Imagine spending 20K on a bloomberg terminal and thousands on hardware just to get smoke checked by some retards on the toilet trading on their phone that are not only on the spectrum but might be the actual spectrum.
Imagine spending 20K on a bloomberg terminal and thousands on hardware just to get smoke checked by some retards on the toilet trading on their phone that are not only on the spectrum but might be the actual spectrum.
WSB Choose your fighter
Choose your fighter
Alex Magikarp 🐟
Elon TechnoCuckLord 🤖+🤴
Jeff Divorcedzos 💔
Salmonella 🐔 Nutella 🍫
Bill "HELL Giga GUH is coming" Clownman 🤡
Chamath, "I'm abouta fuck shit up" Papaya 🍈
Ryan Cocken your butthole 🥒💦 👉👌😳
🥒 Z 🥒 U 🥒 C 🥒 C 🥒
Tim 🍎 Bottom 🅱️ENIS
Jack Ma MIA 🤷♂️
Cathie "A prayer a day keeps the 🐻s' away" or "Jesus, take my buying power" Woods 🙏✝️
Choose your fighter
Alex Magikarp 🐟
Elon TechnoCuckLord 🤖+🤴
Jeff Divorcedzos 💔
Salmonella 🐔 Nutella 🍫
Bill "HELL Giga GUH is coming" Clownman 🤡
Chamath, "I'm abouta fuck shit up" Papaya 🍈
Ryan Cocken your butthole 🥒💦 👉👌😳
🥒 Z 🥒 U 🥒 C 🥒 C 🥒
Tim 🍎 Bottom 🅱️ENIS
Jack Ma MIA 🤷♂️
Cathie "A prayer a day keeps the 🐻s' away" or "Jesus, take my buying power" Woods 🙏✝️
Investing in gourd futures
Due to local fluctuations in the tropopause, the jet stream has been shifting rapidly in a counterclockwise vector, causing a rapid disincorporation of the Hadley vortex cells in the lower ionosphere. Because of this, the geostrophic solar wind balance has deteriorated rapidly in the northern hemisphere. In essence, autumnal weather patterns in the western United States will lead to the biggest ornamental gourd yield in recorded history. Investing in gourd agricultural futures could likely produce up to $1600 per day in passive income. However, investing at the apex of the curve would be the most conducive to profit as the arbitrage (particularly 12b-1 fees) will develop at a market share higher than the back-end load. Basically, no one will be able to buy the stock at a higher price than you, and all value invested will be retained. A preliminary market penetration investment of $50,000 would be most efficient in generating this revenue.
Due to local fluctuations in the tropopause, the jet stream has been shifting rapidly in a counterclockwise vector, causing a rapid disincorporation of the Hadley vortex cells in the lower ionosphere. Because of this, the geostrophic solar wind balance has deteriorated rapidly in the northern hemisphere. In essence, autumnal weather patterns in the western United States will lead to the biggest ornamental gourd yield in recorded history. Investing in gourd agricultural futures could likely produce up to $1600 per day in passive income. However, investing at the apex of the curve would be the most conducive to profit as the arbitrage (particularly 12b-1 fees) will develop at a market share higher than the back-end load. Basically, no one will be able to buy the stock at a higher price than you, and all value invested will be retained. A preliminary market penetration investment of $50,000 would be most efficient in generating this revenue.
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.
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.
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.