π¦ π π¦ π π¦ π π¦ π π¦ π π¦ π
NOT. FUCKING. SELLING.
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NOT PRESSING βSELLβ ON 1. FUCKING. SHARE.
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IβLL GO TO $0.00 BEFORE BILLIONAIRES GET ONE MORE PENNY FROM US.
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CANβT STOP. WONβT STOP. GAMESTOP.
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TOMORROW, I THINK IβLL BE HOLDING THE LINE. MAYBE MAKE SOME TENDIES, TOO.
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IβLL SEE EVERY ONE OF YOU BEAUTIFUL APES ON PLUTO SOON, AND ITβS GOING TO JUST BE A SEA OF SPARKLING DIAMOND.
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I LOVE YOU, ALL, AND IβM NOT SELLING, AND IβM NOT FUCKING LEAVING. NOT ONE. FUCKING. SHARE!!!
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WSB Buy $COCK
Buy $COCK. I heard WSB is buying $COCK and $COCK IS THE NEXT BIG THING.
$COCK IS RISING TODAY.
Do your own DD on $COCK and let me know how much you like $COCK.
πβ your πππ $COCK to the π
Buy $COCK. I heard WSB is buying $COCK and $COCK IS THE NEXT BIG THING.
$COCK IS RISING TODAY.
Do your own DD on $COCK and let me know how much you like $COCK.
πβ your πππ $COCK to the π
Oh my gourd, I am financially ruined (agricultural futures)
I have lost everything, and I'm not sure how to continue. This summer I invested $17,500 (six months salary and my entire life savings) into ornamental gourd futures, hoping to capitalize on this lucrative emerging industry. After watching a video about Vincent Kosuga and his monopoly on onions, I decided I'd try to do something similar with another vegetable. I did some research and found out many agricultural forecasters expected this year's gourd yield would be far smaller than the past, due to deteriorating soil conditions in central Mexico and a warmer-than-average spring. At first, demand soared around Halloween and prices skyrocketed, but the gourd bubble burst on November 12th. Unfortunately, the coronavirus caused a massive drop-off in demand due to fewer families decorating their tables for thanksgiving, and prices plummeted. I had invested early enough that I thought I would still be fine, but then on the morning of December 2nd, a new email in my inbox caused my stomach to turn into a pretzel. The massive gourd shipment from Argentina, scheduled for early March, had arrived. I was planning on selling off my futures right before this, in February, but this ruined everything. To top it off, the gourds in this shipment were absolutely gargantuan, some topping 4 pounds each, causing the price-per-pound to drop like an anchor into the range of 6 cents per pound. I am ruined.
I have lost everything, and I'm not sure how to continue. This summer I invested $17,500 (six months salary and my entire life savings) into ornamental gourd futures, hoping to capitalize on this lucrative emerging industry. After watching a video about Vincent Kosuga and his monopoly on onions, I decided I'd try to do something similar with another vegetable. I did some research and found out many agricultural forecasters expected this year's gourd yield would be far smaller than the past, due to deteriorating soil conditions in central Mexico and a warmer-than-average spring. At first, demand soared around Halloween and prices skyrocketed, but the gourd bubble burst on November 12th. Unfortunately, the coronavirus caused a massive drop-off in demand due to fewer families decorating their tables for thanksgiving, and prices plummeted. I had invested early enough that I thought I would still be fine, but then on the morning of December 2nd, a new email in my inbox caused my stomach to turn into a pretzel. The massive gourd shipment from Argentina, scheduled for early March, had arrived. I was planning on selling off my futures right before this, in February, but this ruined everything. To top it off, the gourds in this shipment were absolutely gargantuan, some topping 4 pounds each, causing the price-per-pound to drop like an anchor into the range of 6 cents per pound. I am ruined.
Bears after a green day
Itβs 4:01pm. Bears solemnly log out of their devastated brokerage account, get up from their makeshift desk made up of a stack of empty Michelinaβs frozen lasagna dinners, head up the stairs of their fatherβs basement, grab the keys to their tan β97 Chevy Cavalier and a cloth mask embroidered with the word βVOTE,β and drive down the street to the local gay bar for a holiday themed burlesque show.
Itβs 4:01pm. Bears solemnly log out of their devastated brokerage account, get up from their makeshift desk made up of a stack of empty Michelinaβs frozen lasagna dinners, head up the stairs of their fatherβs basement, grab the keys to their tan β97 Chevy Cavalier and a cloth mask embroidered with the word βVOTE,β and drive down the street to the local gay bar for a holiday themed burlesque show.