It has become a tradition for the RIA team at Mercer Capital to end the blog year with a “unique” annual summary of industry events, riffing off Clement Clark Moore’s classic “A Visit from St. Nicholas.”  We hope all of you in the investment management community are enjoying the holiday season and looking forward to the many opportunities of the new year.  We look forward to hearing from you in 2023.  For now, please enjoy the finest only holiday poem written about money management.

Happy Holidays from Mercer Capital’s RIA Team!

‘Twas the night before Christmas, when all through our firm,
We looked back on a year that was filled with concern;
The stockings were hung by the chimney with care,
In hopes ’23 wouldn’t be such a bear.

Our analysts diligenced, scratching their heads,
O’re down-sloping yield curves that offered no spreads;
And tech stocks deflated, and rates out of sight –
Each glance at the Bloomberg made anxious with fright.

When out in the hall there arose such a clatter,
I set down my coffee to check on the matter;
Away to the lobby I flew like a flash,
As good bankers do when they fear for their cash.

When what to my wondering eyes should appear,
But the ghost of Paul Volcker, looking quite debonair;
A phantom in grey flannel, the Fed superstar,
Who floated in haze from his giant cigar.

“Good sir!” I addressed this strange apparition
“Is it you: the inflation-fighting magician?”
“The same” said the ghost, “and I sense from your query,
That interest-rate changes have made your life dreary.”

I told him our clients, ‘cross the RIA spectrum,
Had found this past year quite a pain in the rectum;
Business down, costs up, was the theme of my story,
A punch to the gut that was not transitory:

“First they killed crypto, then housing, then bonds!
Every asset we held faced a flock of black swans!
I blame the Fed board for all of this rot,
My life was all good, ‘til they changed the Dot Plot!”

“Relax!” cried the ghost, “don’t show your stupidity,
There is such a thing as too much liquidity;
Preserving your wealth is no justification,
For letting the world suffer global stagflation.

“When I was named Chair, we were on the back foot,
But we didn’t give markets an endless Fed put!
Your stocks will recover, your bonds will be fine,
As soon as Jay Powell makes inflation decline.”

He said plenty more, as is such with his work,
He answered my questions; then turned with a jerk.
A heav’nly elevator appeared there before us,
And he boarded to hymns of the central bank chorus.

Adjusting his glasses, perched high on his nose,
He gave me a nod just before the doors closed.
But I heard him exclaim, as he rose out of sight –
“Don’t fight what we do, and your bets will go right!”