Dear Bengal Man,

I am not too good with abstact thinking. As I have told coach in earlier posts, I never went to college. Therefore, please answer the following question for me: Is the point of your post that we might all take a serious haircut by investing in CryoPort?

Dear Mr. Chudd,

Yes, I agree that this board has become somewhat ethereal and much too abstract for me. Coach and I would like to see the tonew of this board brought back to reality and, as coach says about himself, we must not forget to hear the VoR (Voice of Reason)in his #2255.

How can we soar like an Eagle I, when we are fettered with earthly concerns like tigers, traders, lawyers, economists and politicians?

To paraphrase Mr. Baseball Fan, we are in a new ballgame now and we should recognize it.

Yours was a great post.

My dear Bengal Man,

Ohmygawd! That is just too funny! Great one.

Soaring, riding the float, filled with meaning. Heading for the bluest of blue, the purest of pure.

To quote John Keats:

"'Beauty is truth, truth beauty,—that is all
Ye know on earth, and all ye need to know.'"

To All CryoPort Shareholders:

In his post (#2347), Mr. Bust asked how CryoPort found Mr. Stambaugh. Mr. Fan gave his opinion in his post (#2348). Unfortunately, and with all due respect for the opinions and information that Mr. Fan puts forth on this board, I have to correct him on this one. Indeed, Mr. Fan struck out (Coach: Baseball reference) and it has become my duty to correct the record for all fellow Hubbies.

I happen to know that Mr. Stambaugh loves fishing. He goes for the big ones, the challenging ones, the ones that require the most experience and the most seasoned strategies for making “the big catch”. In a word, Mr. Stambaugh is a sportsman or, as they say in fishing, a “rodman”.

I also happen to know that Mr. Stambaugh loves cold. Whether it is the weather, Indian ice cream or whatever, he likes to spend a certain amount of his time in very cold and very challenging environments. I think it brings him back to basics, to his own spiritus mundi and, perhaps, to his own personal quest for validity. Some people go after the brass ring, others seek what the Hindus refer to as “the five tiles” on the road to Nirvana. This is one reason why I, personally, am very happy to see him as our CEO.

About three months ago, Mr. Stambaugh was heading for the Barents Sea. You’re talking north of Norway and Finland here, and this is no-nonsense stuff in January. Only the most seasoned, the most experienced and the most knowledgeable practitioners of the art of the hunt venture to this part of the world in January.

Here is where the story (as told to me) gets a little confusing. The cab driver, who was taking Mr. Stambaugh to the John Wayne airport in Orange County, somehow misunderstood what Mr. Stambaugh said to him about where he needed to go. (I have been told that the cab driver was born in Southern California and, indeed, was a recent graduate of a typical American high-school. My source also said that the driver spoke functional English and that nobody quite understands what happened next.)

To make a long story short, Mr. Stambaugh somehow ended up on Barents Sea Circle, where the CryoPort headquarters are located, and not on the Barents Sea. He ended up in the lobby of the CryoPort headquarters! Is this unbelievable, or what? [My own theory is that he must have seen the word “cryo”, (which in Ancient Greek meant “icy cold” or “freezing”), on the front door and that he became attracted to the name, due to his inherent love of cold. Compare this to silly me and my story of how I was attracted to the prefix “cryo”. It is almost embarrassing.]

One of the people at the CryoPort headquarters described the following scene to me: It is early January. A great big burly guy, unshaven, walks in to the lobby of our company. He is carrying a big duffel bag stuffed with clothes, fishing equipment and various items of “survival gear”. He is wearing a heavy coat, gloves and has a big wool scarf wrapped around his neck. Add huge, oversized fishing boots and a heavy wool ski hat to the picture and you get some idea of how Mr. Stambaugh introduced himself to our company.

My source tells me that Mr. Stambaugh was somewhat confused and dis-oriented when he first walked in to the building. I have been told that he started talking to the receptionist in the front lobby and that he was quickly ushered in to one of the offices in the restricted area at the back of the building. Some kind of lengthy discussion ensued with a few of the CryoPort personnel and it became obvious to those talking with him that Mr. Stambaugh knew something about their line of business. (I have been told that the real hint to the CryoPort people was when he said, “I have more than 30 years of successful experience building global businesses and setting strategies. I have an extensive background in life sciences and clean tech, including relationships with and knowledge of Contract Research Organizations, and biotech and pharmaceutical companies.”)

At one point in the conversation, my source overheard Mr. Stambaugh saying, “Hey. Do you guys need a good CEO? I’m available.” When I heard this part of the story, Spiro and I looked at each other in utter disbelief. The similarities between our story, and the unlikely and unpredictable nature of the events which brought us together, were just too coincidental with this one. The rest is history………………

Isn’t life interesting? Are there unknown fates in the world that are utterly unexplainable and beyond our control? Are their hidden forces at work, invisible to our eyes and to our consciousness, that are quietly creating what will eventually become actual events in life? (Coach: “Do you believe in miracles?”) I believe the answer is a strong “Yes” and this is why I rely on Spiro’s uncanny and unexplainable ability to sense the next revelation.

I have but one question regarding this story: In our quest for success, is Mr. Stambaugh a “second chance” for us? Is our company that “rough beast” that Yeats talks about, whose hour has come around at last?

It is almost Easter. We sense a great revelation is at hand. Carpe diem……………

Dear Bengal Man,

You have asked a very intelligent and interesting question here. (“Question: Why is this rally different from all other rallies?”) Unfortunately, I cannot answer your question, as far as technical trading considerations are concerned. .I might be able to shed some light on your query, however, by telling you what Spiro has been doing for the past ten days.

In a word, not much. (Coach: I know this is two words, but it does accurately describe Spiro's most recent behavior. Please allow me some poetic license, or "cut me some slack", as they might say on the ball field.) Spiro has been somewhat lethargic after our return a few weeks ago. Lately, he doesn't sit much on my leather gauntlet. Rather, he prefers to sort of recline, bird style, and to eat only meat that has been roasted. (I’ve been giving him little pieces of lamb lately.)

Why is he acting this way? I am not sure. I think it might have something to do with the time of year and I strongly suspect that it is connected with our new home location. After all, what else could it be? Why is this year different from all other years? He has never acted this way before.

Here is the way I see it: Spring is in the air, daylight savings time is upon us, pitchers and catchers have reported, it’s March Madness, golf season has begun again and we are nearing Easter. (Coach: Hang in here. I don’t want anything to passover your head on this particular post.) The world is pregnant with a new awakening and, amidst all of this excitement and spiritus of rebirth, Spiro is listless and fidgety, he picks out gnats and flies from his wing feathers with his beak and he is restless, like a nervous frog, for something. It plagues me to figure out what it is that he senses in the air. (“Surely some revelation is at hand.”)

Now back to your question about the present rally that seems to be happening in the markets. If there a relationship between this rally and other rallies that have occurred in the past, I certainly don’t know. I do know, however, that CryoPort, in particular, seems to be in a different position, today, than it has ever been in the past. You might agree that it looks like we have maror going for us now than ever before and that our rally is different from all other rallies in our stock.

At this point you are probably asking yourself, Where is this all going? Where will we be next year? What forces will reveal themselves and determine our future?

Who knows. We must allow Spiritus Mundi to pass over Eden Valley and to find that rough beast that slouches towards Nashville to be first-born.

"Today is day four. If today does not bring any news, should we be disappointed?" BBF


"The trumpet of a prophecy! O Wind,
If Winter comes, can Spring be far behind?"

...the last lines from Shelley's "Ode to the West Wind".

BBF, I like your style.

The opening lines of T.S. Eliot's "The Wasteland" read

April is the cruelest month, breeding
Lilacs out of the dead land, mixing
Memory and desire, stirring
Dull roots with spring rain.

Dear hstrader:

Thank you for responding to my post. Under normal circumstances I would be somewhat insulted at being called "a hoot" because, as you well know, owls are not my bag. I am a MotherFalconer who has studied the art and science of falconry for years and this is where my heart, soul and social life reside.

As for owls, however, I'll tell you why I sort of like them: When Spiro nails one, it saves me rib-eye money. He goes for both the hoots and the screechers. Nothing makes much of a difference when you're the top dog (that one was for you coach) in the sky.

My Thanks to Mr. CryoPort, Mr. Fan and a few of my other Hubbies

I find your responses to my post #2268 to be fascinating. I now understand more about the (very smart and very honest bankers’ and financial advisors’) “quintiles” game than I did a week ago. You guys are very resourceful and very smart with your research. Evidently, you guys think that the potential business for CryoPort, through CROs and labs, is staggering. The bankers up here seem to agree, from what I can understand of their discussions and jokes about ‘Port.

I get lost when these guys start flipping the shipping tiles and talking about algorithms and probabilities. (Coach: Remember I never went to college. Math has never been my best friend. I was writing instruction manuals for Japanese consumer electronics products when people like you were in college.) The algorithm part really threw me until a few of the guys walked me through how this stock stuff really works.

Let me explain. I thought an algorithm had something to do with Al Gore, the former Vice President of the United States, who lives in Tennessee. In my mind, there was a connection here between Memphis, Tennessee and the Al Gore rhythm idea. Silly me thought this was what Mr. CryoPort was hinting at when he talked about Elvis, bananas, peanut butter sandwiches, Memphis and the like in his post #2312.

To me, the AlGore rhythm concept made perfect sense in its connection to CryoPort. Use the CryoPort Express shipper and be kind to the cycles and natural rhythm of the universe. Get rid of the dry ice, get rid of the styro foam containers, stop polluting the earth and you have an AlGorerhythm.

I quickly found out last night that this is not exactly what the CryoPort Quartet (aka the “CryoQuarts”) guys mean when they talk about stock trading, algorithms and the “explosive price and growth potential” (I love it when they wax on and on about all the money they will make on ‘Port) of our stock. I sit there and listen, ask questions and do my best to absorb the wealth of knowledge and experience that these honest and smart financial advisors possess. Spiro sits there quietly, rustles his feathers, occasionally looks over to me for a small piece of rib eye and absorbs. Trust me on this, however: Spiro listens and says nothing, but this should not be mistaken for blind belief on his part. Nobody hoodwinks (this one’s for you coach) the number one predator in the bird world.

Again, I want to thank all of you, (especially my new friends, Mr. CryoPort and Mr. Fan), for the excellent research that you have done concerning the meaning of the word “quintiles” and the role that we could play in the CRO world. I had no idea. (It is still embarrassing to me how I got involved with this company in the first place: Cryogenic personalities and an Internet portal to help these poor, sad people. Ohmygawd…)

To All CYRX Shareholders, (Special Emphasis to Mr. Cryoport)

In his post #2312, Mr. Cryoport stated that he had “Just got back from western Mass visiting BMAN. Unfortunately he had a relapse. He was mumbling something about price and volume, they've got him pretty doped up.
I asked the Nurse did you see his falcon. She told me no. The nurse told me when they found him, he was wearing an Elvis outfit with a half eaten grilled peanut butter and banana sandwich in his pocket.”

There is a portion of Mr. Cryoport’s message above that is, indeed, true. Yes, Mr. Cryoport did visit me in Western Mass. He had contacted me a few weeks ago after I told him, in a public message (#2243) on this board, that he had insulted me when he talked about running far far away from CryoPort stock shares if the company did not come up with something substantive very soon.

(In that message I told all of you to note that he did not say to “head for the hills”, which I did and which is where I, indeed, live. Rather, he explicitly stated that people should run “far far away” if no significant announcements emanate from the company in the near future. If you care enough, then take the time to think about the world of difference between the meaning and implications of the phrase “run far far away” and the cognitive, directive concept represented by the action of “heading for the hills” (again, which I consciously chose to do and which is now where I live) . In short order you will understand that the difference here is huge and, upon further contemplation, you will most probably understand and agree with my feelings of personal insult that Mr. Cryoport’s backhanded comment elicited. [Coach: I strongly suggest you stop reading this particular post here. It gets deep, somewhat intellectual, a bit psychological and…....well…….in all honesty, it’s just not your kind a’ deal.])

Subsequent to my public post (#2243), Mr. Cryoport and I had some e-mail “conversations”. I informed him that I was going to be in Western Mass. this past week, visiting friends at the institute for mental rehabilitation and restoration, where I used to live. Mr. Cryoport informed me that he was going to be flying to New Jersey on March 22 and that he would first come to Western Mass. to spend some time with me and my friends. He did this and I appreciate his concern and his efforts towards reconciliation. During the three days that he stayed with me, at the guest quarters for visitors of patients at the institute, we talked about a number of important subjects and we reached an understanding.

Now, let us discuss some facts and then some business. I was at the institute to visit friends whom I care about. (Or, as Winston Churchill would have said, “…to visit friends about whom I care.”) These dear people have cryogenic personalities and I feel their pain. It is difficult for me to see smart, educated, creative people sit in front of a window, day after day, only to stare at the world outside with tears in their eyes and a gaze blank and pitiless as the sun.

While there last week, I also had a few therapeutic sessions with some of the doctors who had treated me in the past for my condition. (Contrary to coach’s assumption (#2311) that I am bipolar and have to receive, what he calls, “meds” from someone named “PB” (Does this stand for ”Pill Broker”?), I was at the institute primarily because I have a tendency to continuously dwell on certain aspects of things and tend to become distracted from what some might call “the big picture”. I have often thought to myself that my inability to pull away from minutia is one reason why I am such a good match with my dear falcon, Spiro. We understand each other: He sees the forest. I see the trees. Together we contemplate, evaluate and usually discover truth in whatever subject matter is at hand.)

After my sessions with some of the doctors, I was somewhat distracted and taken aback with a few of the breakthroughs that these sessions produced. I was in a zone, wherein my consciousness had transcended the immediate present and had proceeded to enter that certain realm that I had, in the past, assumed to be available only to Spiro. To Mr. Cryoport, I might have seemed “doped up”, as he incorrectly stated in his post. (For the record, I take no medicines of any kind. “Doping” is not my modus operandi. Information and discovery is what I thrive on and is what I pursue.)

My “mumbling something about price and volume” was not mumbling at all. I told Mr. Cryoport that I was buying big time last week and that the price and volume were interesting to me. I explicitly stated to him my belief that Spiro’s ruffling of feathers in the past two weeks and his panic-stricken seizure at the party two Friday nights ago (post #2262) were indicative to me that surely some revelation is at hand. I bought big time last week, I shall buy more this week. I shall take the advice of the very honest and very experienced investment counselors and bankers, who are my neighbors on Banker Hill, to purchase more shares of ‘Port (their expression) in the very immediate future. I find this simple and straightforward and don’t exactly understand Mr. Cryoport’s version of what he thought had occurred during our visit.

“I asked the Nurse did you see his falcon. She told me no.” This part of Mr. Cryoport’s message is true and factually correct. . I did leave Spiro at home. He is probably sitting in a big pine tree, as we speak, looking out over Eden Valley and contemplating what he sees below. My guess is that he is also in a type of “zone” and that we will have lots to talk about when I return to the hills tomorrow.

I left Spiro at home because (1) I didn’t want him to distract my cryogenic friends from the substance of my visit and (2) I always want to make sure that Spiro remains the supreme predator that he is and that he does not become dependent on my rewards for good behavior, which usually consist of rib-eye or something similar.

“The nurse told me when they found him, he was wearing an Elvis outfit with a half eaten grilled peanut butter and banana sandwich in his pocket.” This is cute and proves that Mr. Cryoport has a budding sense of humour. The word “him” in Mr. Cryoport’s sentence is a pronoun which refers to Spiro, not me. In other words, according to Mr. “C” (banker talk, again), Spiro was last seen “wearing an Elvis outfit with a half-eaten grilled peanut butter and banana sandwich in his pocket.” This is cute. I like the imagery and I like his writing. As for Spiro, trust me that, when he is with me, he wears a leather hood over his head with no pockets, no Elvis outfits and no peanut butter and banana sandwiches.

The remainder of Mr. Cryoport’s message is very interesting but some of it eludes me. He says that “the falcon has all the answers. …. Dressed like Elvis, peanut butter and banana grill sandwich, Memphis!” Is there someone named Memphis who is dressed like Elvis with a peanut butter and a banana grill sandwich? I am lost. I don’t get it. There is something to what Mr. “C” is talking about here, but I don’t see it yet.

If Mr. Cryoport is talking about the city of Memphis, then how can Spiro be so similar to a city? Memphis is a city and Spiro is a magnificent creature, the ultimate predator, the ruler of his world. What is there in Memphis that “rules its world”? What great force in our civilization is based in Memphis? What is from Memphis that can change some facet of how the world works or how the world conducts some aspect of its business? It certainly isn’t Graceland.

I am the first to admit that I am lost at this moment. All I can say now is that, during part of our conversation, I was driving Mr. “C” back to the regional airport in North Hampton so that he could catch a commuter jet to his destination in New Jersey. There was intermittent noise from the planes and I didn’t hear everything that he said. I caught a piece of a phrase about lunch or dinner with his ex-wife, but I didn’t pursue it because I don’t know Mr. “C” that well.

I thought about it later. Why would he tell me that he “fed his ex”, or something that sounded like that? Why is a “fed ex” important to me and why is it my business? Strange guy, this Mr. Cryoport. Makes you wonder who his friends are and whether or not a few months at the institute might also do him some good.

Dear Mr. Long,

Thank you so much for your post regarding Quintiles. Now I know why these guys bust up laughing after one of them wins the five tiles. I think I might finally understand the connection...........

"Quintiles", five tiles, Indian ice cream, investors in CryoPort, explosive growth.... Is is beginning to make sense. Thank you for leading me to the ABC's of this puzzle.

My Dear Mr. Baseball Fan:

I don’t exactly know how to answer your question about the party. Here’s why.

When I take Spiro with me to these kinds of events, there is considerable attention paid to him. To be quite honest with you, sometimes I stand there with him on my arm, and feel like a ventriloquist holding a (very very smart and perceptive) “dummy” (to them). The ladies, especially, like to come up to him and talk to him. They don’t exactly understand that Spiro is a falcon, an ultimate predator who unequivocally rules his world. He is not a macaw, not a parrot and certainly not some kind of parakeet.

“Polly want a cracker?” they say. “Lady want a nose job?”, I’m thinking. They offer him food of all kinds: cookies, fruit, candies, matzo, Indian ice cream and whatever else they might like to eat. Little do they know that Spiro could peck their eyes out and eat half of their body fat in a matter of two hours.

What happens is that we become a type of “entertainment station” at these parties and I don’t get to see all that is happening. I have never seen “drinking games”, as you call them. Remember that I am new around here and I haven’t seen everything, I am sure.

Side parties? There are groups who like to hang out together and socialize but I wouldn’t call them a “side party”. These are just people who feel comfortable with each other in this type of setting. (I used to see this at the institute of mental rehabilitation in Western Mass. The schizophrenics hung out together and didn’t mix too much with the bipolars. The paranoids suspected everybody and hardly socialized at all. The narcissists stayed to themselves. The cryogenics absolutely hung together because, as you know, “Misery loves company”.)

There is one group that you might find interesting, if this is what you meant by a “side group”. This is a group of four sensible, conservative, prudent, honest and experienced investment bankers and hedge fund managers who pal around together. This group of four personifies the slow, gradual transformation that has occurred in the thinking up here. Frankly, it is utterly uncanny to me. (Coach: “Uncanny” means that something is strange, seeming to have a supernatural character or origin.)

These bankers and “hedgies”, as they like to call themselves, have become enamored with CryoPort. (Coach: Think gaga.) Here I am, a high-school graduate, getting these high-powered M.B.A.’s to become interested in our wildly speculative stock that has no revenues, no customers, no contracts, very little cash and very little inventory. Me, little ol’ me has them talking about “ ‘Port”, as they like to call the company. Interesting, isn’t it?

The four guys that have researched the company up one side and down the other. (One of them is the guy that said something to me about cucumberland at a party. Remember this story? See post #2001). They sit around at night, eating ice cream from India (they now have a vested interest in how the ice cream is shipped here) and discuss their ideas about the growth potential of the company and the “explosive potential” (their words) of the stock price. Since there are four of them, they jokingly refer to themselves as the CryoPort Quartet, or “the CryoQuarts”. (Coach: A quartet is four, a quintet is five, a sextet is six, etc….)

Here is their latest game. They save a small shipping label from each container of ice cream that they consume. The guys call these little labels “tiles” because they look like the small, one inch tiles that one might use in a shower or countertop area. After they consume enough containers of ice cream, they take these “tiles” and flip them in the air. Each of the four guys calls “heads” or “tails”, or something like that, and for each flip of a tile they each get some sort of fractional credit towards winning a complete tile for themselves. (I don’t really understand the process because it gets mathematical and math. is certainly not my strength.) The first guy to win five of these shipping tiles gets what they call “quintiles”. (Coach: Remember that the prefix “quint” implies five of something.) When this happens, they all bust up in a big belly laugh and again start talking about the explosive growth potential of “’Port”. Don’t ask me. Maybe somebody can explain to me what winning “quintiles” has to do with the explosive growth of CryoPort and its stock price.

As I have said in an earlier post, “Smart people say smart things.” I am the first to admit that I am not really that smart, so I don’t know what some of this stuff means. Interesting? Yes. Meaningful? I don’t know.

To All CYRX Shareholders: Report on Friday Night’s Party

Friday night’s party was, quite literally, fantastic. It was held in an incredible house that is owned by one of the very smart and very honest bank presidents who lives up here with his wife and family. The house is all art and glass, with incredible views of Eden Valley and the surrounding mountains. The lighting, the furniture, the art, the area rugs, even the toilet in the powder room are all done with a refined, sophisticated yet under-stated, hand. (I was in the house once before and I remember wondering what the decorator’s fees were to put something like this together.)

Picture this: Spiro and I arrive at the house and ring the door bell. The banker’s wife opens the door and we are met with a scene out of a cheap movie. There are rooms full of people yelling greetings to me and Spiro. Lights are flashing and music is blasting through a sound system that would humble the Kodak Theatre in Hollywood or any I-Max Theatre. A group of waiters are walking around serving everybody anything they want: Some with treys of Hors D’Oeuvres, others with wines and champagnes and one other with a selection of mixed drinks: Tom Collins, Scottch and sota in a shot glass (a “mini-sota”) and a huge selection of Vodkas mixed with various flavors of berry juices.


Huge banners are hanging from the entry hall ceiling that read

WELCOME BACK MOTHERFALCONER
and

WELCOME TO OUR HERO SPIRO AND HIS MF‘R


Combine all of this with crepe paper streamers and horns and whistles and you have a group of happy bankers, investment strategists, financial planners and money handlers that live in the hills and know how to party.

They were all happy to see us because we are sort of a curiosity item to these people and because a number of them saw me and Spiro on a news piece that was carried by the local CBS News station here. The piece dealt with us and the work that we did with the FAA, the NTSB and the Smithsonian Institute after the Hudson River plane crash.

I was touched and excited but Spiro was confused, scared, disoriented and downright ornery. I immediately felt his talons digging into my leather arm glove and, before I knew it, he was up in the air, heading for the huge skylight that was built into the 40 foot ceiling of the entryway. (You can imagine our hosts: The walls of the entry are covered with fabulous contemporary oil paintings. In their house they now have a fearless predator, the world’s fastest bird with speeds up to 230km per hour, flying out of control. With one quick flick of a talon he can tear a $250,000 hole through of one of their paintings.) Spiro had one thing on his mind: Get the hell out of here, get back outside and head for the hills. I know the feeling.

I immediately told everybody to be quiet because, if the falcon (Spiro) cannot hear the falconer (or MotherFalconer, as they like to call me), then we are all in trouble. Things could, quite literally, fall apart and some spectacular wall-mounted sculptures would not hold if the equivalent of a guided missile were to strike them. Pure fear and love of things expensive turned the crowd into a group of cowering shadows. Quiet prevailed. I whistled and called Spiro down from the ceiling fixtures and he quietly floated back to my arm. I stroked his head and feathers, talked to him in a soft tone, gave him a few chunks of rib-eye and all was again peaceful on Banker Hill.

Spiro is incredibly smart, observant and quasi-philosophical in his own way. I like to think of him as something that is ethereal and somewhat spiritual. (This is why I named him Spiritus Mundi.) But, let’s not forget that Spiro is at the top of his food chain and parties and revelry are not the first thing on his mind. Spiro is into observation, contemplation, calculation and constructive action---just like the bankers and investment managers on Banker Hill. This is probably why they all like him and why some of the wives got together and made a great big banner for Spiro that read

WELCOME BACK TO THE HOOD

This was a cute pun on a new leather hood that they bought for Spiro’s head. We went into the “great room”, off the entry, and quietly put it on him and a few of the guests took his picture (without flash) with me, him and some of their friends.

The rest of the evening was about as lovely as anything can be. You name it: food, drinks, wines, desserts and a selection of after-dinner Port wines. (More on the Port wines and the comments about ‘Port later.) I couldn’t help but think to myself: “What is a little guy like me doing here, hanging around with all of these big shot bankers? This is amazing. Here I am-- the new guy on Banker Hill, walking around with Spiro on my arm and rubbing elbows with some of “the smartest guys in the room”. Isn’t life interesting? I have traveled from a mental health institute in Western Mass. to the hills above Eden Valley. All of this due to a crazy misunderstanding of what CryoPort does for a living and from following some sound advice from a guy named “coach”. Almost enough to make you believe in god…………….

Near the end of the evening, after many of the guests had left for their respective villas, I got a nod from a guy, directing me to go outside for a quiet chat. This particular banker is part of a group of five very smart and very experienced investors who specialize in micro cap companies. I think I mentioned, in a previous post, that there was a particular group of five guys who loved to talk and analyze stocks and who loved their drinks. This banker was one of the guys.

Outside we went and I found myself standing under a type of tarpaulin that covered a very elegant spa-type structure that was obviously intended for summer parties. He told me we could stand under the “tarp”, as he called it, and he assured me that we would be well-protected from what he referred to as “the elements”. So here I am, with Spiro on my left arm observing this whole scene, talking with five smart bankers while standing under a “tarp”. Life is interesting.

Guess what they wanted to talk to me about. CryoPort. They wanted to give me advice because they like me and because I introduced them to the stock when I first met them and told them my story of why I had moved to Banker Hill. One of the older guys from “Solly” (Solomon Brothers) started the meeting with: “Son, do you know what you sold here? Do you understand what this company is going to be? According to our research and according to our contacts in this industry, ‘Port is………” He went on and on with numbers, statistics, market share, drug and vaccine testing in India, FedEx and a host of facts and figures that only the best and the brightest could have dug up. One of his favorite phrases, with reference to ’Port, as they now call it, was “disruptive technology”. He must have said it three times while waxing eloquent on the potential of CryoPort. (I was standing there thinking of the frightening events that had happened earlier when we arrived and Spiro freaked. This is what I call “disruptive technology”.)

To make a short’s story long (that one was for you coach), he and the other guys insisted that I start buying CryoPort today at the open. Their sincere advice to me was very simple: “Regain your former position. Get back into this stock now and at any price down here. Don’t worry about a penny here or a penny there--- it’s peanuts over the big picture. This thing is about to explode.”

I think they know something. I suspect that their extensive research and contacts in the cold-shipping and biologics industries has led them to strongly believe that this could be “a real deal” as one of them put it. Note that throughout the discussion, Spiro didn’t budge. This tells me that a revelation is surely at hand.

Meanwhile, while talking to the guys, it had started to snow on Banker Hill. It was a light, feathery type of snow that glistened in the moonlight as it floated down to earth. I hadn’t noticed it until I walked out from under the protective tarp to head for home. “Nice guys, these bankers”, I thought to myself. “Very nice of them to help me and to treat me so well.”

Spiro was calm and borderline asleep as we walked to my house. We stopped and looked down at the valley below. There was the RMS CryoPort stuck in the frozen river. There was the glistening snow that was accumulating even further as we enjoyed the peaceful scene. I returned to my lovely little place on the Hill, turned on my computer and put in a series of buy orders for Monday morning.

I am now back in. I am now again a CryoPort shareholder. I am now in a deal with “the smartest guys in the room”. Spiro is outside riding the float, and I am in my office placing even more buy orders for CryoPort.

Peace at last………

Dear Mr. Eagle,

I have been gone for the past few months and don’t remember reading your posts previously.

Thank you for your concern about my falcon and tonight’s party. Spiritus enjoys spirits, but in extremely small amounts. Every once in a while I mix a weak solution of Scottch and sota for him. (I call it a “Scottch and mini-sota.”) He drinks about a half-thimble and that’s about it. It’s fun to watch him after the spirits begin to affect his corner “of the world”, aka mundi. (That one was for you coach.)

As for the party tonight, I think it will be interesting. The group of very smart and honest investment bankers and financial planners, who live up here, is an impressive group of people. Most have degrees in business and economics and MBA degrees flow around here like….....like.......…theCumberlandRiverintheSpring. I do more listening than talking because, as I explained to coach in a post in January, I never went to college. I try to learn from these people and increase my understanding of what makes a good investment in the “stuck market” (another one for you , coach) and how I might one day learn what sectors and what companies will prosper in the future. Smart people say smart things. I listen and my falcon stares at their facial expressions and body language.

What he is thinking, at a given time, I don’t know. I find out later when we are alone and when we are communicating, in our own inimitable way. (One of my expressions that I use with him, sometimes, is “From your beak to god’s ears.” This is when he “says” something encouraging.)

I am leaving now for the party. If there is anything interesting to report, then I shall post over the weekend. I can now post whenever I want because the U.S. Government gave me a laptop computer for my duties with the FAA. My days of relying on Tuesday and Thursday messenger deliveries are over. Spiritus loves it because he doesn’t have to lug pounds of mail and messages up here from down in Eden Valley below. Everybody (except coach) is happy.

My dear coachc,

Thank you very much for your kind words of advice. I am going to try one more time to communicate with you regarding my posts. However, before you read this personal message to you, I shall have to ask you to do just a little bit of homework and just a teensy bit of review. Think of this as a quick scan of your notes regarding “the other team” before a big game. Just as you prepare mentally for a game or a match, please do your best to refresh your recollections about our previous conversations and my background so that we may better understand each other. Please read my posts #1975 and #1999.

Assuming you have read these posts again, I can now address your latest message. Let us begin at the beginning, go the end, and then stop. On our path we will analyze, comment, understand and, perhaps, achieve moments of clarity. Our goal shall be to enter The Honesty Zone and to see if “the truth is somewhere to be found in Lake Forest, CA.” (#2237, Bengal Man). Let us deal with your post #2246, line by line and idea by idea. “Bostonman... why don't you take the time that you are wasting quoting posts from 2 months ago and use that time a little more productively by contacting CryoPort and getting the straight story? Maybe your falcon could fly over there and gather the information for you.”


“…why don't you take the time that you are wasting quoting posts from 2 months ago…?” Coach, I can’t help but think about your words and advice from the past. I have quoted you many times in my "worthless, longwinded dribble" messages. This is not a waste of my time. It only took a few seconds. No big deal. All I did was read a few sentences, check a calendar, match up a few dates and then decide that I have no understanding of what you are talking about in your posts.

“…use that time a little more productively by contacting CryoPort and getting the straight story?” Coach, I don’t think contacting CryoPort would do me a bit of good. First of all, remember why and how I got into this stock in the first place. It is one crazy story.

Remember that, at an earlier point in my life, I had elected to check into what is known as “an institution of mental and psychological restoration and reclamation”. This was located in Western Massachusetts. At “the institute”, there were many very very sad people. They used to sit by the windows, stare blankly outside at the peaceful surroundings, and cry. They would sometimes cry all day. They were part of a group of hopelessly ill people. We had people who were severely depressed, bipolar, suicidal, schizophrenic and……….cryogenic. These are the ones I just told you about who used to sit at a window and cry all day.

Having been around these people for a few years, I thought I knew something about cryogenic personalities. So, when a guy told me about a company called CryoPort, I thought I was investing in a company that worked with all of the cryogenics out there, through a web port. I thought modern technology could help these people via the internet.

With this kind of preparation and knowledge, how could I possibly ask the CryoPort people anything? What would they tell me? Are they going to tell me we are just about to announce a big contract with somebody or that major financing is just around the corner? Are they going to tell me we are just about out of the woods and that I should come down from the hills, where I live? Are they going to advise me to buy every share I can get my hands on now, because new financiers are probably shorting this stock in order to knock the price down so that they can get more shares, in the future, when they convert into equity? Are they going to tell me the company is “this close” (with thumb and index finger pressed together to demonstrate) to hitting it big time in the markets? Are they going to refer me to the FedEx portal that was set up well over a year ago? I doubt it. My guess is that they will tell me to carpe diem, hit the road and don’t come back no more until later in the year.

“Maybe your falcon could fly over there and gather the information for you.” Sweet of you to suggest this, but you have to understand that falcons are as good as their falconer, and that’s me. I cannot allow him to fly all that distance because he could then no longer hear me. This is not good. Things would fall apart, the center would not hold and all kinds of bad stuff would occur that you wouldn’t like coach. In point of fact, my falcon does give me information when he sees something noteworthy. I have tried my best to tell you about these things in my past messages but, somehow, you still seem unable to separate the "worthless, longwinded dribble" from the slam-dunk. (I’m doing my best to communicate with you coach. I like your style: The “dribble” pun was a good one!).

Now that we are back up in the hills, we are again spending considerable time talking to our neighbors (the very smart and honest investment bankers and money managers and financial planners) and peering down deep into the Valley below. The secrets are down there somewhere. I can feel it. I can see the nervous ruffle of my falcon’s feathers. I hear the sounds of his call. He is on to something but I just haven’t figured it out yet.

Tonight is campfire and Indian ice cream night up here. I am going to talk to all of my smart banker and investment manager friends up here and try to get “the scoop” (that one’s for you coach) on how they see things. A number of them have come by to welcome me back and a few have said they want to have a serious talk with me about something. I am sure it will be interesting and informative.

The last time I went to one of their parties (before leaving home to do my FAA work), there was a particular group of five guys who loved to talk and analyze stocks and who loved their drinks. One always had his Tom Collins. Two of them loved their Scottch and sota. Another guy referred to himself as “Jim Beamer”. (Don’t ask me. I have told all of you in the past that it gets Weirdin these hills at times). The part I remember best is that, after they finished their drinks and their investment discussions, they all grabbed a handful of Tootsie Rolls and went home.

I have to run now coach. It’s laundry and cutting nice pieces of fresh meat for my falcon’s Friday night dinner. Big night tonight for him: He seems to enjoy parties. Everybody up here makes quite a fuss about him. They carefully rub his head, feel his feathers and stare into his eyes. He takes it all well. As long as I am there with my big leather glove and an occasional chunk of rib-eye, he’s a happy guy.

Are you still here coach? I thought you were long-gone, gone gone like a great big fat home run ball. And here I thought of you as the model of discipline, realism and consistency. I listened to you in January when you told us to "head for the hills" and to get out of this stock. I followed your advice. I heeded your warnings. Even though I never went to college, I can still read what you wrote below on January 5, 2009.

"I asked a friend of mine from the banking world to take a look at this stock and let me know what he thinks. His advice was to get out as soon as I could. I think my time waiting for this company is down to about 4 weeks. If nothing of substance comes out by then I am getting out and you might want to also if you don't want 2009 to look like 2008.

Just some thoughts from your Coach!"

Well, let's do the math coach: January 5 + 4 weeks is roughly the first week of February. According to my calculations, today is Friday, March 13. This is roughly 6 weeks beyond your "due date" coach. What gives? Was your post, of January 5, "worthless, longwinded dribble"? I assumed you were long gone like an old tennis sock, an old golf glove or an old jock strap.

Are you telling me you're still in? Did I make a major mistake by selling everything in January? I think I shall now have to reconsider my investment thesis, my strategy and my overall thinking about CryoPort. Maybe it's time for a change. Maybe I should slowly begin to....to......

To All of My Dear (with a few exceptions) CryoPort Hubbies:

I am back now, up in the hills, where I belong. As a few of you (certainly not Mr. CryoPort) might remember, I informed you, in my last post (#2001), that
“After the crash of the airplane in the Hudson River last week, the FAA and the NTSB have decided to experiment with the use of natural predators for the purpose of keeping away those birds that get sucked into airplane engines near airports. In case you didn’t know it, the falcon is at the top of the food chain in the bird world. (Indeed, when birds see a falcon, they clear out and “head for the hills”). This makes my falcon one of the valuable “natural predators” that might be used near airports where there is a bird problem.

I have been contacted by McGuire AFB in New Jersey regarding the use of me and my falcon in this effort to scare away birds that are in the area. I may have to come down from Banker Hill, with my dear falcon, and advise the staff there on methods of preventing wayward birds from getting near the airport. This method may end up being used across the United States in any airport that has this problem.

I am on alert. My falcon is on alert. Indeed, I may not be tanned, but I am rested and ready to serve if they need me. I have put a brand new black leather hood over my falcon’s head and I have taken out my favorite leather gauntlet which I shall proudly wear on my arm for when he lands. I will keep you posted on our activities.”

I have not kept anybody informed of my activities because I have been too busy. I have been in New Jersey, Minnesota, Chicago, Gary (Indiana), Boston (of course), various airports in Florida and a few airports in Southern California with my falcon. The U.S. Government is very interested in my “technology” for keeping birds away from airports and, therefore, in preventing stray birds from being sucked into jet engines. Indeed, the Smithsonian Institute in Washington, D.C. has thousands of bird fragments and feathers that have been categorized and preserved for the purpose of understanding more about what birds fly near airports and what falcons can do to prevent these kinds of tragedies. This project has occupied my time for the past few months.

Just because I have not communicated with all of you, does not mean that I have not thought about you. Upon returning to Banker Hill, I opened up piles and piles of mail that my falcon lugged up here, in bits and pieces, after our return to the land of honest bankers, smart investment managers, responsible government regulators and the like. I have read this wealth of correspondence and am now ready to communicate again with all of you. I am home again, where I belong on Banker Hill.

My first response is to Mr. CryoPort. He has insulted me. In one of his posts, he talked about running far far away from CryoPort stock shares if the company does not come up with something substantive very soon. Note that he did not say to head for the hills. He explicitly stated that people should run far away if no significant announcements emanate from the company in the near future. “Far away” is not necessarily “for the hills”. I resent this and take it personally. Mr. CryoPort knows that I sold all of my shares months ago and that I headed “for the hills” as instructed by coachc and Mr. Walrus. I have to assume that Mr. CryoPort was mocking me and that he was being somewhat sarcastic and condescending.

Since I left Banker Hill about 7 weeks, or so, ago I see that we have some new contributors to the Hubby Board. There is a bodisatva, a Chudd 185, a Pick-Them-Ripe and a few others. Let me give these people my personal welcome and tell them that I hope they can change my mind and again convince me to own some CryoPort shares. As some of you may remember, I sold all of mine in early January.

Our friend baseball fan has said some very interesting things lately. I am watching him closely and reading his words very carefully. BengalMan continues to fascinate me with his very perceptive and very sophisticated observations.

And there is this man Stambaugh. Very interesting: I had no idea that CryoPort had changed CEOs. I wonder what this means. What curious revelation is at hand? What will the future reveal?

My falcon is adjusting again to his home. Soon he will be soaring and turning in the widening gyre and observing the Valley below. Right now he is quiet, a bit restless, somewhat tired and slightly disoriented. Falcons are territorial and somewhat protective of their masters (falconers like me). It will take a few days for him to adjust and to again give me signs of what might be in the offing. In the meanwhile, I shall continue reading all of my mail and I shall do my best to inform all of you about what “we” see from far above Eden Valley.

P.S. The RMS CryoPort is stuck in ice and major snow drifts. A very thin guy is being chased around the boat by what looks to be a very angry woman who is yelling, “Divorce! Divorce!” I see this with my binoculars as I peer down to the Valley below. Evidently there are some Particularly Offended (P.O.’d) people who own CryoPort shares. This is how it looks from up here on Banker Hill. I see other things but I don’t know what to make of them at this time. I shall report to all of you as I make sense of the myriad of happenings that seem to be developing below.

I am very disturbed about one element that is missing from my view. The Tom cat is gone. I don’t see him anymore. Where has he gone? He used to sit by the river, patiently waiting and quietly stalking his prey. He is now gone. Not a sign of him. I only hope the tiger that used to hang around these parts has not consumed him.

You won’t believe how much snow is down there by the river. Bigtime accumulation is taking place. Maybe we will have a delightful Spring with life emanating from the tortured soil that produced nothing last year. Maybe the drought is over? We’ll see.

Dear Mr. Fan,

Please see the last lines of my Post #1852, with reference to your last post.

My dear Mr. Walrus,

Thank you for asking. My dear falcon does have a name. I gave him this name when I was living at the institution devoted to mental and psychological restoration and reclamation.

His name is "Spiritus Mundi".

My dear Mr. Baseball Fan,

Thank you so much for thinking of me. (“PS to Sir Boston-send the falcon to the store and buy some CYRX shares this week. It would be a shame if you missed the party at Tootsies.”)

I don’t know if I can send my falcon to the store or anywhere far away right now. Let me tell you what has happened. After the crash of the airplane in the Hudson River last week, the FAA and the NTSB have decided to experiment with the use of natural predators for the purpose of keeping away those birds that get sucked into airplane engines near airports. In case you didn’t know it, the falcon is at the top of the food chain in the bird world. (Indeed, when birds see a falcon, they clear out and “head for the hills”). This makes my falcon one of the valuable “natural predators” that might be used near airports where there is a bird problem.

I have been contacted by McGuire AFB in New Jersey regarding the use of me and my falcon in this effort to scare away birds that are in the area. I may have to come down from Banker Hill, with my dear falcon, and advise the staff there on methods of preventing wayward birds from getting near the airport. This method may end up being used across the United States in any airport that has this problem. Who knows? I and my falcon may end up on your local television station as a type of predator in your area and near your home.

I am on alert. My falcon is on alert. Indeed, I may not be tanned, but I am rested and ready to serve if they need me. I have put a brand new black leather hood over my falcon’s head and I have taken out my favorite leather gauntlet which I shall proudly wear on my arm for when he lands. I will keep you posted on our activities.

As for buying CryoPort stock, I don’t know. I have gotten some of the bankers up here interested in it. I told you last week that I showed it to a bunch of the money managers here on Banker Hill and they laughed me out of the campfire and wouldn’t let me join the Indian ice cream tasting that night. I felt foolish. (Little did they know what my original motivation was for buying the stock in the first place. Read my post to my dear friend, coachc, wherein I told him how I heard about CYRX. Crazy, crazy, crazy.)

Well, a few of the very smart guys have done some research and are starting to actually follow the stock and the company. Their interest sort of piques mine and makes me wonder whether or not I made a big mistake by selling all of my stock early last month. I appreciate your invitation and I know that you sincerely want me to do well with the stock.

I don’t know. I am torn between the new advice of a few of these really smart and honest money managers up here and the very wise words of coachc and Mr. Walrus. They advised me to head for the hills and this is what I have done. Now I am somewhat confused. Couple this with the strange events of last week and the possibility of my having to leave Banker Hill for a while and I am really thrown. I’ll have to sleep on it and see what I can see down in the valley below. My falcon is soaring to new heights “as we speak” right now and I want to discuss with him what he senses, what he sees and how he interprets the activities below in the valley by the river.

I will say this. It is still raining quietly and constructively. The drought could end, the soil could again become alive and the river could possibly begin to again flow southward. One of the really smart guys who has become slightly interested in CryoPort made a very strange remark to me last night. It was quite noisy and I had trouble hearing him, but he said something about cucumberland and the river below. What this river has to do with cucumbers and vegetables is beyond me. I am new here and don’t know all of the details about the valley below. He has lived up here for years.

We were talking and he brought up the subject of CryoPort again. I answered his question and then he said something really weirdin the strangest way. It sounded like, “See you” (lots of noise and clanging of dishes… I couldn’t hear clearly) “Cumberland.” Cucumberland? What the heck does that mean? I didn’t bother asking him. All I know is that, after he said it, he picked up a handful of Tootsie Rolls from a candy dish and walked away.

Whatever it meant, I’ll worry about it later. My falcon will discover whatever is important when the time comes.

My dear Mr. Coachc:
I have been informed by next door neighbor from “Wells” and also by another neighbor from “Bear” that you have responded (#1993) to my post (#1990), which I addressed to you. There is obviously a huge misunderstanding here. Please let me explain.

I never went to college. I graduated a high school in Newton, MA and went to work as a free-lance writer. I started out working for various companies which imported consumer electronics products that were manufactured in Japan and China. I wrote the instructions for setting up the product and for easily and exactly understanding how to use it and trouble-shoot it, should there be a problem. This is where I developed my clarity, my ability to make helpful drawings (with circled capital letters that highlight the name and function of each of the product’s parts) and my economy with words. College was never in my picture. (That was a pun, coach.)

So when you say, “ I am not sure who you think you are impressing with your long winded over the top posts but be assured it is not me…I am glad you took your college education and your 5,000 page thesaurus and put them to good use by writing your posts about falcons and talons.”, I think you now see how wrong you are. I accept your apology. Oh, and one other correction. My posts are not over top, they are from the top. They emanate from a falcon’s eye view of the valley below and from high in the hills, where it is safe, conservative, sensible, honest and (pardon the pun here, coach) above all, well-intended.

After doing free-lance for a few years, I started having difficulties with life. To make a long story short, I checked into what is known as “an institution of mental and psychological restoration and reclamation”. This was located in Western Massachusetts. It is near North Hampton, the Berkshires and places like that. (We’ll discuss North Hampton some day, but not here.) It was here that I met my falcon. I used to sit alone, in a lovely meadow, and eat my lunch and contemplate life and my future. A large bird began visiting me in this meadow and I started feeding it little bits of my lunch each day. Over time we became very devoted to each other, I became a master falconer and the rest is history.

I am sure you are wondering how all of this relates to CryoPort and my former, irresponsible and senseless ownership of its stock. The answer is very simple and illustrates how strange life is.

At “the institute”, (or “the toot”, as we sometimes called it) there were many very very sad people. They used to sit by the windows, stare blankly outside at the peaceful surroundings, and cry. They would sometimes cry all day. They were part of a group of hopelessly ill people who are probably still there today. We had people who were severely depressed, bipolar, schizophrenic, hallucinogenic and……….cryogenic. These are the ones I just told you about.

Having been around these people for a few years, I thought I knew something about cryogenic personalities. So, when a guy told me about a company called Cryo Port, I thought I was investing in a company that worked with the crogenics out there, through a web port. I thought modern technology could help these people via the internet. Little did I know about what I really invested in. I must be crazy.

By now I am sure you get my point about how stupid I was to invest in CryoPort. I put all this money into it, researched and read about what I had really invested in, followed it for close to three years, had zero to show for it. Then I read your posts about your banker, heading for the hills, etc… The rest is history.

I hope this clears up any misunderstandings between us.

My next door neighbor, one of the Wells-Fargo guys, just returned from a Berry picking run and informed me that you have answered my post from yesterday night. He is letting me use his computer, up here in the hills where I live.

Coachc, I am getting worried about you. You seem to have trouble grasping facts and remembering your own posts. I think we need to take this slowly and gradually and construct the truth, one small step at a time. Let us begin and explore this together, like gentlepeople. The purpose of this little exercise will be to attach talons to your brain, in the same way that my dear falcon has talons on his feet. My falcon’s talons hold him in place when he sits on my falconer’s gauntlet and visits and dines with me, the falconer. Your brain talons are to help you grasp facts and hold yourself together while events unfold before your crystal clear, uncluttered eyes.

Step one in our process will be to go to the Ihub Board (aka the “Hubby Board”). Put in CYRX and this will take you to the forum for this stock. (This is simply the usual procedure that you have been following for the past number of months. There is nothing new here. Stay with me on this.) Now go back to January 5, 2009, and find your name on the list of posters. Your name is spelled c-o-a-c-h-c. Are we together here, thus far? When you read your post, in your words that you posted on your computer for submission to this fine board of intelligent people (for the most part) you will read the following: “I asked a friend of mine from the banking world to take a look at this stock and let me know what he thinks. His advice was to get out as soon as I could. I think my time waiting for this company is down to about 4 weeks. If nothing of substance comes out by then I am getting out and you might want to also if you don't want 2009 to look like 2008.

Just some thoughts from your Coach!”

Step 2 in our process will be to read this and read it carefully. I think you might have a word-reading problem because you seem to have trouble understanding my posts. Soon after your post, a walrus floated up to the surface and told us that his banker friend said to head for the hills and stay away from a company such as CryoPort. I simply took the advice from both of you in early January, stuck with my convictions, faded away into the sunset and moved up here to Banker Hill. Is there anything about any of this that you are having trouble with, thus far?

Step 3 in our process will be for you to re-read my post (#1975), addressed to you, last night. If you look at it carefully, you will note that it is talking to coachc, and this is you. Stay with me here. We’re almost finished with this discovery process.

Step 4 is to digest the contents of my post, re-read your post again from January 5, re-examine all of your admonishments to shareholders and fellow posters here, regarding seeing CryoPort through rose-colored glasses, and then finally to reach a conclusion about your views on this company, on this board and on the contributors to this board.

Step 5 is to examine your post (#1977) of today. Now let us go through it, one step at a time. My ears are fine and have never been filled with the sound of music up here on Banker Hill. These are Mr. CryoPort’s words regarding music up here in the hills. He uses them when he wishes me well in my new home. If you re-read my posts of this week you will maybe note that my ears, save for the thunder storm, have been filled with silence. Contemplative, eerie, mysterious, stone-cold silence has been the theme of my communications to all of you this week. Silence is the opposite of sound and music is not communicated through silence. Therefore, the sound of music does not ring in my ears. Are we still together on all of this? Think of it as a four-play sequence in a football game. It all hangs together. Trust me on this one. Remain calm and patient and this will all make perfect sense to you in the end. I know you can do it.

As for you referral to me as one who is obviously wearing rose-colored glasses, again you are incorrect. I have been wearing binoculars this week as I study the very strange activity, down by the river side, in the valley below. I have stated this more than once in my posts of this week. Rose-colored glasses would have distracted me from seeing the truth and would have caused my vision to fade in the darkness of the valley below.

As for my banker friends, they are honest folk, as you say. They are trustees. They are bankers and investment counselors. Some of them are famous money managers and well-known investment bankers. How could they not be honest? They are fiduciaries.

Now we are going to get a little bit complicated. I am going to put your words, from above, down here, so that you can read them again and re-understand what you wrote on January 5, 2009. The object of this is to apply your words, quoted above, down here so that you don’t have to scroll up and lose your concentration in the process. Ready? Here we go: “I asked a friend of mine from the banking world to take a look at this stock and let me know what he thinks.” This statement implies to me that you trust your banker friend in the same way that I trust all of mine up here on Banker Hill. You are not wearing rose-colored glasses. I am not wearing rose-colored glasses. Neither of us are wearing rose-colored glasses. Both of us are not wearing rose-colored glasses. We are acting as a team, together. I am using binoculars, all by myself, alone, to understand the silence in the valley below. Are we good here? Are we still together on all of this? I hope so.

Now to return to your post of today. This is the final step in our process of understanding what you write and what you think. Yes, I have sold all of my stock. Yes, I have moved to Banker Hill. No, I don’t post more than anyone else on the board. Only this week have I put up some extensive posts because of what my falcon and I have been sensing and seeing in the valley below. I thought I owed my fellow posters, on this board, a description of what has happened to my dear falcon this week.. I have also spent valuable time answering people like you, baseball fan and others who have tried to fathom, along with me, what seems to be unfathomable. (The word “fathom” means” to understand, to penetrate the depth or meaning of”).

Finally, you ask why I do this if I have sold all of my stock in early January? The answer is in the wind.

My dear deer coachc: "Make up the wildest stories about their life and the hills that they live in"? Who, exactly, are you talking about? I hope you are not indirectly referring to me. My posts are as reliable as the zone of truth, as factual as the day is long, as real as the temperature in a CryoPort container.
I am reporting cold facts as I know them. I am not seeing the world through rose-colored glasses, as you accused me of, a number of months ago. Since when are you interested in "some speculation and WAG's" that "was at least interesting and related to CYRX"? You were the first person out there to accuse all of us (when I owned CYRX stock) of dreaming, of pursuing childish things, of speaking in WAG's without facts and backup data. Now you are asking for these WAG's and this idle, rose-colored dribble and speculation? I do not understand you coachc.

My posts, of late, have obviously passed you by. They have faded right before your eyes and have floated into the world of oblivion to you. My advice? Read very carefully what my falcon has been doing and seeing this week. Study my last post with all of the intellectual ability that you possess and carpe diem. The truth is there before you and you are unable to see it. The falcon knows all and your bird-brain (with all due respect) cannot grasp the meaning of, and in, his observations. Seek and ye shall find, take up and read, carpe diem .....know when to punt.........It is all there before you.

Your post is so alarming and so inconsistent with your past utterances that one of my neighbors (a very smart, con-servative and trustworthy money manager from Boylston Street in my city), woke me up in alarm to read me your words. He is aghast, I am aghast, he is amazed, I am amazed. Both of us don't know what to do with your latest comments.

The last time you posted you wanted two contracts. Well, all of you CYRX shareholders have no contracts, to date. You wanted facts to substantiate an investment in CYRX? Well, there are no facts and this is why I sold all of my stock and moved up to Banker Hill, where I am surrounded by smart, honest, prudent, conservative investment bankers and money managers. I believe you were one of the people who advised shareholders, like I used to be, to "head for the hills" at the mere suggestion of CYRX stock ownership.

So, where are we here? Are you in the hills or in the valley?

Are you a shill for the honest, experienced, prudent, responsible and trustworthy money managers who live up here with me? Are you some sort of WAP (wild-assed phoney) who is playing with well-intentioned (but wrong) shareholders of CYRX stock? Establish your position, coachc, and enter the zone of truth.

In the words of the poet, John Keats, "Beauty is truth, truth beauty,—that is all Ye know on earth, and all ye need to know."

Today is Thursday. Fortunately, my dear falcon seems to be Fine again and I am able to receive my usual package of messages from associates down in the valley below. As most of you know, Tuesdays and Thursdays are my days for outside-world communications, unless I use somebody’s laptop up here on Banker Hill, where the smart, prudent, honest, sensible and conservative investment bankers live.

I have a number of topics to cover today, many of which I just do not understand. Suffice it to say, things are weirdin these parts. It is now fifty-nine days of stony, dark, silent drought that has engulfed the Eden valley below. The Prairie has been transformed into a cruel wasteland of crusty, ravaged, tortured soil whose silence speaks of curious transformations which will soon belong to the future. It has become eerily quiet, with only limited activity along the river bank. The only consistent elements to this quiet stillness are the smooth, laminar flow of the river, itself, and the contemplative presence of the Tom cat.

I note that there are two Hubbies who have addressed me this week. First, I shall answer Baseball Fan and his post #1958. “Is all of this the precursor to the Second Coming?” ANSWER: I don’t know. I do believe some revelation is at hand, but I cannot understand what it is. My falcon is well and flying high, but he is acting very mysteriously after this week’s seizure and fall from dizzying heights. He has changed his behavior in certain ways. He sometimes flies where he can no longer hear me, the falconer. This is something new that never occurred before. Quietly, in a certain zone that is located well above the clouds, he rides the air currents in what looks like a peaceful contemplation of what he sees below. It is as if this zone has become his special place, his own private pool of calm from which he can look for meaning and ideas in a sea of change. What does this portend? I wish I knew.
“…it would help me if you would get to the point a little sooner.” There is no point. There is only the process, the flow of events which are out of our control. There is only the falcon, soaring above in his special zone of honesty and clarity, who will tell us what we need to know when that truth emerges. Remember what I said above, my dear Baseball Fan: Things are weirdin the valley below. I see strange shadows. I see this strange creature that has emerged from the freezing cold waters of the river. I see a shape with the head of a man, the tusks of a walrus and the body of a tiger. I see a small but noble ship, with the letters “RMS CryoPort” engraved upon its bow. And again, there is the Tom cat: That patient, quiet, interminable hunter who emerges from the weeds, on occasion, only to return again to his own private zone with a stare as blank as the sun.

Next I shall answer my dear Mr. CryoPort who always has something intelligent to say. Post #1965: “BMAN, I'm starting my ascent to the hills…” Answer: If you are serious about this, then you must do what I did a few months ago: Sell your stock, fade out of the picture, come up to Banker Hill and change your irresponsible ways. Decide that you want to learn from the honest, prudent, trustworthy investment bankers who live here. Come with an open mind. Decide to Fargo any thoughts of junkets to places like Las Vegas or to superficial spas and other such luxury establishments. It will be a Wynn-Wynn situation for you.

If you decide to come here, I will warn you in advance that these people are somewhat strange. To me, their sense of humor is odd and their recreational activities take some getting used to. Let me give you an example. A Wells Fargo bank executive told me a joke yesterday: Two guys are getting acquainted. One asks the other, “Where are you from?” “I’m from Alobama,” the second guy says. “Where’s that?” asks the first guy. “Everywhere. Right now it’s everywhere.” answers the second guy. “Ask me in 6 months where it is and I might tell you it’s between somewhere or in the middle of nowhere.” That was the joke. Do you see what I mean?

As for recreational activities, they sit around at night by a quiet campfire or go to each others’ houses and visit. Lately, ice cream from India, of all places, has become the big attraction. They tell me it is shipped from India in large aluminum containers that are filled with liquid Nitrogen. The Nitrogen keeps the product at a perfect temperature for well over a week. This allows them to buy these exotic flavors of ice cream that we cannot buy here in the U.S.A. (Another example of a joke one of the guys told last night: Question: “Do you know long this ice cream will last in the patented aluminum shipping container, filled with liquid Nitrogen? Answer: Yup. It will last until the Cubs win the World Series.” Again, see what I mean?)

They each bring in a different flavor and they have these elaborate taste comparisons. Flavors include Sagemen (sort of herby), Ben and Berry’s, Bengal Berry (don’t ask me), Amla (Indian Gooseberry), Chironji, (a type of nut used in making desserts, which fits some of the guys in the group, in my opinion), and a vast selection of other flavors that, for some reason, come from the Berry family of fruits. For whatever reason, they love their Indian ice cream, chocked full of fruits and nuts. Go figure. And this fascination with berries does not end with ice cream, by the way. I am told that, in the springtime, they go out as a group and pick on Berry bushes that grow in the surrounding hills. Anything with a Berry attached gets picked on. It’s their way of passing the time and enjoying the outdoors. Don’t ask me.

I could tell you more, help you find a place up here and introduce you to the group of honest, prudent, responsible, trustworthy and Wells-meaning bankers who live up here. Let me know when you are finished fading out of your stock and we will talk.

For all of you who are concerned about the health of my falcon, I thank you. I am pleased to report that he is getting better. It seems that his careful gliding down to earth did him some good. The dizziness, the sudden soaring to unusual heights, the apparent bird’s eye view of what may be formulating in the heavens above, affected him in a manner that I have not seen before. Perhaps my falcon is reacting to the Tom cat and the realization that this strange, patient creature, crouching in the weeds while moving its slow thighs, is no tiger.

As of now, however, my dear falcon’s feathers are getting back to their smooth, unruffled state and his ability to support himself, at this stage of his recovery, is encouraging. I feed him quietly and I slowly rub his feathers. He is not yet consuming great volumes of food, but he is slowly recovering. I am hoping that, by Thursday, he will be flying again and that my regular Thursday message deliveries and transmissions will be able to resume. Right now I have borrowed a laptop from one of the very intelligent, well-informed, conservative, prudent and honest money managers who lives nearby, up here on Banker Hill.

While my dear bird recovers, I nave been spending more time carefully scanning strange movements that have begun, down by the river, in the valley below. What I see troubles my sight. What are these objects that have seemingly emerged from nowhere to join the Tom cat at the river’s edge? Whose shadows do I see? What is this creature that has emerged from the freezing cold waters of the river below? I see a shape with the head of a man, the tusks of a walrus and the body of a tiger. I see a small but noble ship, with the letters “RMS CryoPort” engraved upon its bow. “What does this mean?”, I ask myself.

It has become dark. A massive grey cloud has planted itself in the sun’s path and I can no longer see the activity below. The vast scene by the river has faded from my view. It is quiet, eerily quiet and the mountain trees are standing still, like petrified stones. Suddenly a violent peal of thunder fills the sky and the whole earth begins to shake. A blinding flash of lightening has just streaked across the dark sky and has illuminated the shining ribbon of the river below. My eye catches a short glimpse of the cat, the Tom cat, patiently sitting in the weeds, oblivious to the sea of the surrounding confusion.

Now the quiet has crept in again, drowning out the distant howls of the coyotes located somewhere in the valley below. I hear rain, the sound of a soft, gentle rain. Again I say, “Surely some revelation is at hand.” Surely there are cold, hard facts, swirling in the atmosphere above, whose existence has not yet reached our senses. Can it be that my falcon has encountered these formulations? Is this why he was seized by a force, still unknown and still unannounced?

Fifty-six days of stony, dark, silent drought have engulfed the valley below. The Eden has turned to dust, the Prairie to a cruel wasteland of crusty, ravaged soil. All hope has seemingly faded from this rich earth, save for the patient drizzle whose falling presence is again turning eyes to the sky above.

What does all of this mean? Whose scerecy is at work here? What do these mysterious forces portend and what will emerge from these strange events? Why is there this confusion?

Is all of this the precursor to the Second Coming?

My Dear Mr. HS(soon to be another Tiger)trader:

"...something must be in the air? Maybe the long awaited ........... finally?"

Maybe you can help me? Please read my latest post and feel free to contibute. Perhaps a Ray of light will emanate from your pen?

To All Cryoport Shareholders:

As most of you know, I have moved to Banker Hill. I moved here because I was told to "head for the hills" for even thinking of an investment in a wildly speculative stock, such as CryoPort. My neighbors in Banker Hill are mostly conservative, sensible and honest investment gurus who consider CryoPort to be much too speculative, risky and irresponsible. I think most of you also know that my communications with the world below have been limited, for the past few months, with messages flown in to me by my falcon, with me as the falconer. Tuesdays and Thursdays are my regular delivery days and, this being Tuesday, I received a delivery. However, something serious has occurred this time around and I don't know what it is.

I am very sorry to announce that my falcon has become very very sick in the past few days. I am not sure what has happened, so I asked one of the intelligent, honest, conservative, prudent and honorable bankers what his analysis is. He looked at my sick bird and thought that it might have had some kind of heart attack or seizure or some sort. He leaned over my messenger, examined his beak and feathers, got up from the ground and muttered something like, “Goddam. I haven’t seen anything like this since the time I gave that Enron speech at the Citibank-Merrill-Bear energy analysts’ convention, back a few years ago. Guys were passing out at the prospects for the company. There was nowhere to go but up. Guys just Lay there, doing nothing, speechless, almost brainless and disconnected. But that was Enron. Wonder what’s going on here? This is weird. Tell me again what happened.”

So I told him what I saw. My dear falcon suddenly started flying upwards. Up, up and away with great speed and strength. He turned and turned and went up so high that he could no longer hear me, the falconer. And then, suddenly, he looked sick and bewildered, as though dizzy from the height. He faltered in his flight and came down slowly and landed at my feet. “Something was going on that I couldn’t understand”, I said. “Some revelation is at hand. I don’t know what it is. I need a healthy falcon so I can stay connected to the world from my perch on Banker Hill.”

I looked down over the Prairie below. For the first time, I realized that the animal down by the river, crouching in the weeds while moving its slow thighs, was no tiger. It was a cat. A big, smart Tom cat patiently waiting for the revelation of news, of cold facts about something. I could feel it. I could feel the Second Coming. “But about what?”, I said to myself. What is it that my falcon senses? What is it that the Tom cat knows is coming? What deep secrets shall emerge from these strange events?

My Dear Mr. CryoPort,
One of the conservative, sensible, level-headed, prudent and honest bankers, up here in the hills, let me use his internet today and I came across this post from you. I asked him to read it. His comments are printed below.

"Interesting article about Quest. When I was at B.S. (Bear Stearns), before it collapsed, I used to follow the health-care industry and its derivative industries. Quest is certainly one of the most important. As for this other company, CryoPort, never heard of it. I did some research and could find very little on it. No press releases or any information for the past 55 days. Pin action in CYRX stock? You gotta' be kidding. (Big belly laugh) Pin heads in CYRX stock is a much more apt description. (At this point a few guys wearing Drexel-Burham and Solomon Bros. sweatshirts starting cracking up, also.) That's a laugh. If someone told me to invest in a company like pin-headed CryoPort, I would get away from the guy AND HEAD FOR THE HILLS. (At this point I an saying to myself, "Imagine if they knew my story. This is embarassing. I'm feeling stupid.") You don't need that kind of advice from anybody. Who is this guy who wrote the post? Do you know him? Does he know anything about the company? Is the company named after him? He says his name is CryoPort. Have you looked at the chart?"

Now it got real interesting. He pulled the chart of your stock up on his screen. You have to imagine the scene: Guys from "Bear", "Solly" and "DB" are gathered around the screen. You should have heard the ooohs, aaahs and grunts. "Check this out. Lower highs and lower lows for the past 6 months. No volume of any kind. No liquidity. You couldn't get out of this coyote if you had to." At which point, I piped up and told them my story and how I was able to get out alive. I gave them a little background on me, especially the part about my heading for the hills when some very conservative, sensible, level-headed, prudent and honest bankers told a few of the posters on this board to do so a few months ago.

Anyway, to continue... "Check out the 50 day, This is unbelieveable. Look at how the 50 is locked into the 100. There is no support on this puppy" (Baby coyote? I wasn't sure.) "until you get to the low 40's. Jesus. Can you imagine owning this thing? The poor guys out there hanging on with no support, no news, no revenue, no press releases from the company on the state of affairs with possible customers....Nothing. Zero. Nada. Zilch. Kloom." (Kloom? What's that?) "Let me outta' here. Head for the hills." They were having a grand ol' time, "like singin' at the Opry", on your post.

I went back to my little house in Eden Prairie and then I started thinking to myself. "Wait a minute here.....Opry? Did I hear Opry, as in "The Grand Ol'" in Nashville? That's where Tootsies is located. Hmmm..... This is getting real interesting......."

And then a Ray of sunshine shot through the treetops, moving above with the hstrade winds, and I could hear the distant sound of a pack of coyotes, howling in the background. I looked out over the Valley below and saw again my quiet, mysterious oldtimer friend, the tiger, quietly waiting in the weeds by the river, flowing South..........

In do know of Dr. Kevorkian. I understand he is very competent, very knowledgeable, quite an expert on what he does.

Indeed, one professor at the Mayo Clinic told me that Kevorkian knows his stuff cold!

" Thanks for the restoration, perhaps, BB will have a poem for us later."
Today is Thursday which means falcon-delivery day for me. Tuesdays and Thursdays are my regular days for greeting, unloading and feeding my falcon up here on Banker Hill.

My Dear Mr. Cryoport,
I assume BB means me, with a poem from me? You probably mean to say BM, with no offense on my part!

I don't have a poem but I sure have a question. Frankly, I am more confused than ever before about this stock. You have stated twice today that all roads lead to Memphis. You were very emphatic about this. What happened to Nashville? Why the change? When I used to own this stock (before selling and heading for the hills where all of the intelligent, well-informed,seasoned and sensible banker reside) it was Nashville that ruled. "All roads lead to Nashville" was the cry. Now it's Memphis? I think you are very confused and that you should carefully reconsider your investment in CryoPort. I say this as a friend who is interested in your well-being.

As most of you know, I have moved to Banker Hill. I moved here because I was told to "head for the hills" for even thinking of an investment in a wildly speculative stock, such as CryoPort. My neighbors in Banker Hill are mostly conservative, sensible and honest investment bankers from Lehman Brothers, CitiBank, Solomon Brothers (aka "Solly"), Merrill Lynch (key word, "Lynch"), WaMu and other conservative, sensible, honest and responsible investment gurus who consider CryoPort to be much too speculative, risky and irresponsible.

My falcon, with me as the falconer, flew in today and brought me news of various kinds. Some of the news arrived in a garbled form. It is obvious to me that, up here in the hills, some of my basic data is coming in as scrambled as EGGO.

I show us up 4 cents on 27,000 on Monday. This is impossible. This cannot be true. We never go up. We only go down, slowly slowly on no volume, no interest and, of course, no news. I firmly believe that the company does not want us to move upwards, because this will destroy their way of doing business and of treating shareholders. Therefore, the information that I have received from my falcon has to be wrong. Chalk it up to the "lost in translation factor" from living in the hills.

If this upward trend should continue, then we just might approach the 50 day moving average of the sum of the daily temperatures in Minnesota, Sarasota and Los Angeles divided by the daily volume of WFWL. I think you both know what this means. This is huge. BengalMan could have a heart attack if this were to occur.

Maybe last night was a pre-cursor to these strange events. At about 1AM, I heard the most frightening howl of a pack of coyotes. I looked out of a window, in my mountain cabin, and saw either 7 or 8 large, furry coyotes going crazy over something. It was a kill of some sort. The sounds were amazing. They could have been inside my cabin, given the noise. Maybe this is the sign that we have been waiting for? Were these coyotes sent here to signal a contract with Quest?

In the words of William Butler Yeats:

"Surely some revelation is at hand;
Surely the Second Coming is at hand."

Correction to my last post.

I mistakenly omitted a very important component to the second mixture. The original post mistakenly read as follows:

"The second blend is more tight and beefy, with focused blueberry and wild berry flavors that are spicy and complex. Full-bodied, with a hint of stewed plum and wild berry peaking through on the finish of the cigarette."

I meant to say "The second blend is more tight and beefy, with very quietly focused blueberry, wild berry and Peter Berry flavors that are very very quiet and complex. Full-bodied, with a hint of stewed plum and wild Peter Berry peaking through on the finish of the experience."

Through Mr.Cryoport, I have been told that BengalMan has asked me a question. Thanks to Mr. Cryoprt,I don't have to wait for my weekly delivery of messages and information that arrives via my falcon, with me being the falconer.

I smoke two (2) special belnds of leaves, grasses and berries that enlighten the soul, clarify the mind and purify the heart. The first blend I would describe as possessing an aroma that is rich and hefty, with the smoke's flavors suppressed by the density of its texture. It lifts with air, allowing the aromas of freshly cut wheat and spiced apples to bring out more definition in the taste and feel of the inhale. The components feel balanced, the smoke's taste structure elegantly firm rather than massive.

The second blend is more tight and beefy, with focused blueberry and wild berry flavors that are spicy and complex. Full-bodied, with a hint of stewed plum and wild berry peaking through on the finish of the cigarette.

The important thing about these blends is that they are delivered here, via FedEx, packed in dry ice. When the package arrives, I use special gloves to handle it and it always needs special care. It's a real pain in the ass. The containers boxes are foam and always come in broken up due to rough handling in shipment. I don't like it but I have no choice. The cold air up here preserves the mixture until I roll it in leaves and enjoy it up here.

What is interesting is that some of the bankers, investment managers, financial advisors and trustees up here are beginning to appreciate the aroma and the taste of this mixture. They want me to get some of it for them. They won't order it themselves because they don't want to get involved with special gloves to handle it and with the special care involved in dealing with broken containers made of foam that could possibly expolode form handling the dry ice.

As most of you know, I am in the hills because my investment advisor and banker told me to head here, rather than to invest in CryoPort. On Fridays, I receive a small bundle of messages via trained falcons who still obey me, the falconer.
I received a printout of HS' message.

I can hear it now: "You are basing your investment in CryoPort, your confidence in Peter Berry and CryoPort on the musings of an un-employed shipping employee who never heard of CryoPort and who never even saw the CryoPort container? You are telling me that a "no-brainer" conclusion is one that comes from someone who has never seen a dry vapor shipper and who has never heard of the patented concept? Well, I've got a money manager for you: Earnie Bernie. I've got an investment banker for you: Merrill Lynch (key word being "Lynch"). I've got a bank for you: CitiBank. I've got three car companies for you. ............."

The weather up here is a bit cloudy now. Hard to get a beam on what is coming soon. We definitely need rain. The drought up here is frightening and the fire danger is Red Flag real. All kinds of people try to forecast weather up here in the hills. It is a type of pastime that all of these smart, wealthy, conservative, honest,sensible investment managers indulge in. I think it appeals to their ability to try and predict the future. But..........what do I know?......I could be wrong..........

Since my last post to all of you, I met a new guy here. He's sort of old but a nice guy. Wears a "Drexel Burnham" sweatshirt. Never heard of the outfit. I thought Drexel Burnham was a fashion designer. Not so. He told me his story. Interesting stuff. Never heard of anything like it before.

I told him about my past investment in CryoPort, in the days when I lived down in the valley below. (For those of you who are new to this board,I am referring to the time before I sold it all and headed for the hills, where there is safety, honesty, good sense, prudence and judgement.) He never heard of CryoPort and said he couldn't find a news release on the company. He looked for information but all the old press releases had expired. Whatever..............

I told him what I knew. He thought the concept was very interesting. When I toild him of the advantages and the superiority of the CryoPort Express Shipper over dry ice, he said to me , "This is a no-brainer. The big companies will grab this and use it for their international shipments. Do you know the size of this industry? Do you know the potential out there for this product? Dry ice is shipped in foam boxes that come apart. Dry ice is dangerous. It can explode. Dry ice ice only lasts for a few days. Why did you sell your stock and move up here? Are you cracie, man?"

To which I replied, "I dunno'." I then went back to my cabin, picked up my binoculars and peered out over the valley below and started re-thinking the whole thing over and over. I carefully scanned the valley below and, lo and behold, I spotted a lone tiger, laying low in the weeds adjacent to the river that slowly meanders South, through the Appalachians to Tennessee. I watched the tiger, but then clouds moved in and he faded out of sight. Interesting.........I wonder what it all means......

"My goal the last few weeks was to get the board to be emotional, to let management know you guys/gals exist."

Thanks for including gals.

"I don't know how many shares everyone else on this board has, but my investment is huge. I could start selling tomorrow, but it would take weeks to liquidate all my shares and by the time I was done the price would be down to .12/share. Right now the percentage play for me is to hang on. I've been slowing increasing my shares to counter-act dilution, but after Peter Berry's sale of 50,000+ shares in December to cover his AMT, I'm done buying any more."

Now, where have I heard this before? Somehow, this sounds all too familiar.

Oh, my dear Mr. Walrus, please don't get your tusks in an uproar!

Dear Mr. Fan,

"If I took a wag, it would be 1000-2000." Is a wag anything like a fade? You and BengalMan have to get together and define your terms for us hill-billies. Please remember that I am up here in the hills with all of the conservative, safe, sensible and honest investors who have headed here, in order to avoid scams like CryoPort. I have lunch on a daily basis with all of the advisors who invested with "Bernie the Earnie". Indeed, I see people with sweatshirts....................never mind, I have already covered this in a previous post.

Anyway, please define a wag and next time you talk to BengalMan, ask him what a fade is. Somehow, I tend to think that a wag and a fade has something to do with homosexuals but...........................I could be wrong.

I shall reply here to the vast multitude of posts that have been delivered to me, up in the hills, via carrier pidgeon:
(1) From Mr. Cryoport: "BMAN, I know you're in the hills, are they alive with the sound of music?" No. I only hear the distant stomp of a herd of angry shareholders who have had it with excuses, delays, misleading press releases and the like. As I have told all of you before, the hills are filled with Citibankers, invesment bankers, invesment counselors and other such Wall St. professionals. People up here wear sweatshirts wth names like "Lehmann Brothers", "Bear Stearns", "IndyMac", "WaMu" and others. There is one really really old guy with a sweatshirt that says "Solomon Brothers" on it. They huddle together at night, around the campfire, sing a few aongs but keep their distance from the fire so as not to get Bernied.
(2) From HStrader: "Anybody want to buy a Sea Ray?" Anyone ever get bitten by a Sting Ray?
(3) From BengalMan: "You guys were a fade when you were bullish, and you're a bigger fade now that you're bearish." What's a fade? Are you telling us that we are only a shadow of what we were before?
(4) From Bostonman: "Let's just hope that Cryoport's fate doesn't stopshort before Spring training." Didn't you mean shortstop at Spring training?
(5) From jobado: "Me thinks some people need to take a reading comprehension class..." Speaking for myself, me no have reading comprehension when me see no thing to read. Me no know no thing knew about this company. Me see only lower stock price, lower sentiment, lower confidence, lower lows. Me no have any idea what me see threw any glasses, rosie or clear.

"My final prediction is that we will know Cryoports fate before pitchers and catchers report to spring training!"

Let's just hope that Cryoport's fate doesn't stopshort before Spring training.