It can’t happen, can it…
I’ve not felt this way since 2007, like a predator eyeing tomorrow’s weakness, sensing the cracks in the veneer of supposed financial genius. My nemesis: the rational hedge fund manager, cool and calculated, wrapped in the protective layers of academic precision, minting his millions. His comfort zone is built on the premises of steady GDP growth, inflation finally bowing to the will of the Fed, and a "Goldilocks" economy, where everything is just right. They’re lining up to celebrate.
