I'm starting to think the people telling me to buy BB at $20 were being serious about not being financial advisors
I used to be a real ad
More WallStreetBets Copypastas
I challenge you to “Turtle King”
Before my ban, someone challenged me to a duel with cocks.
I challenge you to “Turtle King” instead.
We each dock our unhardened cocks into each other, then we put on clips of Yellen speaking during FOMC meetings.
The first to effectively go from flaccid to erect and push the other out of the “dock” is crowned Turtle 🤴.
Dual me, I’m 4-0.
WallStreetBets
A man orders bat at his favorite restaurant
A man orders bat at his favorite restaurant.
3 years later,
NFLX fucking tanks 20% after earnings.
WallStreetBets
It's called empathy
Sometimes watching porn I like to pretend I'm the "woman" it's called empathy not homosexuality.
WallStreetBets
These are classic hedge fund tricks.
WHAT'S HAPPENING RIGHT NOW IS NOT A SELL-OFF.
Melvin Capital is going to throw a lot of tricks at us that will make it look like the stock is dropping. Don't fall for it.
Do not sell if you see any of these things happen:
GME drops by 30% or more after hours
SEC filings show that shorts have all exited their positions
GME drops below $1 a share
The Gamestop locations near you start closing
GME files for bankruptcy
GME is delisted from the stock exchange
Your bank forecloses on your home for late payment
Your children have children of their own who grow up and become investment bankers and tell you that you should stop telling people you're "diamond handing" a company that went out of business 30 years ago
These are classic hedge fund tricks.
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.