Unprecedented Depravity in a Life Insurance Company

A Disgrace to the Canadian Actuarial Profession

“How Camest Thou in this Pickle, Trinculo?”



CLICO Zombie Buffoonery

First, a Few Sober Thoughts

As for Canadian actuaries, to put it in its most generous terms, their response has been marked by mistakes or outright lies. Mistakes are forgivable, even their astonishingly amateurish incompetence. In the early days, everything we knew came from GORTT, and while we now know that GORTT lies about everything, we knew less then. So, with imperfect information, mistakes are inevitable and hence forgivable. Nobody’s perfect.

Likewise, reversals aren’t necessarily bad. You make a decision based on what you know. Later you know more, and you change. That’s not just forgivable, it’s laudable: You’re supposed to change your mind when you realize that you were wrong. But doubling and tripling down, aiding and abetting are unforgivable. Those are a betrayal of trust, and especially serious because trust is the life insurance industry’s greater asset.

The record here has been terrible, and we need investigation to get to the bottom of how Canadian actuaries have mismanaged this brazen fraud. There’s no chance that they will do so.

Ok, here’s a few laughs to make it bearable.

CLICO Zombie in the Hot Tub with the Grifter Bloodsuckers

 The bad hombre grifters in the hot tub are all in it together, they party like it’s 1999, back-stabbers awash in EFPA money, enjoying “unusual profit” like manna from the sky, glad-handing CIA elites for white-washing the fraud and branding me a liar, scratching each other’s backs, bleeding the living parts of the CLICO corpse. Will an hombre notice black clouds on the horizon? Who will be left holding the bag?

Scratching backs, CLICO Executive Chairman Claire Gomez-Miller, wrote me on April 10, 2018: “All resident EFPA policy liabilities have always and continue to form part of the Statutory Fund. It is incorrect to suggest there has been any change in the treatment of Statutory Fund requirements [Err, CLICO financials: “statutory fund assets as of Dec 31, 2009 are meant to support LTIB except EFPA”] your policy remains [entrapped] classified as a Resident EFPA Policy, and therefore is part of the Statutory Fund [lucky me] … CLICO Board has every confidence in the professional competence of its Management, external auditors and consultant actuaries. We reject any of your criticisms of their professional judgment and unequivocally stand by the Financial Statements of CLICO as presented.”

 Claire, may I call you Claire? In its glory days since the MOU, CLICO was a Ponzi scheme on steroids but it ran off the rails and has hit a wall, “unusual profits” have dried up as it has run out of EFPA to defraud, and the 2020 profit amounts to a .5% return on “surplus” despite investment income on huge “surplus” assets and surely a spread on entrapped EFPA, sign things are getting worse,  losses in non-EFPA, perhaps systemic anti-selection that triggered reserve strengthening a few years back, as anyone with half a brain who can get insurance elsewhere wouldn’t pay premiums to that nuthouse, and all but the very worst will get the hell out when those bombs Ngai planted start exploding.

Despite my begging, Ngai Mini-Me Simone Brathwaite masterfully certified the 2020 financials with in-your-face lies and climbed into the hot tub to celebrate the zombie’s birthday that they’ve been bleeding for 12 years, but it’s looking anemic and diseased, smelling like a sick ox, a sulking 12-year old dressed in a Batman costume making bubbles in the hot tub, knowing this “going concern” isn’t going anywhere, and it’s never going to be a teenager as with the Sagicor deal the dreaded Liquidator will pull the plug in the hot tub and drive a stake through its black heart.

Clare, for the sake of the zombie, you need to pump it up, it’s down a few pints, sing softly into its rotting ear: “Is there anybody in there? Just nod if you can hear me. Is there anyone home? Come on now. I hear you’re feeling down. Well, I can ease your pain. Get you on your feet again. Can you show me where it hurts? You are only coming through in waves. Your lips move but I can’t hear what you’re saying. Okay (okay, okay, okay). Just a little pinprick. There’ll be no more ah. But you may feel a little sick. Can you stand up? I do believe it’s working, good. That’ll keep you going through the show. Come on it’s time to go.”

 That little pinprick got the zombie to stand up in the hot tub but it’s looking like it’s going to fall over. You must pump fresh blood into it. You’ve got Mini-Me cooking books in the kitchen, “We [KPMG] are independent with ethical requirements relevant in Trinidad and Tobago,” the cold heart of the Iceman Imbert, the IMF in the pocket of Dr. “Air Jackboots” and the torture chamber in the basement just needs blood hosed off the wall.

Now, I know all too well (ouch) that you don’t separate a grifter hombre from their jackboots, but you’ll forgive me for assuming you don’t wear them in the hot tub, so as you climb out for fresh blood to rescue the zombie, remember that you’re lucky to be in there in the first place, as you haven’t paid your dues.  Yes, you met the first condition, you sold your soul but your jackboots don’t YET have blood on them, so if they’re out there, step around the bloody frozen ones, tiny ones of Howai the shoe guy, and the “Air Jackboots,” then buckle up and spring into action.

And the timing is perfect as you must comply with the International Standard on Auditing 720: “There has been a change in emphasis towards more qualitative disclosures with the aim of achieving better communication… description of the business model… to better inform understanding of the more complex areas in the financial statements.

So you need to describe CLICO zombie reanimation going-concern torture chamber “business model,” an unprecedented vile variant of a Ponzi Scheme on steroids.   

Inquiring minds need “better information” on proprietary “complex areas.”  

  •  How did that financial genius Dooks pick 20 years, not say 25 for the 0% IOU?
  • Rambo was “heavily” but not 100% “based in law,” so where did that genius draw the line, 51%?
  • Howai, the small Shoe Guy said he stepped into policyholder shoes, but those shoes were too big for him, and he looked like an idiot. What size are his feet?
  • Iceman Imbert in 2016 said CLICO owes Government $22 billion but that’s a lie, it’s only 30% of that, and of course, fully secured. So why not take it up a notch to really rattle taxpayers, $32 billion?

Claire, you’ve got to bring back the glory days of defrauding EFPA that the old-timers led by the Ho Sing gangster can’t stop reveling about in the hot tub, and boy has they got some stories turning their backs on, and treating like garbage, people begging and crying for their money; look at all the money the old-timers made from the people’s looted money and the cars they drove. But this is your moment, don’t let it slip away. Those old-timers paved the way for you, got the actuaries and KPMG in the hot tub as they were pulling off the Big Steal and the Shady Pretty Big Steal; you’ve been gifted the Grifter Going Concern Steal.

Claire, grab that zombie gently by the ears, careful you don’t rip them off, and look deep into its (preferred pronoun) eyes, “Remember when you were young, you shone like the sun… now there’s a look in your eyes, like black holes in the sky… you were caught on the crossfire of childhood and stardom… you reached for the secret too soon, you cried for the moon… shine on you crazy… zombie.”

Yes, it shone, cried for the moon, and reached US $500 million “secret” surplus too soon, so screw the Sagicor deal, the zombie needs all the blood it can get and the non-EFPA are sitting ducks: herd them down the basement, crank out a new set of “those values,” or just use the 5% of old ones, and draft up a non-existent “Non-EFPA Investment Contract” for them to sign; if they don’t know what’s good for them, show them around the torture chamber, point out the faint blood marks the EFPA left on the walls and the ceiling that won’t wash off, and then in a grand fashion, “Voilà,” unveil  “The Stretcher.”

It’s no accident that with a little “stretching,” those “assenting” EFPA are taller and thinner than is normal. If that doesn’t scare the hell out of non-EFPA, a demonstration will. Hook up Mini-Me, crank it up, and before they know it, she’ll be screaming “I lied, no methods or assumptions are needed!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

After the non-EFPA blood bath, CIA elites wash the blood from Mini-Me’s hands, but not jackboots, and you’ll all climb back into the hot tub as bona fide grifter hombre, leading in a birthday song, “Long Live the Zombie.”

But why stop there? Defraud the hell out of those Government “preference shares” down to zero. “That’ll keep it going through the show.”

EFPA loss mounts with each passing day. Will a grifter come clean, wash the blood from his jackboots? One coming clean tips the grifter dominos into a Mexican Standoff, putting all the bad hombre in a pickle to reflexively grab and hold actuaries and each other at gunpoint, sweating bullets in the hot tub wearing jackboots with razor blades sticking out of the toes, and no strategy exists for anyone to achieve victory.

Please leave a comment with impressions and suggestions. I can be reached at geneD@avenueDconsulting.ca

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