I couldn’t tell you what half of the companies in my portfolio do
I couldn’t tell you what half of the companies in my portfolio do or even what the ticker stands for...but you better believe I’m jacked to the mf’ing tits in every single meme stonk that you crayon eaters have been pumping. CHOO CHOO MF’ER.
I couldn’t tell you what half of the companies in my portfolio do or even what the ticker stands for...but you better believe I’m jacked to the mf’ing tits in every single meme stonk that you crayon eaters have been pumping. CHOO CHOO MF’ER.
Stimulus talks going well in 2946
The year is 2946, Robot Mitch McConnel and Cyborg Nancy Pelosi report stimulus talks going well.
The Dow rewards them and hits 6.02 x 1023.
The year is 2946, Robot Mitch McConnel and Cyborg Nancy Pelosi report stimulus talks going well.
The Dow rewards them and hits 6.02 x 1023.
Red futures :(
Bought a bunch of calls thinking I was going to be able to afford an escort to shit on my chest, now it's these red futures that are shitting on my chest.
Bought a bunch of calls thinking I was going to be able to afford an escort to shit on my chest, now it's these red futures that are shitting on my chest.
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.
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.
We can't blame market
To be fair "but I poop from there" wasn't an explicit "no". We can't blame market for doing what it did.
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