Scam Dogs and Mo-Mo Mamas: Inside the Wild and Woolly World of Internet Stock Trading (Hardcover)

by John R. Emshwiller (Author)

Editorial Reviews

Amazon.com Review
Would you take a stock tip from a guy named Tokyo Joe? How about one from Big Dog? If so, you should read this book. If not, you will probably find Scam Dogs and Mo-Mo Mamas an entertaining curiosity about the type of person you're glad you're not. Tokyo Joe and Big Dog are two of the main characters in Scam Dogs. They post messages on Internet stock discussion boards, touting stocks most of us have never heard of. When these guys say "Buy," thousands of people do. The problem for those thousands is the gurus may have done all their own buying before recommending a stock to others and start selling as soon as their followers start buying. At least that's what the Securities and Exchange Commission accused Tokyo Joe of doing when it filed a civil complaint against him in January 2000. (This practice, according to the helpful glossary at the back of the book, is called scalping.) Emshwiller is a reporter for The Wall Street Journal who has covered numerous frauds and swindles--in fact the book started as a Journal article about the colorful Tokyo Joe (How colorful? He usually trades naked in his Manhattan apartment, sitting in the lotus position while staring at multiple computer screens.) Scam Dogs will be most useful to those contemplating a career in day trading. However, when you see how many ways there are to get fleeced, you may decide it's a more remunerative not to become a sheep. --Lou Schuler

From Publishers Weekly
This rogues' gallery of Internet stock investors, scam artists and tipsters sheds fascinating light on an unseemly universe powered by caffeine, nicotine and the sweet scent of profits. Emshwiller, who covers Internet trading for the Wall Street Journal, trails a cast of often bizarre characters, such as Joe Park, the legendary trading guru who launched the popular stock-discussion site Tokyo Joe's Caf?, who submits to an interview sitting lotus-like in front of his computer screens while steadily ingesting Marlboros and orange juice. Then there's Park's arch-enemy, Big Dog, who is actually 41-year-old, 400-pound Mike Nichols, a former textile-coatings salesman turned rabid Internet junkie. And don't forget Cairo-born Anthony Elgindy, the one-time Chevy dealer who finds a new life and a tidy profit as a visionary corporate scam-buster, who conveniently short-sells the stocks he helps take down, profiting from their falling share price. They're all chasing after "mo-mo mamas," those momentum-generating stocks that shoot up suddenly and make spectacular money for savvy traders. Emshwiller's reportorial instincts make for an engaging narrative, but his lengthy quotations of inane e-mail chatter ("the stock is so cheap!") edge out more essential discussion of the rising power of stock discussions on the Internet. For all their interest, these scam dogs end up snarled in endless e-mail squabbles, revealing a petty and not particularly edifying counterculture. Agent, Geri Thoma, Elaine Markson Literary Agency. 15-city radio tour. (May)
Copyright 2000 Reed Business Information, Inc.

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Product Details

• Hardcover: 295 pages
• Publisher: HarperBusiness; 1st edition (May 16, 2000)
• Language: English
• ISBN-10: 0060196203
• ISBN-13: 978-0060196202
• Product Dimensions: 9.6 x 6.5 x 1.1 inches
• Shipping Weight: 1.2 pounds
• Average Customer Review: 3.8 out of 5 stars See all reviews (10 customer reviews)
• Amazon.com Sales Rank: #472,020 in Books (See Bestsellers in Books)

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Customer Reviews

Most Helpful Customer Reviews

15 of 16 people found the following review helpful:

5.0 out of 5 stars Stock Hypers, Shorts, Investigators and Shady Dealings!, September 3, 2000

By	Professor Donald Mitchell "Jesus Makes Me a P... (Boston) - See all my reviews (TOP 10 REVIEWER)

John Emshwiller is an investigative reporter for The Wall Street Journal who specializes in writing about fraud. In this book, he focuses on some of the most famous characters who are known on the Internet bulletin boards of the Web site, Silicon Investor. These include Tokyo Joe (hyper), Big Dog (hyper), Anthony@Pacific (short), GA Bard (hyper), Janice Shell (amateur investigator), Jeffrey S. Mitchell (amateur investigator and no relation to me that I know of), SI Jill (bulletin board cop), and Pluvia (short). If you have always wanted to know more about these people because you read their postings, this book will tell you details that will intrigue you. As you can imagine, few people are what they seem on the Internet. Almost everyone in this account has something to hide, but as their fame grows access to the dirty details does too. As the book was being finished, the SEC filed suit against Tokyo Joe in what will probably be just the beginning of many such suits to stop scalping and failing to disclose payments from companies to hype stocks.

These individuals started as people who wanted to have some fun, run a few stocks to make some money, and gain a little fame. The rapid growth of Internet investing has turned them into influential commentators who can make enormous sums offering their services and investing. This is their story, as shared with and uncovered by Mr. Emshwiller.

If you already follow some of these people, you already know what a Scam Dog and a Mo-Mo Mama are. Since this is a book about Internet bulletin boards, I will assume that you may not know. The definition of a Scam Dog in the book is "a stock that combines the qualities of a 'scam' and a 'dog,' being at worst a fraud and at best overvalued and headed for a fall." You will meet a lot of them in this book. A Mo-Mo Mama is "a stock that is quickly rising due to excitement among traders, sometimes triggered by news, Internet chatter, disinformation, and sometimes by the need to be excited about something."

There is always a four-way battle going on with these investor bulletin boards. The hypers are trying to get people to buy (usually after buying themselves), the shorts are trying to get people to sell (usually after selling themselves), the amateur investigators are trying to debunk one side or the other, and the company is trying to either hype itself or correct misimpressions. One of the strengths of this book is that it contains a lot of e-mails that were posted. These are crude (in many senses of that word) signs of the battle. These Internet celebrities get death threats, hate mail, and insults by the ton. Why do they start doing it? "For one thing, the Internet offers anybody who wants it -- be he burrito maker, bard, or boob -- a shot at something at least as addictive as making money: the chance to be somebody in the eyes of somebody else." That seems to be the bottom line of this ego-driven book. People apparently cheat in describing themselves, their investment results, and how they behave relative to investors. The combined temptations of money and fame easily overcome them. In many cases, these are people who would not stand up to too much scrutiny in public, as this book reveals.

"Be very careful!" over the Internet is the simple lesson of this book. The person you are dealing with is likely to be out to pick your pocket.

If you enjoy long strings of insults, you'll find lots of funny reading here. If you don't, then skip those sections and go on with the story.

Then after you read this entertaining guide to what not to do, ask yourself where else you need to be careful on the Internet.

Good luck!

10 of 13 people found the following review helpful:

5.0 out of 5 stars A Likely Classic, May 31, 2000

By A Customer

I wasn't sure what to expect on picking up a book with the title "Scam Dogs and Mo-Mo Mamas," maybe me-too Tom Wolfe or a study of dancing soccer Moms. What I encountered on reading is a work I suspect will become classic study of a turning point in investment history and regulation.

Imagine, if you will, a bright-eyed diarist among the tulip traders of 17th century Holland, a long-lived Samuel Pepys privy to the shenanigans of the South Sea Bubble, or a wit among the Wall Street brokerages as mining stocks soared and crashed in the 1890's. That's the role Emshwiller fills here with the story of some of the most influential (and colorful) characters to the new Internet trading world.

Scam Dogs isn't an all-encompassing or definitive tale of the boom market of the 1990's--that has yet to be written. It isn't about billions sloshing in the Ciscos, Intels, and Microsofts or the fortunes flushed down to cockamamy dot.coms. It's brilliant marginalia, a richly-described world of trade in stocks that are often meaningless at best or fraudulent at worst by figures far beyond the core of Wall Street. These are "marginal men" (and women) who first grabbed and understood the trading implications of the Internet precisely because they lacked the levers that established investment dealers possessed. These were the elves dancing at the leading edge, and, unlike a Salomon or Goldman Sachs swinging weight in a T-bill auction, these tiny folk can individually or in concert can kite or tank only the most rinky-dink of stocks. Such is often the unseemly stuff of revolutions. It is a revolution that government was and still is slow to grasp, as Emshwiller portrays with rich annecdote and history at the SEC. That slow grasp has meaning for us all.

Emshwiller, a writer for the staid Wall Street Journal, seems to have a natural wit and an eye for stories that often doesn't make it beyond a newsroom water cooler. He's unafraid to include himself in the tale, to admit that after a night of drinking with a trader he "wouldn't want to drive the bar stool I was sitting on," and that he was endlessly tempted by the possibility of making money from Internet trading, the very same greed and gull that drove what he was writing about.

There's wonderful material here that lies on the cutting room of too many first-rate financial journalists. Here is not just the first, easily-grasped annecdote, nor the second. But the third and fourth more subtle tale of TokyoMex in full throes of an emotional speech in which he tells fans and fellow traders "don't be schmucks," or of 400-pound fat man "Big Dog" complaining that though he is worth millions on paper at the moment, "I have no structure in my life," or of the protection-minded short-seller's guard dog who "is either having a very tense morning or appears ready to pounce," or of an ltalian Renaissance scholar and prolific poster bragging of "perfect Eric," her cleaning man from Sri Lanka that "I do have to hide my pantyhose after they're washed or he'll iron them, but that's his only fault." Such is daily life in this revolution.

This is wit and insight of a rare sort. To lodge a complaint or so of Scam Dogs: its extracts of sometimes-funny-but-inane emails are occasionally overly protracted; I'd like to have seen earlier some exploration of regulatory disinterest or neglect of Internet touting and trading (Emshwiller does it with great anecdotal familiarity mid-book and then thematically at the end.) And I'd happily have opted for a slightly more elaborate setting of the rocketing market for real-life Intels and Microsofts with real-life balance sheets making possible the fanciful dreams of undiscovered riches from companies most of us--thank heavens--have never heard of. But setting these complaints aside, I found Scam Dogs a brilliant read, a penetrating analysis, and a likely classic look at the era.

Peter Quintle, New York

2 of 2 people found the following review helpful:

5.0 out of 5 stars Wild Ride, June 25, 2000

By A Customer

This is eye-popping stuff. If you read this alongside "The Trillionaire Next Door" you're guaranteed some big bellylaughs - the daytrading experience has never been wilder.