[Copypasta] The Battle of Gamestop rages on.

The Battle of Gamestop rages on. Pre-market we could hear the bears in no-man’s land, baiting us towards higher prices so the shorts could do their dirty work. I was stationed at the 13.80 line, and knew the morning was going to be hot. I shoveled a breakfast of tendies and said a quick prayer to Father Cohen. When the bell rang, the bears surged into our trenches. Blood and rainbow fur filled the air and littered the ground. The Diamond Division has seen worse days, and we held firm. As the bears retreated we gave chase to retake ground we’d lost in the past week. As I caught my breath near the 14.50, I could see bodies everywhere; paper hands who had fallen in earlier battles. One of them groaned and reached a hand towards me. I spat on him and kept moving. No honor in retreat, and no sympathy for self-inflicted wounds. This war won’t be won in a day, but it will be won. Tell my wife’s boyfriend to tell her I love her.
December 2020

WallStreetBets

(▀̿Ĺ̯├┬┴┬┴ Psst... kid, you wanna disable adblock?
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bears are always fucked

Last week I went to go outside for a smoke and this other guy was there smoking as well. We got to talking and the talk of options trading came up. I accidentally slipped that I had bought a SPY put to hedge my portfolio. He immediately gets excited takes off his pants and bends over. Didn't realize he was a 🌈🐻 this whole time. Ofcourse I obliged cause bers r always fukkd
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Which one of you got reddit to send me this

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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.
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If PLTR hits 35 today

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Stonks only go up. But you don't.

You watch her as she brushes her hair. She’s humming a song you can’t quite hear and smiling to herself. Not for the first time, you wonder why this person chose you. She turns. “What do you want for Christmas?” You want to scream Save your money!, but you only shrug. “Nothing, really.” “Nothing?” She crawls into bed and touches your leg. “Are you sure?” Again, you wonder why this person chose you. As she takes the weight of you in her hand, your mind wanders. To your puts. They’ll expire worthless, like you. After several minutes of failing to conjure your manhood, she asks, “What’s wrong?” Stonks only go up. But you don’t.
December 2020

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