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[Copypasta]The real power of compounding
Remember, if you lose 10% a day over several days youβre actually losing less money as time passes. This is what people mean when they talk about the power of compounding
Remember, if you lose 10% a day over several days youβre actually losing less money as time passes. This is what people mean when they talk about the power of compounding
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
The Battle of Gamestop rages on.
The Battle of Gamestop rages on.
Pre-market we could hear the bears in no-manβs 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 weβd 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 wonβt be won in a day, but it will be won. Tell my wifeβs boyfriend to tell her I love her.
The Battle of Gamestop rages on.
Pre-market we could hear the bears in no-manβs 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 weβd 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 wonβt be won in a day, but it will be won. Tell my wifeβs boyfriend to tell her I love her.
Am I The Asshole for not being able to trade options for my dad? Iβm 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.
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."
NOT. SELLING. GAMESTOP.
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NOT. FUCKING. SELLING.
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NOT PRESSING βSELLβ ON 1. FUCKING. SHARE.
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IβLL GO TO $0.00 BEFORE BILLIONAIRES GET ONE MORE PENNY FROM US.
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CANβT STOP. WONβT STOP. GAMESTOP.
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TOMORROW, I THINK IβLL BE HOLDING THE LINE. MAYBE MAKE SOME TENDIES, TOO.
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IβLL SEE EVERY ONE OF YOU BEAUTIFUL APES ON PLUTO SOON, AND ITβS GOING TO JUST BE A SEA OF SPARKLING DIAMOND.
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I LOVE YOU, ALL, AND IβM NOT SELLING, AND IβM NOT FUCKING LEAVING. NOT ONE. FUCKING. SHARE!!!
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