I'm starting to think the people telling me to buy BB at $20 were being serious about not being financial advisors
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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
WallStreetBets
Can you guys critique my portfolio? New investor looking for guidance
Not sure if this is the best place to post this but I just inherited 1.5M from my distant uncle and want to make him proud. Right now my portfolio I have:
10% LUCK
20% SKLZ
15% CPW
5% PLTR
50% PAIN
and 100% R.TO (RTN)
is this an ok for a beginner looking for conservative annual 37% gains?
WallStreetBets
Mr. Musk I don’t feel so good.
Mr. Musk I don’t feel so good.
༼ つ ◕_ ◕ ༽つ
༼ つ ◕_ ◕ ::;:.::..:. . . . . . . . . . . .
༼ つ ◕_ :;:.::..:. . . . . . . . . . . . . .
༼ つ :;:.::..:::....:.:... . . . . . . . . .
༼ ;::,':;:.::..:::....:.:... . . . . . . . . .
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.
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.