The good, the bad and the Gross: A look back at the ‘Bond King’s’ best quotes
Bill Gross, who has described himself as a “70-year old Justin Bieber”, is known for his…unusual investment letters. In light of his latest — in which he declared “Bonds, like men, are in a bear market” — here is a look back at some of his eccentric missives:
The time he wrote about the pleasures of sneezing:
There’s nothing like a good sneeze; maybe a hot shower or an ice cream sandwich, but no – nothing else even comes close. A sneeze is, to be candid, sort of half erotic, a release of pressure that feels oh so good either before or just after the Achoo! The air, along with 100,000 germs, comes shooting out of your nose faster than a race car at the Indy 500.
The time Mr Gross mourned his pet cat:
Aside from sleeping, Bob loved nothing more than to follow me from room to room making sure I was OK. It got to be a little much at times, especially when entering and exiting the shower. I’m not a particularly shy guy, but then why was a female cat named Bob checking me out all the time? Her obsession carried over to the TV, sensing when I was on CNBC and paying apt attention no less. I often asked her about her recommendations for pet food stocks, and she frequently responded – one meow for “no,” two meows for a “you bet.” She was less certain about interest rates, but then it never hurt to ask.
The time he mourned his lack of a six-pack:
The midsection of a 67-year-old is not a pretty sight. No matter how many sit-ups I do during my daily workouts there are no six-pacs there, or anywhere in the vicinity for that matter. I can’t even get a one-pac going. Perhaps that’s because so many Budweiser six-packs made their way downstream over the past half century or so. In any case, not being able to avoid seeing my spare tire, I take my wife Sue’s advice when it comes to weighing herself – do it only first thing in the morning. In this case, there is the additional appeal of lights being dim and if I can creep past the bathroom mirror while turning my head the other way, then all the better.
The time he failed to get a girl into the backseat of his car:
Being somewhat of a high school star, I decided to try out for the taxi squad on the freshman team. Duke that year was well stacked with three future All Americans and NBA players but they needed some competition in practice and I was a prospective servant for the greater cause – not Duke – but my chance to show off and eventually get a girl into the backseat of a car for the first time in my life. Neither came to pass as I was cut during the first tryout session and cut frequently as well on second and third dates in parking lots behind the sorority houses.
The time he fancied himself a philosopher:
I am a philosophical nomad disguised in Western clothing, a wondering drifter, masquerading in a suit near a California beach. Sand forms the foundation of my being and its porosity is at once my greatest strength and deepest wound. I have become after 70 years, a man who believes that no belief is sacred. I have ideals and moral standards, but I believe them specific to me. Had I inherited your body and ego, “I” could just as clearly have assumed “yours.”
If so, I wonder, if values are relative, then what are mortals to make of them, and what would a judging God make of us? If a collective humanity is to be rooted in sandy loam, spreading its ideological seeds through howling winds only to root in mutant form at different places and different times, can we judge an individual life?
Thursday’s letter has already joined the ranks of his most quoteable, with one foot seemingly planted in the #MeToo movement and the other in the “Not All Men” camp:
Women have gotten the short stick or metaphorically the short rib ever since Eve, and I’m with Oprah for president and much, much more but hey, guys have got a few positive qualities that need to be mentioned. I mean when basketball players miss a free throw these days, they still get “low fives” from all their teammates. So here are a few low fives for men, men, men.
Men need fewer pairs of shoes and purses.
Men live 10 years less on average. They truly are the weaker sex. Feel sorry for ‘em ladies, not angry.
Men shouldn’t be criticized for not putting the toilet seat down. If they need to put it down, hey will. If women do too, they can use their foot just like everyone else.
Men run faster, jump higher and are much better at not communicating.
Sure men start wars but great things actually are a result of them. Canned foods owe their origin to Napoleon, microwave ovens to the invention of radar during WWII, and the Internet (not Al Gore) to the fear of Russia bombing U.S. telephone lines during the Cold War. Way to go guys. Keep starting those wars.
Men always know where the remote control is. Right next to them.
I could go on and on. I won’t. I don’t dare. Actually most of the world’s problems would go away if men just stayed home, watched football and learned to talk to their partners during commercial breaks. There are certainly enough of them.