T’was The Night Before Christmas – The #SantaYellen Edition by $hane Obata and Triggers
T’was the night before Christmas, when all through the house,
EM FX was stirring, and in Russia, there was a rout.
The stockings were hung by the chimney with care,
In hopes that #SantaYellen soon would be there.
The children were nestled all snug in their beds,
While visions of US Treasury bonds danced in their heads.
And mamma in her ‘kerchief’, and I in my cap,
Had just settled our brains for a long winter’s nap.
When out on the lawn there arose such a clatter,
I sprang from the bed to see what was the matter.
To the window I flew like next year’s rates forecast,
Tore open the shutters and threw up my cash.
At this year's SALT New York conference, Jean Hynes, the CEO of Wellington Management, took to the stage to discuss the role of active management in today's investment environment. Hynes succeeded Brendan Swords as the CEO of Wellington at the end of June after nearly 30 years at the firm. Wellington is one of the Read More
The moon on the breast of the new-fallen snow,
Gave the luster of gold guy’s shirt below.
When, what to my wondering eyes should appear,
But a miniature sleigh, and eight #Fed reindeer.
With a little old driver, so lively and not sellin’,
I knew in a moment it must be #SantaYellen.
More rapid than oil’s price decline they came,
And she whistled, and shouted, and called them by name!
“Now, Fischer! Now, Plosser! Now, Dudley and Evans!
On, Bullard! On, Mester! On, Powell and Williams!
To the top of the porch! To the top of the wall!
Now dash away! Dash away! Dash away all!”
As dry leaves that before the wild hurricane fly,
When they meet with an obstacle, mount to the $SPY.
So up to the house-top the courses they flew,
With the sleigh full of Fed Notes, and #SantaYellen too.
And then, in a twinkling, I heard on the roof,
The prancing and pawning of each little hoof.
As I drew in my head, and was turning around,
Down the chimney #SantaYellen came with a bound.
She was dressed all in fur, from her head to her foot,
And her clothes were all tarnished with ashes and soot.
A bundle of liquidity she had flung on her back,
And she looked like a peddler, just opening her pack.
Her eyes – how they twinkled! Her dimples how merry!
Her cheeks were like roses, her nose like a cherry!
Her droll little mouth was drawn up like a bow,
And the beard of her chin was as white as the snow.
The stump of a pipe she held tight in her teeth,
And the smoke it encircled her head like a wreath.
She had a broad face and an Android celly,
That shook when she got texts such as “when’s the next QE?”.
She was boring and lovely, a right jolly old elf,
And I laughed when I saw her, in spite of myself!
A wink of her eye and a twist of her head,
Soon gave me to know that I loved the #Fed.
She spoke not a word, but went straight to her work,
And filled all the stockings, as the markets turned with a jerk.
And laying her finger aside of her nose,
And giving a nod, up the chimney she rose!
She sprang to her sleigh, to her team gave a whistle,
And away they all flew like the down of a thistle.
But I heard her exclaim, as she drove out of sight,
“Happy Christmas to all, and to the bears – good-night!”