think about it. What does that mean? It means that 17-year-old girls are sleeping with 15-year-old boys. They can’t do it by themselves, can they? Or, they are lying! There must be a match – in sex and in trading stocks.

April eighth was a happy day.  I bought the house.  She's a big sucker, much more than I imagined.  The argument is still open on the square footage as the realtor's brief contradicts with the other various descriptions - each of which states a different number.  But, she's mine.  And while I didn't have time to savor a poolside, tropical cocktail as I was moving and closing on two business deals, there was no need for a bazooka.  I'm happy.

Having been here for 3 days + a week, I must reflect on the advice of a dear friend who once told me to never buy the "big house" as its a pain to clean and maintain.  He's right.  For argument's sake, lets call my place X thousand square feet.  Well I'll be damned if it isn't $2 a sq/ft just to maintain.  That's outrageous.  The pool heater alone sucks 80 gallons of propane every ten days, for goodness sake.  And that's just one aspect of the back yard.  We haven't even entered the house yet!  But, I'm happy.  And she's mine.

I really got the wake up call when the decorator spoke in simple figures like, "... replacing the chandelier shouldn't cost more than five (5) ... or ... the fixtures and lighting can be done for two (2) ..."  This means thousands, not hundreds.  She didn't even mention the hundreds.  She only spoke in twos, fives and eights.  Ugh!  But, I'm happy.  And the house is mine.

I reflect further on what another friend of mine said, "That's what you get for buying a gazillion dollar house on the water."  And maybe he's right.  But as I write this, I'm looking across the South Grand Canal - the tributary to the Intercostal waterway - to houses that could swallow me whole and I wonder how they managed the sticker shock.  Poor, rich bastards.  But, I'm happy.  And she's mine.

The cats like it, so it must be cool.

Maybe its because I was checking my iSync calendar data - making sure all computers were in alignment; or maybe it was because I couldn't remember when things "exactly" took place; whatever the reason, I checked the last 4 years of iCal data. Upon doing so, I became appalled. At me.

I must have blocked it mentally. I don't remember. But tonight I realized that, upon learning of an affair, it took me two years and one month to extract myself from the situation. And then it required another six or seven months to become divorced. Holy crap! That's almost three years of my life! 3 years!!! What the hell was I thinking? I am ashamed, embarrassed. If it weren't in my datebook, I wouldn't believe it. I still don't. The only words that come to mind are: asshole, idiot, schmuck, and dolt.

I can't help the period it took to produce a divorce, but there's no excuse for wasting the two years of my miserable life prior to that time; but I'll try to explain. I was trying to save something that was doomed. She wanted "security" (money); and I wanted "love" (love). I knew I could always make money (but avoided it). I wanted to know that I was loved without it. Forgive me, I like old Elvis movies. (Idiot and schmuck still come to mind.) Dammit! It was the money she was always after - the thing I always resisted producing without her willingness to accept the possibility of living without (something she could never do, leaving me as a result).

In retrospect, it only took me six months after splitsville to make my first million. And then another year to quadruple that figurer. I look back now and wish I had those two years back because I'd be ten times healthier and wealthier now. She was never going to "get over" the money issue. Her "need" was too strong. I guess I'll have to live with being wiser (now).

But what really gets my goat is that it took two plus years of my life. Again, I am appalled. I am ashamed, embarrassed. There was an affair and I attempted to rationalize it into something else, wasting years of my life. And forgetting the love & money issues, the only words that still come to mind are: asshole, idiot, schmuck, and dolt.

While I wrote this, I played: Money, Money, Money from the album "Gold" by ABBA

I just treated myself to a new iPod - the fancy new video one that stores pictures, video  and all sorts of digital files associated with a Mac user in addition to music.  But when I went to upload the files I discovered something in iTunes that kind'a pisses me off: Once you download a music video to your machine, you're done.  You can't move it or copy it.  And as I have two machines that I use regularly, I now have video on my work machine that I can't play on my iPod because its married to my home machine.  And iTunes won't allow me to move them, copy them, steal them or tell ITMS that I paid for them but want them on my "home" machine.  That sucks.

Played: Your Blue Room from the album "The Complete U2 - Original Soundtracks 1" by Passengers.

Ha! I just solved a major technology hurdled while being handcuffed by corrupt and "broken" hardware. The issue: I needed to solve the static vs. dynamic IP requirements of hosting a database that will be accessed by remote clients while maintaining security within the network and I needed to give the host machine wireless access to the rest of the network. The problems: I had one of two ISPs down for the count, I had a machine on the network whose wireless connectivity was gone (faulty card?), I had another machine who had lost all connectivity and I had somehow managed to confuse the wireless router into a brick of uselessness. To add to the discomfort: I have a colleague coming into town in two days, my roof is being demolished tomorrow in preparation for the new one, I have a very important lunch meeting tomorrow, and I will be getting on a plane next week for a month away - depending upon the fact that the database is up and running.

The simple solution would have been for me to plug the wireless router into the working modem, plug the "master" machine into that and call it a day. But this would have killed the concept of a static IP, which would have killed the idea of a remotely accessed database. Next I thought of using the "master" machine as the bridge and placing the router after it in the chain (which is ultimately what I did) but it isn't as easily done as said.

The first problem I had was that I couldn't tell or diagnose if the router was working at all. I had asked it to reconfigure so many times in various setups and connections that I am sure it was suffering from an identity crisis. The second problem with testing it (as a wireless solution) was that both of the machines at my disposal that used wireless connectivity were not working - the first because its just fucked and needs to go back to the repair shop, and the second because it suffered the identity crisis measures that I put the router through earlier. I had asked it to perform various bridging functions in the pursuit of a solution - none of which worked

As any scientist will tell you, you need a control sample - something that you know to be true - something to compare and test against - something that works. I had nothing of the sort and still needed a solution. And I needed it quick as my office was starting to look like a dumping site for rejected cables, wire, and computer parts - which sucked as I had just finished having my office decorated last week.

I'll spare you the technical details - way above your brain power anyway <evil laugh>. But the solution rested in me overriding DHCP and NAT - fuckers! Anyway, I feel so jazzed about it, I had to tell someone. However, nobody is here to bow before greatness but me. So, I am tooting my own horn.

While feeling big and powerful, I played Tribal King - Façon sex - via WiFi broadcast to remote speakers and felt great about it. And since I felt like it, I added a photo that has nothing to do with this story. Its Sybille and me at Dani's birthday party - which included making my house look like a cheap bordello. Cheers!

With the US population passing (an estimated) 300 million, some things still remain as true when we had half that amount - we're still stupid when it comes to the world outside the US, and occasionally even about things inside the US.  So is it 300MM or 1.5B?

According to a National Geographic Survey one third of the Americans surveyed thought the US population to be between 1 and 2 billion.  But we're not alone when compared to the “rest of the world”.  There is a lack of knowledge as to geography almost everywhere.  And the good news is that if it were not for Mexico, the US would have placed last.  And if not for Canada, France, Germany, Great Britain, Italy, Japan and Sweden (the winner), the US might have been first.  I would suggest that we want to be the biggest and the best(est), that we get rid of those other 7 countries.  Only problem is that 11 percent of the Americans polled couldn't even find the US on a map; and one-third were unaware of the location of the Pacific Ocean - there are only 5 oceans for goodness sake.  Come on.  1 in 5 should have gotten it right by default odds.  The fact that the true results were only slightly higher than that is ugly, just ugly.

But when a full 74% of all that were polled thought that English was the language spoken by the most people in the world as their primary language, I guess you can't fault them too much,..afterall, with America being 1/3 of the World population by the American count, how can you blame them for not caring about a couple of funny-looking people speaking Chinese?