the year is 2021
A tesla drives down the street
unknowing of the danger behind it
a beast of American metal and lightning
The driver realizes he is in danger in his commie-fornia shoebox
He presses the pussy pedal as hard as he can
It cannot save him, he can hear the music already
"THIS IS GAWWWWWD'S COUNTRRRRRYYYYYYY"
He realizes he is already dead
In an instant he becomes like a fly in the grill of a truck
In the grill of the Ford F-150 EV
It stops for no one
the year is 2021
A tesla drives down the street
unknowing of the danger behind it
a beast of American metal and lightning
The driver realizes he is in danger in his commie-fornia shoebox
He presses the pussy pedal as hard as he can
It cannot save him, he can hear the music already
"THIS IS GAWWWWWD'S COUNTRRRRRYYYYYYY"
He realizes he is already dead
In an instant he becomes like a fly in the grill of a truck
In the grill of the Ford F-150 EV
It stops for no one
Am I The Asshole for not being able to trade options for my dad? I’m 6.
This started about 4 years ago when I was 2 years old. My dad started to supplement me 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 have retained absolutely nothing even though my dad has spent every waking minute trying to make me understand. He has done almost everything including having Jerome Powell's speeches play while I am sleeping and only having Warren Buffet on the TV to try and make me understand the market. Yesterday, he got to a breaking point when I couldn't differentiate between a straddle and a strangle even though we went through different strategies for almost a month straight. My dad finally convinced my mom that they were doing the right thing when he said that I will soon be a Wendy's worker begging my wife's husband for a weekly allowance because I will never amount to be anything. He 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, plz adopt me from Eternal Sunny Orphanage in Omaha, Nebraska.
This started about 4 years ago when I was 2 years old. My dad started to supplement me 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 have retained absolutely nothing even though my dad has spent every waking minute trying to make me understand. He has done almost everything including having Jerome Powell's speeches play while I am sleeping and only having Warren Buffet on the TV to try and make me understand the market. Yesterday, he got to a breaking point when I couldn't differentiate between a straddle and a strangle even though we went through different strategies for almost a month straight. My dad finally convinced my mom that they were doing the right thing when he said that I will soon be a Wendy's worker begging my wife's husband for a weekly allowance because I will never amount to be anything. He 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, plz adopt me from Eternal Sunny Orphanage in Omaha, Nebraska.
Apple announces an EV program
Oh boy I can't wait until 2024 when I can wake up to my Apple Homepod Siri alarm and check my Apple Watch for notifications and take a shower in my Apple Big Douche then put my makeup on before work in my Apple Mirror then take my Apple Car to my job at Apple Phone Plant #584 so I can work on my Mac Pro workstation designing the latest Apple Product the iShit smart toilet that syncs with your iAsshole to sense when you have a massive log brewing in my large intestine and sends me a notification to my apple colonoscopy bag. Russian hackers will know what I had for dinner.
Oh boy I can't wait until 2024 when I can wake up to my Apple Homepod Siri alarm and check my Apple Watch for notifications and take a shower in my Apple Big Douche then put my makeup on before work in my Apple Mirror then take my Apple Car to my job at Apple Phone Plant #584 so I can work on my Mac Pro workstation designing the latest Apple Product the iShit smart toilet that syncs with your iAsshole to sense when you have a massive log brewing in my large intestine and sends me a notification to my apple colonoscopy bag. Russian hackers will know what I had for dinner.
Don't use the "F word" on the trade floor
Just heard an employee use the “F word” on the trade floor, and immediately fired them. Maybe other funds will tolerate that kind of language, but don’t you dare talk about Fundamentals here.
Just heard an employee use the “F word” on the trade floor, and immediately fired them. Maybe other funds will tolerate that kind of language, but don’t you dare talk about Fundamentals here.
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."
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."
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