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 2025.  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, and throughout our office,
Market conditions were making us nauseous.
We researched our stock lists on Bloomberg with care,
But finding a value worth buying was rare.

Our analysts hunkered down snug in their cubes,
In hopes their portfolios weren’t going to tube.
With equity prices exceedingly high,
It felt like the end of the bull run was nigh.

When outside our building, there rose such a clatter,
I sprang to the window to check on the matter.
The sky was a maelstrom of lightning and thunder —
And clouds that resembled the late Charlie Munger.

But then the cloud spoke, and I stood there aghast,
It must be the ghost of Investment-Styles-Past.
“Relax” the ghost told me and asked my vocation —
Reluctantly, I said I did valuation.

The ghost exclaimed “Well, that’s a worthy pursuit,
“It helped me amass quite a big pile of loot.”
“I’m afraid things have changed,” I began my reply,
“No one cares about models; they just want AI.”

I whined about Bitcoin and the magnificent seven,
All bid up to levels not known up in heaven.
The dollar keeps rising, even though rates are falling,
That tech stocks were high though their growth rates were stalling.

“What of it?” he shot back. “It can’t be that bad.
“There’s always a value that’s there to be had.”
I murmured the market found value passé,
And motioned the ghost to please go away.

“Bah Humbug!” said Munger, “now don’t be a jerk!
“Hand over your spreadsheets and I’ll check your work.”
His eyes — how they twinkled — the Berkshire Vice Chair,
As he combed through my models while floating in air.

He spoke not a word, but he grinned with a smirk,
While he banged on an adding machine like a clerk.
“I could tell why your numbers looked off in my sleep —
You only like stocks you can buy on the cheap.”

“Of course I want in on the cheap” I replied,
“The math says it helps me improve ROI.”
I went on to tell him of my allocations,
To lots of cheap names to reduce correlations.

“Diversification? Don’t give me that rap,
“If you mix turds and cherries — it still smells like crap!
“Buying bad stocks makes me sick in the gut,
“It’s like smoking someone’s old cigarette butt.”

He lectured on patience, and keeping things simple,
And preached about value like a priest in a temple.
How great opportunities are nothing to squander,
And he gave me a ticker or two I could ponder.

Then he raised his right hand, and waved me goodbye,
And made his way back to his fund in the sky.
But I heard him exclaim, as he faded from sight,
“Buy great stocks, pay fairly, and sleep well at night!”