[Copypasta] Daily WSB trader routine

1. Wake up 2. Check memfolio, buy more PLTR calls 3. Shit while looking at charts, don’t wipe 4. Fomo and buy the top 5. Watch stock Plummet 6. Sell, watch stock go up 7. Go to WSB and downvote everything 8. Jerk off, nut, realize how empty you are 9. Stare at futures for 3 hours 10. Sleep & repeat
December 2020

WallStreetBets

https://www.reddit.com/r/wallstreetbets/comments/k57d6a/daily_discussion_thread_for_december_02_2020/ged4t0q
(▀̿Ĺ̯├┬┴┬┴ Psst... kid, you wanna disable adblock?
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Team Bull vs Team Bear

Team Bull Jerome "We print it digitally" Powell Elon "TSLA stonk too low imo" Musk Nancy "Stimulus talks going well" Pelosi Donny "Stop the count" Mango Janet "Unlimited QE bitch" Yellen Lisa "Su Bae" Su Ryan "Make Gamestop great again" Cohen ------------------------------------------------------------------------ VS ------------------------------------------------------------------------ Team Bear Jeff "No stock split to keep the poors out" Bezos Mitch "Stimulus talks not going well" Mcconnell Steven "Discontinue the PPP" Mnuchin Andrew "PlTr PrIcE tArGeT $10" Left Tim "Don't call me by my slave name" Apple Michael "I'm publicly shorting TSLA" Burry Warren "I fought in the Civil War" Buffet Which team will win? Team Bull or Team Bear? Load up on weeklies for a ticket to the pay per view hell in the cell match. ------------------------------------------------------------------------ Special Guests: That one JPM analyst with TSLA 90p 12/18 Life savings SPCE calls guy Jim "FUCK ROBINHOOD" Cramer
December 2020

WallStreetBets

What the fuck did you just fucking say about OTM FDs

What the fuck did you just fucking say about OTM FDs, you little bitch? I'll have you know I graduated bottom of my class in the Special Needs Division of the Navy Seals, and I've been bag holding from pump n' dumps on WSB since 2012, AND I have over 300 confirmed margin calls. I am trained in the 'tism and I'm the top retard in the entire United States armed forces. You are nothing to me but just another normie retail investor. I will wipe out my portfolio with precision the likes of which has never been seen before on this Earth, mark my fucking words. You think you can get away with saying that shit about OTM FDs over the Internet? Think again, fuckface. As we speak I am contacting my wife's network of boyfriends across the USA and your IP is being traced right now so you better prepare for the storm, maggot. The storm that wipes out the pathetic little thing you call your portfolio. Your fucking 401k is dead, kid. I can trade anywhere, anytime, and I can lose fat stacks over seven hundred ways, and that's just with TSLA FDs. Not only am I extensively trained in sniffing glue, but I have access to the entire crayon collection of the United States Marine Corps and I will use it to its full extent to wipe your miserable ass boomer stocks off the face of the continent, you little shit. If only you could have known what unholy retribution your little "clever" comment was about to bring down upon you, maybe you would have held your fucking tongue. But you couldn't, you didn't, and now you're paying the price, you goddamn idiot. I will shit crayon diarrhea all over you, the likes of which would make even Jackson Pollock jealous, and you will drown in it. You're fucking done, kiddo.
September 2021

WallStreetBets

Navy Seal

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."
December 2020

WallStreetBets

Apple announces an EV program

Oh boy I can't wait until 2024 when I can wake up to my Apple Homepod Siri alarm and check my Apple Watch for notifications and take a shower in my Apple Big Douche then put my makeup on before work in my Apple Mirror then take my Apple Car to my job at Apple Phone Plant #584 so I can work on my Mac Pro workstation designing the latest Apple Product the iShit smart toilet that syncs with your iAsshole to sense when you have a massive log brewing in my large intestine and sends me a notification to my apple colonoscopy bag. Russian hackers will know what I had for dinner.
December 2020

WallStreetBets

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.
December 2020

WallStreetBets

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