Vote for America!

The day has descended upon us... it's time to vote! I'm not here to promote my own views of each Presidential candidate's agendas or even agendas of the Republican and Democratic parties. I'm just here to say that it is time to vote!

Today I, as well as many others, have seen an overflow of eager, registered voters flood the polling stations. It's amazing that more people than ever have showed up to demonstrate that they care about the country and its future... or maybe their own not-so-obvious agendas? Nevertheless, I was shocked to venture out at 6am this morning and witness a long line wrapping around my designated polling station.

If you read the news lately, you would see that America is not prepared for the upsurge of interest in the Presidential polls. Read a clip here from Fox News (Broken Machines, Shortages Plague Voters).

But, what is it that drives all these voters to action, when action was already needed years ago? Is it truly "change"? Is it merely the impressive rhetoric spouting out of one charismatic candidate's pie-hole? Is it fear of the "same" 8 years that we've lived under the shadow of a Bush? Is it the ridicule showered upon a certain Vice Presidential candidate's reputation, made popular by a consistently leftist, Saturday night skit-show? Is it racial tension?

Who knows? All I can say is, "Good for you, America!" Interest has finally peaked for your welfare. Whether the reasons are right or wrong, at least Americans are out to do something about the way things are. This is what the United States stands for... freedom to choose.

Now, let's just hope that the broken polls, missing ballots, and "mistakes", don't lead to another "recount"!

Rants & Raves: Andrew Lahde bids farewell to the System!

It’s not new news that the financial market sucks. Everyone’s been affected in some way by now; whether you’re worrying about your own job, your credit, your mortgage payments, gas prices, or unnecessary expenses (e.g. dining out, entertainment, luxury vacations, etc.). Sympathies also go out to the graduating classes that now find it difficult to obtain a good paying job. Wall Street and every other financial corner of the United States are “re-assessing” the value of fancy MBA education – therefore leaving those with educational debt in the red.

But, just because the market sucks, it doesn’t mean that it can’t be entertaining. Nowadays, former bankers, analysts, and hedge funders are lashing out at the big, bad, world… claiming that they are the victims of capitalism and long hours, chained to a computer. Yet, with some of the wealth they have accumulated… should we feel sorry for them? Should anyone (who is not an i-banker, analyst, or financial monkey) who has a dream of making it big in any metropolitan area, feel sorry for these shmucks who dare voice out in an attempt to exemplify an ounce of integrity? Here is one of the most recent communications by Andrew Lahde, a successful, Santa Monica hedge fund manager, who now despises the very system that allowed him to retire comfortably. You decide… should we empathize with this guy? Do you think his statement, while insightful… is genuine?

The Andrew Lahde Farewell Letter:

Today I write not to gloat. Given the pain that nearly everyone is experiencing, that would be entirely inappropriate. Nor am I writing to make further predictions, as most of my forecasts in previous letters have unfolded or are in the process of unfolding. Instead, I am writing to say goodbye.


Recently, on the front page of Section C of the Wall Street Journal, a hedge fund manager who was also closing up shop (a $300 million fund), was quoted as saying, "What I have learned about the hedge fund business is that I hate it." I could not agree more with that statement. I was in this game for the money. The low hanging fruit, i.e. idiots whose parents paid for prep school, Yale, and then the Harvard MBA, was there for the taking. These people who were (often) truly not worthy of the education they received (or supposedly received) rose to the top of companies such as AIG, Bear Stearns and Lehman Brothers and all levels of our government. All of this behavior supporting the Aristocracy, only ended up making it easier for me to find people stupid enough to take the other side of my trades. God bless America.


There are far too many people for me to sincerely thank for my success. However, I do not want to sound like a Hollywood actor accepting an award. The money was reward enough. Furthermore, the endless list those deserving thanks know who they are.


I will no longer manage money for other people or institutions. I have enough of my own wealth to manage. Some people, who think they have arrived at a reasonable estimate of my net worth, might be surprised that I would call it quits with such a small war chest. That is fine; I am content with my rewards. Moreover, I will let others try to amass nine, ten or eleven figure net worths. Meanwhile, their lives suck. Appointments back to back, booked solid for the next three months, they look forward to their two week vacation in January during which they will likely be glued to their Blackberries or other such devices. What is the point? They will all be forgotten in fifty years anyway. Steve Balmer, Steven Cohen, and Larry Ellison will all be forgotten. I do not understand the legacy thing. Nearly everyone will be forgotten. Give up on leaving your mark. Throw the Blackberry away and enjoy life.


So this is it. With all due respect, I am dropping out. Please do not expect any type of reply to emails or voicemails within normal time frames or at all. Andy Springer and his company will be handling the dissolution of the fund. And don't worry about my employees, they were always employed by Mr. Springer's company and only one (who has been well-rewarded) will lose his job.


I have no interest in any deals in which anyone would like me to participate. I truly do not have a strong opinion about any market right now, other than to say that things will continue to get worse for some time, probably years. I am content sitting on the sidelines and waiting. After all, sitting and waiting is how we made money from the subprime debacle. I now have time to repair my health, which was destroyed by the stress I layered onto myself over the past two years, as well as my entire life -- where I had to compete for spaces in universities and graduate schools, jobs and assets under management -- with those who had all the advantages (rich parents) that I did not. May meritocracy be part of a new form of government, which needs to be established.


On the issue of the U.S. Government, I would like to make a modest proposal. First, I point out the obvious flaws, whereby legislation was repeatedly brought forth to Congress over the past eight years, which would have reigned in the predatory lending practices of now mostly defunct institutions. These institutions regularly filled the coffers of both parties in return for voting down all of this legislation designed to protect the common citizen. This is an outrage, yet no one seems to know or care about it. Since Thomas Jefferson and Adam Smith passed, I would argue that there has been a dearth of worthy philosophers in this country, at least ones focused on improving government. Capitalism worked for two hundred years, but times change, and systems become corrupt. George Soros, a man of staggering wealth, has stated that he would like to be remembered as a philosopher. My suggestion is that this great man start and sponsor a forum for great minds to come together to create a new system of government that truly represents the common man's interest, while at the same time creating rewards great enough to attract the best and brightest minds to serve in government roles without having to rely on corruption to further their interests or lifestyles. This forum could be similar to the one used to create the operating system, Linux, which competes with Microsoft's near monopoly. I believe there is an answer, but for now the system is clearly broken.


Lastly, while I still have an audience, I would like to bring attention to an alternative food and energy source. You won't see it included in BP's, "Feel good. We are working on sustainable solutions," television commercials, nor is it mentioned in ADM's similar commercials. But hemp has been used for at least 5,000 years for cloth and food, as well as just about everything that is produced from petroleum products. Hemp is not marijuana and vice versa. Hemp is the male plant and it grows like a weed, hence the slang term. The original American flag was made of hemp fiber and our Constitution was printed on paper made of hemp. It was used as recently as World War II by the U.S. Government, and then promptly made illegal after the war was won. At a time when rhetoric is flying about becoming more self-sufficient in terms of energy, why is it illegal to grow this plant in this country? Ah, the female. The evil female plant -- marijuana. It gets you high, it makes you laugh, it does not produce a hangover. Unlike alcohol, it does not result in bar fights or wife beating. So, why is this innocuous plant illegal? Is it a gateway drug? No, that would be alcohol, which is so heavily advertised in this country. My only conclusion as to why it is illegal, is that Corporate America, which owns Congress, would rather sell you Paxil, Zoloft, Xanax and other additive drugs, than allow you to grow a plant in your home without some of the profits going into their coffers. This policy is ludicrous. It has surely contributed to our dependency on foreign energy sources. Our policies have other countries literally laughing at our stupidity, most notably Canada, as well as several European nations (both Eastern and Western). You would not know this by paying attention to U.S. media sources though, as they tend not to elaborate on who is laughing at the United States this week. Please people, let's stop the rhetoric and start thinking about how we can truly become self-sufficient.


With that I say good-bye and good luck.


All the best,
Andrew Lahde



So in conclusion, Andrew thinks the solution to achieving utopia is pot? Mind you... this is my assumption, but it is funny how he ends his letter on this note.

September 11 - Tragic Memories, Strong Reminder

(Photo by :Robert McMahan www.mcmahanphoto.com)

Seven years ago, the day was September 11, 2001. The wound has healed, but a slight bruise in place of it still stirs up tragic memories. I remember that day as if it just happened; and I remember the few days leading up to that grim event that would change everyone and everything.

At the time I was still employed by a global accounting firm, headquartered in Two World Financial Center. The lovely Winter Garden sat, nestled perfectly between the Two Towers and the buildings of the Financial Center. It was always pleasant to stroll through the bridge connecting my building to One World Trade Center; especially when the Winter Garden would empty, signaling the end of the work day for most, but just the middle of the work day for myself and others.

The week of September 3rd was a quiet one… foreboding, but quiet. It was one of the first weeks when I actually had some downtime and would often contemplate my life amidst the palm trees of the Winter Garden. After finishing up some big projects, I had decided to take advantage of my free time by exploring the job market and pursuing a new opportunity. It was September 5th, when my first job interview led me to 85th floor of Two World Trade Center.

The position was with a Japanese broker dealer and I had performed well with the various managers and peers that I met throughout the day, including Max, the light-hearted hiring manager who would be my potential boss. I felt good walking the halls of the firm – the people were friendly, the environment was laid back, and the company seemed to value family life, as there was artwork made by children, pasted along the walls of the office. The artwork made me smile and gave me hope that there was a company out there that valued life above work. Max’s own son had drawn his portrait rather accurately, a bit rotund, with a huge smile on his face.

“So, we’ll see you next week for the final interview?” Max seemed pretty certain that I was interested, which of course, I was.

“Yes”, I smiled enthusiastically, “please give me a call and let me know what day to come in!”

Little did I know, I would never come back into that office… and I still have the temporary ID from that day as a reminder.

Every morning from September 5th on, would be the same. I lived in a pretty convenient spot on 42nd Street and had only a few steps to take from my apartment building to the subway platform on the corner of my block. My alarm clock would ring at 7am, and because I had a shoebox for a room, I would bang my right elbow on the wall and my left elbow on the bookcase, while trying to hit the snooze button. My roommate would still be sleeping off the late night he had, working on his start-up business and tune out the noise I made stumbling around my room and the bathroom, while getting ready for work..

Fifteen minutes… that’s all it took for me to get from Hell’s Kitchen to the World Trade Center; another 5 minutes is all it took to emerge from the bowels of the subway at 6 World Trade Center and walk through the army of suited drones in a mechanical fashion.

I would make my first stop at Timothy’s World of Coffee after stepping off the escalator for a quick caffeine fix. Afterwards, a quick browse of the Banana Republic store window and quick walk through Borders, and I would blast through the revolving glass doors that served as the portal to the vast lobby of 1 World Trade Center. Dodging the usual tourists, I would make my way to the bridge connecting the World Trade Center to the World Financial Center. It was an invigorating walk, and a walk I miss.

Fast forward 5:30pm – Monday, September 10th, my friend Bob and I were standing in the middle of the bridge to the Winter Garden, staring out into the rain as traffic raced past underneath us.

“What a lousy day,” I grumbled, “but better on a Tuesday than over the weekend.” Bob nodded his head in agreement and stared blankly down at West Street. He had also come off some pretty grueling projects and was in shock that he actually had time to breathe.

“Tomorrow’s my birthday,” Bob muttered indifferently. “Man, I’m getting old… I’m only 26 and I already have a bald spot.”

I held myself back from laughing; the comment was true after all. I patted Bob on the back to cheer him up. “Hey man, a few drinks tomorrow night will cheer you up! Oh wait… I forgot that you don’t drink, so you’re screwed.”

“Ass!” Bob replied with a half smile, to let me know that he knew I was kidding.

“Hey… maybe we can catch Cirque Du Soleil when they get here in two weeks,” I suggested, “now, that would be cool!” All week there had been giant banners advertising the coming of the mysterious circus troupe… all of my co-workers were eager to see them in action in the Winter Garden.

“Well, 6pm… time to go home,” Bob stated matter-of-factly, “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

Tuesday, September 11th, 2001 – I woke up rather disoriented. My alarm clock didn’t sound and I squinted in the darkness to see the time. “Shit! It’s 8:20am!” I jumped out of bed and dashed for the bathroom. I quickly showered, brushed my teeth, and jumped into my suit, trying to button my dress shirt furiously.

RIIIIIIIIING… the telephone rang at 8:47am. It was my girlfriend who asked how I was and if I saw the news.

“Did you see the tower?” she asked sounding concerned. I turned on my 13” television and saw smoke from 1 World Trade Center being broadcast on NY1. I dismissed the sight as some accident, stating… “Eh… they’ll put that fire out… hey, I gotta get going now.” Much to my girlfriend’s disappointment, I reassured her that everything would be okay and made a dash down the stairs… to the subway… and in the subway.

The time was 8:55am – the E train creaked its way to 34th Street, then 14th Street. Then at 9:10am it stopped. The conductor announced that service to the World Trade Center would be suspended due to a fire in the towers.

“What did that mean? Towers? I thought only one tower was on fire?” I looked as a stream of people boarded the train to head back uptown. As I got back to my apartment, I found my roommate surprisingly awake and watching TV.

“Did you see what happened?” he asked.

“No… are they putting out the fire now?” I replied.

“It’s a terrorist attack… a second plane just hit the tower when you were gone”.

I stared at the TV in shock as a replay of the second plane looped on NY1. It was unbelievable… surreal… unbelievable.

The time was 10:05am – My roommate and I felt the pangs of disbelief and denial. The first tower went down. 23 minutes later, the second tower fell.

My phone didn’t work… then I got through to my girlfriend… to my family… but I couldn’t get through to my co-workers or my other friends downtown. The day was damned… but I was alive and questioned why I wasn’t there. Later I would find out that hundreds of others would have this same question, “How did I manage to wake up late for work?”

The following weeks were rough on everyone. Upper-management from my firm called and confirmed that I was alive. Everywhere, there was a bogus bomb scare, from Port Authority to Grand Central to Empire State. Some sick people actually thought it would be funny to capitalize on the aftermath.

I was scared and still in denial… a bunch of my co-workers got together to cope with the events over lunch, over dinner, over drinks and more drinks… but nothing seemed to fill the void we all felt.

The second week following the attack, I went to visit my parents in Jersey City to give them comfort that I in fact still existed. They didn’t want me to go back… but I felt that I had to… My roommate, who was an overly ambitious photographer, would keep me updated on the happenings around town. He would then go on to capture one of the most touching photographs of firefighters in the midst of disaster, “Walk of Courage” (http://www.mcmahanphoto.com/).

Feeling like I had to fill a void, I drove to downtown Jersey City to volunteer with the groups unloading trucks to supply the fire fighters and law enforcement with much needed supplies. Volunteering helped my soul feel better… just a little, but it was never enough.

I look back now… it’s September 11, 2008. I’m grateful that I woke up late that morning and that it was my destiny to live to be a husband, to be a father, and to be a friend. I’ve embraced the chance I was given and lived positively for the next few years – but we all know that over time positive spirit can fade. But, every year on September 11, I’m reminded of my pact with hope, and my positive feelings through grim reminders are always renewed.

God bless everyone who was affected on this day… you are not alone.

Social Prowess: How to Infuse Vodka!

Entertaining has become an important part of developing yourself as a successful individual and leader. Not only must you be able to adapt to the interests of others to build on relationships, but you should also have a few tricks up your sleeves to ensure that people remember you.

So, what do you do if your peers at work are out one night and you all decide to congregate at your place for some much needed R&R? Well, one thing you can do is whip out your special batch of infused vodka... always a special treat! Wait... you say you don't know how to infuse vodka? No problem... just follow the steps below and show how suave you are with your cocktail knowledge and become an instant hit!

How to Infuse Vodka -- From my past experiences as a frequent bar-hopper in Manhattan, I happened upon some truly tasty infused vodkas at places like Punch Lounge and the notorious Russian Vodka Room.

Some of the infused vodka flavors I've tried range from peach and apple to black currant and chili pepper to chocolate and licorice. Each of them were delicious in their own right... except for the licorice infusion (because I really don't like licorice to start with).

So if you're interested in trying vodkas that depart from the norm, visit a local, somewhat trendy bar/lounge and sample any of the concoctions available. Or you can infuse your own vodka:

Gather Your Desired Ingredients. In terms of choosing a flavor, you can use almost anything. Some of my suggestions would be chocolate, apple, berries, and peach. You can also experiment with herbs, but citrus fruit like lime or orange are the easiest to start with.

Use a potato peeler to shave the peel into an airtight jar filled with a mid-priced vodka. Take note that about 1 liter of vodka needs approximately 2 to 3 limes or oranges. Store the jar in a cool, dark, place.

Taste test the stuff! Shake the jar once a day to ensure that the ingredients are distributed throughout the jar. After about three to four days take a sample from the jar and test its taste; also check the smell. According to one mixologist that I spoke with at Punch Lounge, flavors usually peak after 7 to 10 days, after which the vodka pulls too much of the undesirable flavors out of the ingredients.

Cold Filter your creation. When the vodka tastes like you want it to taste, take a funnel and a bottle and pour the infusion through an unbleached coffee filter. The concoction should come out to be clear and flavorful, or if infused with darker ingredients like chocolate or wild berries, should turn out delicious and tinted. And, there you have it... fancy, infused vodka to impress your friends and associates!

Cheers!