GME should keep their retail stores but make it more of an experience like Hooters. Workers should be hot big tiddy goth girls or whatever other fetish gamers have. Bonuses if they have active social media (Instagram, Tik Tok, Only Fans, etc.) and extra bonus if they also stream on Twitch. 100% guaranteed increase traffic and sales in stores (simp farms). Literally cannot go tits up.
GME should keep their retail stores but make it more of an experience like Hooters. Workers should be hot big tiddy goth girls or whatever other fetish gamers have. Bonuses if they have active social media (Instagram, Tik Tok, Only Fans, etc.) and extra bonus if they also stream on Twitch. 100% guaranteed increase traffic and sales in stores (simp farms). Literally cannot go tits up.
Am I the asshole for dropping my 6 year old son at an orphanage for his inability to trade options?
This started about 4 years ago when my son was 2 years old. I started to supplement his picture books and cartoons with beginner options books and Martin Shkerli's live videos on how to pick pharmaceutical stocks. Over the course of these years I feel like he has retained absolutely nothing even though I have spent every waking minute trying to make him understand. I have done almost everything that I have thought of including having Jerome Powell's speeches play while he is sleeping and only having Warren Buffet on the TV to try and make him understand the market. I felt as though I got to a breaking point when he couldn't differentiate between a straddle and a strangle even though we we went through different strategies for almost a month straight. I finally convinced my wife that we were doing the right thing when I said that he will soon be a Wendy's worker begging his wife's husband for a weekly allowance because he will never amount to be anything. I couldn't fathom raising a kid who was not able to able to make a profit from trading options by the time he was 10. With all that said if anyone wants a 6 year old child who is shitty at market strategy check out Eternal Sunny Orphanage in Omaha, Nebraska and maybe your luck will be better than mine with him.
This started about 4 years ago when my son was 2 years old. I started to supplement his picture books and cartoons with beginner options books and Martin Shkerli's live videos on how to pick pharmaceutical stocks. Over the course of these years I feel like he has retained absolutely nothing even though I have spent every waking minute trying to make him understand. I have done almost everything that I have thought of including having Jerome Powell's speeches play while he is sleeping and only having Warren Buffet on the TV to try and make him understand the market. I felt as though I got to a breaking point when he couldn't differentiate between a straddle and a strangle even though we we went through different strategies for almost a month straight. I finally convinced my wife that we were doing the right thing when I said that he will soon be a Wendy's worker begging his wife's husband for a weekly allowance because he will never amount to be anything. I couldn't fathom raising a kid who was not able to able to make a profit from trading options by the time he was 10. With all that said if anyone wants a 6 year old child who is shitty at market strategy check out Eternal Sunny Orphanage in Omaha, Nebraska and maybe your luck will be better than mine with him.
Stonks only go up. But you don't.
You watch her as she brushes her hair. Sheâs humming a song you canât quite hear and smiling to herself. Not for the first time, you wonder why this person chose you.
She turns. âWhat do you want for Christmas?â You want to scream Save your money!, but you only shrug. âNothing, really.â
âNothing?â She crawls into bed and touches your leg. âAre you sure?â Again, you wonder why this person chose you.
As she takes the weight of you in her hand, your mind wanders. To your puts. Theyâll expire worthless, like you. After several minutes of failing to conjure your manhood, she asks, âWhatâs wrong?â
Stonks only go up.
But you donât.
You watch her as she brushes her hair. Sheâs humming a song you canât quite hear and smiling to herself. Not for the first time, you wonder why this person chose you.
She turns. âWhat do you want for Christmas?â You want to scream Save your money!, but you only shrug. âNothing, really.â
âNothing?â She crawls into bed and touches your leg. âAre you sure?â Again, you wonder why this person chose you.
As she takes the weight of you in her hand, your mind wanders. To your puts. Theyâll expire worthless, like you. After several minutes of failing to conjure your manhood, she asks, âWhatâs wrong?â
Stonks only go up.
But you donât.
Iâm a simple guy
Iâm a simple guy. I donât know about all these fancy âfinancial instrumentsâ or âmarket dynamicsâ or âwhere the clit is.â
I like the stock, I buy the stock.
Iâm a simple guy. I donât know about all these fancy âfinancial instrumentsâ or âmarket dynamicsâ or âwhere the clit is.â
I like the stock, I buy the stock.
Unrealized losses
She runs her hand through your thinning hair and laughs. âWhat?â you ask absentmindedly. Youâre looking at Futures, and youâre surprised to see them red.
âI want you to play with me.â She says it playfully, but the single ounce of you that isnât totally aloof realizes she said this in earnest. And so you do. You throw your phone, and you pin her to the sofa, then the ground. You both roll about, wrestling, like lion cubs. Kissing, lightly biting. Sometime later, you both stop, breathing hard. She grabs an open bottle of red wine, and you pass it back and forth. Eventually she says, âI want to do that more.â
But youâve already found your phone again to check Futures. Still red. âUh huh,â you say, distracted. She stares at you for a long moment, but you donât realize it. Silently, she gets up and goes to bed, and you donât say a word because you donât notice.
She hasnât left you yet, but she will soon.
Unrealized losses.
She runs her hand through your thinning hair and laughs. âWhat?â you ask absentmindedly. Youâre looking at Futures, and youâre surprised to see them red.
âI want you to play with me.â She says it playfully, but the single ounce of you that isnât totally aloof realizes she said this in earnest. And so you do. You throw your phone, and you pin her to the sofa, then the ground. You both roll about, wrestling, like lion cubs. Kissing, lightly biting. Sometime later, you both stop, breathing hard. She grabs an open bottle of red wine, and you pass it back and forth. Eventually she says, âI want to do that more.â
But youâve already found your phone again to check Futures. Still red. âUh huh,â you say, distracted. She stares at you for a long moment, but you donât realize it. Silently, she gets up and goes to bed, and you donât say a word because you donât notice.
She hasnât left you yet, but she will soon.
Unrealized losses.