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[Copypasta]I couldn’t tell you what half of the companies in my portfolio do
I couldn’t tell you what half of the companies in my portfolio do or even what the ticker stands for...but you better believe I’m jacked to the mf’ing tits in every single meme stonk that you crayon eaters have been pumping. CHOO CHOO MF’ER.
I couldn’t tell you what half of the companies in my portfolio do or even what the ticker stands for...but you better believe I’m jacked to the mf’ing tits in every single meme stonk that you crayon eaters have been pumping. CHOO CHOO MF’ER.
The year is 2946, Robot Mitch McConnel and Cyborg Nancy Pelosi report stimulus talks going well.
The Dow rewards them and hits 6.02 x 1023.
Christmas for a wsb trader
As the tree blinks from white to red to green, you look at the void under the tree that previously held presents. Fewer this year than usual, but some.
How did you get here? Boredom? In March, you felt trapped with your wife and infant. You needed something to pass the time. Something you could throw yourself into fully.
“Are you coming to bed?” your wife yells down the stairs. It seemed harmless at first, but as the pandemic drew on, so did your investment. You’ll stop soon, though. “Soon!” you reply, and you hear her feet climb the steps.
The lights start to blink chaotically. You cringe because you could only afford the junk strands at CVS. Suddenly they halt—the alternation feature broken—on red. The red fills the room and covers your flesh. You look down at your hands, and they look like they’re bleeding. Like your calls.
After a time—hours?—you realize you’re sitting in complete darkness. Your lights have expired, worthless.
As the tree blinks from white to red to green, you look at the void under the tree that previously held presents. Fewer this year than usual, but some.
How did you get here? Boredom? In March, you felt trapped with your wife and infant. You needed something to pass the time. Something you could throw yourself into fully.
“Are you coming to bed?” your wife yells down the stairs. It seemed harmless at first, but as the pandemic drew on, so did your investment. You’ll stop soon, though. “Soon!” you reply, and you hear her feet climb the steps.
The lights start to blink chaotically. You cringe because you could only afford the junk strands at CVS. Suddenly they halt—the alternation feature broken—on red. The red fills the room and covers your flesh. You look down at your hands, and they look like they’re bleeding. Like your calls.
After a time—hours?—you realize you’re sitting in complete darkness. Your lights have expired, worthless.
Anyone basing trades on technical analysis right now is a fucking tool
So many arrogant fucks here love talking technical analysis when they can't even do basic fraction arithmetic much less understand Ito Calculus. Fucking clowns, all of them.
Shut the fuck up and do your trades. If you really need a number you can't even derive to tell you whether you should buy a stock or not you deserve losing all and hanging yourself.
Newsflash, the stock market never made sense nor will it. Best you can do is trade shit you know about and feel still hasn't been spotted by the bandwagon of smooth brains on subreddits like this one or r/stocks . Or alternatively manipulate the market like the rich investors you look up to do. Warren Buffet's dad was a politician, if you think that shit didn't help that fat fuck then not only are you retarded but also delusional.
Now stfu about volatility and RSI. If you actually knew what the fuck was going to happen you'd be chilling in Hawaii with a fat titty chick not on Reddit posting "technical analysis".
So many arrogant fucks here love talking technical analysis when they can't even do basic fraction arithmetic much less understand Ito Calculus. Fucking clowns, all of them.
Shut the fuck up and do your trades. If you really need a number you can't even derive to tell you whether you should buy a stock or not you deserve losing all and hanging yourself.
Newsflash, the stock market never made sense nor will it. Best you can do is trade shit you know about and feel still hasn't been spotted by the bandwagon of smooth brains on subreddits like this one or r/stocks . Or alternatively manipulate the market like the rich investors you look up to do. Warren Buffet's dad was a politician, if you think that shit didn't help that fat fuck then not only are you retarded but also delusional.
Now stfu about volatility and RSI. If you actually knew what the fuck was going to happen you'd be chilling in Hawaii with a fat titty chick not on Reddit posting "technical analysis".
Bear King Burry vs TSLA
Bear King Michael Burry in the ring, slappin TSLA with a metal chair. His glass eye open wide with rage as he batters TSLA relentlessly.
"The valuation..." crunch "makes...." crunch "NO.... " crunch "SENSE!" he roars with maniacal autistic glee.
TSLA struggles for the edge of the ring, but coughs blood as each hit lands, and eventually stops moving. Bear King Burry drops the chair.
Bear King Burry turns to the crowd
"Was this your champion!? Was TSLA supposed to be your chosen one!?"
A child in the crowd turns his face into his mother's side and cries.
On the side of the ring WSB can barely move. TSLA was supposed to tag them in, but couldn't make it to the side in time.
"Get up TSLA" WSB whimpers hopelessly, a single tear rolling down their cheek. "Get up..."
Bear King Burry turns to WSB
"Now it is your portfolio's turn. Get in here you little bitch."
"Excuse me." Someone replies from behind BKB. "I believe I can give you the fight you want."
A robed figure is administering smelling salts to TSLA. The figure puts TSLA on its shoulder and carries TSLA gently out of the ring.
"And just who the fuck do you think you are?" BKB rumbles ominously.
BKB's fingers squeeze so tightly on the chair that metal bends.
"Who am I?" the robed figure inquires.
The robed figure stands straight and stretches to their full height. They must be at least 7' tall.
The crowd stops crying and watches in stunned silence.
"Who am I?" The figure repeats menacingly.
The figure turns around to face BKB, ripping off his robe. A gleaming light fills the stadium. Before us stands a Golden deity, rippling with muscle. If there is an ounce of body fat it is currently in hiding, only to make way for seemingly endless coiled golden musculature.
The figure looks directly into Bear King Burry's eyes.
"I'm Goldman Sachs, and i'm here to kill you."
Bear King Michael Burry in the ring, slappin TSLA with a metal chair. His glass eye open wide with rage as he batters TSLA relentlessly.
"The valuation..." crunch "makes...." crunch "NO.... " crunch "SENSE!" he roars with maniacal autistic glee.
TSLA struggles for the edge of the ring, but coughs blood as each hit lands, and eventually stops moving. Bear King Burry drops the chair.
Bear King Burry turns to the crowd
"Was this your champion!? Was TSLA supposed to be your chosen one!?"
A child in the crowd turns his face into his mother's side and cries.
On the side of the ring WSB can barely move. TSLA was supposed to tag them in, but couldn't make it to the side in time.
"Get up TSLA" WSB whimpers hopelessly, a single tear rolling down their cheek. "Get up..."
Bear King Burry turns to WSB
"Now it is your portfolio's turn. Get in here you little bitch."
"Excuse me." Someone replies from behind BKB. "I believe I can give you the fight you want."
A robed figure is administering smelling salts to TSLA. The figure puts TSLA on its shoulder and carries TSLA gently out of the ring.
"And just who the fuck do you think you are?" BKB rumbles ominously.
BKB's fingers squeeze so tightly on the chair that metal bends.
"Who am I?" the robed figure inquires.
The robed figure stands straight and stretches to their full height. They must be at least 7' tall.
The crowd stops crying and watches in stunned silence.
"Who am I?" The figure repeats menacingly.
The figure turns around to face BKB, ripping off his robe. A gleaming light fills the stadium. Before us stands a Golden deity, rippling with muscle. If there is an ounce of body fat it is currently in hiding, only to make way for seemingly endless coiled golden musculature.
The figure looks directly into Bear King Burry's eyes.
"I'm Goldman Sachs, and i'm here to kill you."
Stimulus hopes in the year is 2025
The year is 2025. House speaker Nancy pelosi's brain jar has agreed with Mitch McConnell's new human skinbody to vote on the $12 covid stimulus package. This is the 37th revision to the package initially introduced in late 2020. One dollar will be split between all americans, two between all illegal immigrants, and the rest to Jeff bezos. Due to stimulus hopes, SPY has rallied to 600.
The year is 2025. House speaker Nancy pelosi's brain jar has agreed with Mitch McConnell's new human skinbody to vote on the $12 covid stimulus package. This is the 37th revision to the package initially introduced in late 2020. One dollar will be split between all americans, two between all illegal immigrants, and the rest to Jeff bezos. Due to stimulus hopes, SPY has rallied to 600.