Today, hedge fund bigwigs Bill Ackman and Carl Icahn delivered the most engaging TV smackdown in recent memory on CNBC.
Here's a story about two hedge funders who hate each other. It's also a story about whether or not a multi-billion-dollar nutrient company is actually a pyramid scheme.
Back in December, activist investor Bill Ackman gave the Powerpoint presentation to end all Powerpoint presentations -- it was 342 slides long -- about why he thought Herbalife, a company better known for weight-loss shakes and other assorted non-goodies, was doomed. The 1-slide version of his argument is that its web of distributors make more from recruiting new distributors than they do from actually selling products, making it less an Amway-style legal pyramid scheme, and more an illegal one. Ackman went short the stock -- in other words, he bet its price would go down by selling high and trying to buy low -- and very publicly said he expected it to go to zero.
Betting against a stock is a bit more involved than betting on it, because you can't exactly bet against something you own. Short-sellers have to first borrow the stock, then sell it, and hope to buy it back later at a lower price before returning it to the original owner. It's a risky game -- the stock can only go down so far, but it can go up an unlimited amount -- and Ackman seems to be playing a particularly risky version of it. He's short roughly 20 percent of the outstanding shares, which means he'll have a lot of stock to buy back that he might have trouble finding if, say, the price goes up and he tries to cut his losses.
That brings us to the billionaire battle. Activist investors aren't always the best of friends, and that's certainly the case when it comes to Carl Icahn and Bill Ackman. The two of them fought a seven-year legal battle over whether Icahn owed Ackman $4.5 million, a relative pittance in the rarefied air of Hedgistan, from the 2004 merger-sale of a real estate company -- a battle that Ackman ultimately won. That bad blood has carried over to Herbalife. Icahn thinks Ackman is just using his big media profile to make an easy buck manipulating the stock down, and that he's doing so in a way that could leave him very exposed. If other investors buy the stock for the express purpose of hurting his trade, Ackman might have to cover his large short position, which would send the stock racing up in a so-called "short-squeeze". Now, it's not clear Icahn is doing this ... but it certainly seems like a good bet.
Another good bet is that watching the two of them got at it on live television would be magical. It was. CNBC had the pair on, as you can see in the video below, and Icahn did not disappoint. This was tough, but here are his seven craziest quotes.
"I want to say what I want to say, and I'm not going to talk about my Herbalife position because you want to bully me ... So let's start with what I want to say. Ackman is a liar."
Discourse even more elevated.
"He wanted to have dinner once with me, and I had dinner with me. And I'll tell you, I laughed. I couldn't figure out if he was the sanctimonious guy I ever met in my life or the most arrogant."
Do these have to be mutually exclusive?
"I wouldn't have an investment with Ackman if you paid me to do it; if Ackman paid me to do it .... As far as I'm concerned, the guy is a major loser. You know, Disraeli once said, Disraeli once said about somebody that spoke in the Parliament, a young guy that spoke in the Parliament, 'Young man, I'd be happy if I could be as sure about one thing in my life as you are sure of everything.'"
"Ackman did it, look at the timing. Ackman did it with a week to go, or a month to go before he had to show his results. His results were bad for 2012, and this got his results up double, so he could get fees for himself. And then he talks about [giving these profits to] charity. That's complete bulls***."
Oops, live TV!
"I never said that I want to be friends with you Bill. I wouldn't be friends with you. And you said to me, you'd like to be friends so we could invest together .... I wouldn't invest with you if you were the last man on earth."
"I appreciate, Bill, that you called me a great investor. I thank you for that. Unfortunately, I can't say the same for you."
Give this man a mic to drop.
Okay, that was fun, but it's time for a serious point. Markets are mostly efficient, except when they're not. As Keynes, who knew a thing or two about picking stocks, pointed out, the market can be a bit like a newspaper beauty contest where you pick the six prettiest faces from a list of 100, and the winner is the one whose picks come closest to the most popular of the combined picks. But this means your optimal strategy is picking the faces you think other people think are the prettiest, not the ones you think are the prettiest. In other words, you're betting based on the crowd, and not the "fundamentals". It's the same with stocks, even before we consider hedge fund billionaires using a nutrient supplement company's stock to settle their grudge match.
Or, as Disraeli might have said, there are lies, damn lies, and efficient markets.
"[Ackman's] like the crybaby in the schoolyard. You know, I went to a tough school in Queens, and they used to beat up the little Jewish boys. And [Ackman] was like one of these little Jewish boys, crying that the world was taking advantage of him."
They weren’t the first victims of a mass shooting the Florida radiologist had seen—but their wounds were radically different.
As I opened the CT scan last week to read the next case, I was baffled. The history simply read “gunshot wound.” I have been a radiologist in one of the busiest trauma centers in the nation for 13 years, and have diagnosed thousands of handgun injuries to the brain, lung, liver, spleen, bowel, and other vital organs. I thought that I knew all that I needed to know about gunshot wounds, but the specific pattern of injury on my computer screen was one that I had seen only once before.
In a typical handgun injury that I diagnose almost daily, a bullet leaves a laceration through an organ like the liver. To a radiologist, it appears as a linear, thin, grey bullet track through the organ. There may be bleeding and some bullet fragments.
Many seniors are stuck with lives of never-ending work—a fate that could befall millions in the coming decades.
CORONA, Calif.—Roberta Gordon never thought she’d still be alive at age 76. She definitely didn’t think she’d still be working. But every Saturday, she goes down to the local grocery store and hands out samples, earning $50 a day, because she needs the money.
“I’m a working woman again,” she told me, in the common room of the senior apartment complex where she now lives, here in California’s Inland Empire. Gordon has worked dozens of odd jobs throughout her life—as a house cleaner, a home health aide, a telemarketer, a librarian, a fundraiser—but at many times in her life, she didn’t have a steady job that paid into Social Security. She didn’t receive a pension. And she definitely wasn’t making enough to put aside money for retirement.
The CNN-hosted event highlighted the voices of student activists, and showed why the gun debate might actually be different this time around.
I was 10 years old when, in 1999, Eric Harris and Dylan Klebold murdered 12 students at Columbine High School, in what was then the most-deadly school shooting in American history. What I can recall most from my childhood mind from the time aren’t the gruesome details in the news reports or even the sense of dread that gripped students and teachers across the country, but the feeling that something central about the country had changed. Something about America had shifted, and it was significant enough that even a child’s understanding could grasp it.
Almost two decades later, after multiple mass shootings and dozens of slain children, it’s clear that what changed wasn’t the mobilization of a country to stop events like Columbine, but the beginning of the normalization of those events. Now, even the fervor of post-massacre gun debates has been fraught with fatalism. Every debate is the same, without any denouement. Advocates cry out for common-sense reforms, NRA-backed politicians decry those measures, donor lists are released, and people complain about the politicization of tragedy. But nothing ever really happens. The gun debate has become a moribund ritual.
The Second Amendment enshrined the principle of individual liberty—and extending a militarized state into the schools would only undermine it.
The Second Amendment is a remarkable piece of the Constitution. “A well regulated Militia, being necessary to the security of a free State, the right of the people to keep and bear Arms, shall not be infringed,” it reads.
Set aside for the moment questions about its practical interpretations today and its usefulness as a legal tenet—the provision presents a starkly revolutionary moral and political theory. Written by the powerful men in charge of the nation, the amendment expressly preserves the right of individuals to protect themselves against the future tyranny of the powerful men in charge of the nation. In fact, it enshrines this as a moral obligation, mixing into the very core of American civics the expectation that uncivil disobedience might be a necessary patriotic duty should the government cease to serve the people.
The revolutionary ideals of Black Panther’s profound and complex villain have been twisted into a desire for hegemony.
The following article contains major spoilers.
Black Panther is a love letter to people of African descent all over the world. Its actors, its costume design, its music, and countless other facets of the film are drawn from all over the continent and its diaspora, in a science-fiction celebration of the imaginary country of Wakanda, a high-tech utopia that is a fictive manifestation of African potential unfettered by slavery and colonialism.
But it is first and foremost an African American love letter, and as such it is consumed with The Void, the psychic and cultural wound caused by the Trans-Atlantic slave trade, the loss of life, culture, language, and history that could never be restored. It is the attempt to penetrate The Void that brought us Alex Haley’s Roots, that draws thousands of African Americans across the ocean to visit West Africa every year, that left me crumpled on the rocks outside the Door of No Return at Gorée Island’s slave house as I stared out over a horizon that my ancestors might have traversed once and forever. Because all they have was lost to The Void, I can never know who they were, and neither can anyone else.
The Canadian prime minister’s trip could nonetheless help him with a voting bloc he covets.
Indian Prime Minister Narendra Modi hasn’t hidden his fondness for foreign leaders. He has embraced them, tweeted at them, and sent them birthday wishes—all in an effort to make India a global player in international affairs. So when Canadian Prime Minister Justin Trudeau, he of the perfect coiffure, high-voltage smile, and beautiful family arrived in New Delhi this week for a state visit, it should have been a perfect photo-op. Instead, neither Modi nor any of his senior ministers showed up to receive the Trudeaus.
Trudeau has smiled his way through India, however, meeting with business executives, signing billions of dollars worth of business deals, posing for photographs with Bollywood actors, and donning Indian attire befitting his own Indian wedding reception. The Indians, for their part, have denied the Canadian prime minister is being snubbed (one unnamed official went as far as to call it “protocol”). But a snub it is—and the diplomatic brush-off has its roots in an Indian separatist movement from the 1980s and present-day Canadian domestic politics.
How did Missouri’s Republican governor go from rising star to felony charges in barely one year?
It’s customary to refer to a politician’s quick rise as “meteoric.” Overlooked in that cliché is a truth about what happens to meteorites: They strike the ground violently and destructively.
That’s worth considering in light of the meteoric rise of Missouri Governor Eric Greitens, who was arrested Thursday afternoon and charged with felony invasion of privacy charges in connection with a 2015 extramarital affair. The first-term Republican has not resigned, but he’ll face an uphill battle to hold onto his office, and his once-bright political career seems likely to, well, crater.
Greitens’s troubles began in early January, when several outlets reported that he had engaged in an extramarital affair in 2015. The ex-husband of Greitens’s former lover surreptitiously recorded her describing how Greitens had photographed her nude and indicated that the images would serve as blackmail material. “You’re never going to mention my name, otherwise this picture will be everywhere,” she quoted him as saying on the tape.
Decades before he ran the Trump campaign, Paul Manafort’s pursuit of foreign cash and shady deals laid the groundwork for the corruption of Washington.
The clinic permitted Paul Manafort one 10-minute call each day. And each day, he would use it to ring his wife from Arizona, his voice often soaked in tears. “Apparently he sobs daily,” his daughter Andrea, then 29, texted a friend. During the spring of 2015, Manafort’s life had tipped into a deep trough. A few months earlier, he had intimated to his other daughter, Jessica, that suicide was a possibility. He would “be gone forever,” she texted Andrea.
His work, the source of the status he cherished, had taken a devastating turn. For nearly a decade, he had counted primarily on a single client, albeit an exceedingly lucrative one. He’d been the chief political strategist to the man who became the president of Ukraine, Viktor Yanukovych, with whom he’d developed a highly personal relationship.
The microscopic kind, not the scary, slimy monster type
On the night before Halloween in 1938, a strange story crackled over radios across the United States. An announcer interrupted the evening’s regular programming for a “special bulletin,” which went on to describe an alien invasion in a field in New Jersey, complete with panicked eyewitness accounts and sounds of gunfire. The story was, of course, fake, a dramatization of The War of The Worlds, the science-fiction novel published by H. G. Wells in 1898. But not all listeners knew that. The intro to the segment was quite vague, and those who tuned in a few minutes into the show found no suggestion that what they were hearing wasn’t true.
The exact nature of the reaction of these unlucky listeners has been debated in the decades since the broadcast. Some say thousands of people dashed out of their homes and into the streets in terror, convinced the country was under attack by Martians. Others say there was no such mass panic. Regardless of the actual scale of the reaction, the event helped cement an understanding that would later be perpetuated in science-fiction television shows and films: Humans, if and when they encounter aliens, probably aren’t going to react well.
The rapper’s charming “God’s Plan” video shows him donating a million dollars around Miami—and earning something for himself.
Dip into the strangely hypnotic filmgenre thatdocumentsthe Publishers Clearing House delivering jumbo checks to people, andyou begin to notice a pattern. When the “Prize Patrol” first knocks on a door, the sweepstakes winner might gasp and hesitantly smile at the cameras and the balloons, recognizing the familiarscript they’ve suddenly been inserted into. But it’s when the money is actually presented, and the amount of the prize revealed, that the crying begins. As a viewer, you feel happy for the winner. You feel gratitude for the Clearing House. And you start wondering what that jumbo check could do for you.
Drake’s new video for “God’s Plan,” the No. 1 song in the country, bottles and elevates that Publishers Clearing House feeling. In it, the Toronto superstar distributes his million-dollar production budget to people around Miami—by telling all the shoppers in a Sabor Tropical Supermarket that everything on the shelves are free, by presenting a scholarship check to an unsuspecting student, by giving gift cards to women at a shelter, and more. The double-takes are the best parts. In one moment, Drake sidles up to a family who’s sitting on a ledge. One of the kids notices the rapper sitting next to her, and shrieks. Drake smiles and hands the family a wad of cash. Star-struck thrill melts into a more tender emotion. The family members cover their eyes, and they hug.