[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
What happened to this ad? :(
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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

bears are fuk

I hate people saying bears are fuk or bulls are fuk. Stop saying that. It's very rude. Just say bears are fuk
December 2020

WallStreetBets

Mitch is the type of dude who...

Mitch McConnell shaves his face with the same razor he shaves his nuts and butt hole Mitch the type of guy to put on sunglasses to get another free sample at Costco Mitch the type of guy that says "you too" when the waitress tells him to enjoy his meal. Mitch the kinda guy to leave “smile more” on the tip section of a receipt Mitch is the type of dude who says "Ni Hao" to the waiter at a Thai restaurant Mitch the type of guy to shower then shit Mitch McConnell claps when the plane lands Mitch is the type of dude who thinks crest toothpaste is spicy Mitch the kind of guy that uses self checkout with a full cart.
December 2020

WallStreetBets

Bears after a green day

It’s 4:01pm. Bears solemnly log out of their devastated brokerage account, get up from their makeshift desk made up of a stack of empty Michelina’s frozen lasagna dinners, head up the stairs of their father’s basement, grab the keys to their tan ‘97 Chevy Cavalier and a cloth mask embroidered with the word “VOTE,” and drive down the street to the local gay bar for a holiday themed burlesque show.
December 2021

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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