What the fuck did you just fucking say about OTM FDs
What the fuck did you just fucking say about OTM FDs, you little bitch? I'll have you know I graduated bottom of my class in the Special Needs Division of the Navy Seals, and I've been bag holding from pump n' dumps on WSB since 2012, AND I have over 300 confirmed margin calls. I am trained in the 'tism and I'm the top retard in the entire United States armed forces. You are nothing to me but just another normie retail investor. I will wipe out my portfolio with precision the likes of which has never been seen before on this Earth, mark my fucking words. You think you can get away with saying that shit about OTM FDs over the Internet? Think again, fuckface. As we speak I am contacting my wife's network of boyfriends across the USA and your IP is being traced right now so you better prepare for the storm, maggot. The storm that wipes out the pathetic little thing you call your portfolio. Your fucking 401k is dead, kid. I can trade anywhere, anytime, and I can lose fat stacks over seven hundred ways, and that's just with TSLA FDs. Not only am I extensively trained in sniffing glue, but I have access to the entire crayon collection of the United States Marine Corps and I will use it to its full extent to wipe your miserable ass boomer stocks off the face of the continent, you little shit. If only you could have known what unholy retribution your little "clever" comment was about to bring down upon you, maybe you would have held your fucking tongue. But you couldn't, you didn't, and now you're paying the price, you goddamn idiot. I will shit crayon diarrhea all over you, the likes of which would make even Jackson Pollock jealous, and you will drown in it. You're fucking done, kiddo.
What the fuck did you just fucking say about OTM FDs, you little bitch? I'll have you know I graduated bottom of my class in the Special Needs Division of the Navy Seals, and I've been bag holding from pump n' dumps on WSB since 2012, AND I have over 300 confirmed margin calls. I am trained in the 'tism and I'm the top retard in the entire United States armed forces. You are nothing to me but just another normie retail investor. I will wipe out my portfolio with precision the likes of which has never been seen before on this Earth, mark my fucking words. You think you can get away with saying that shit about OTM FDs over the Internet? Think again, fuckface. As we speak I am contacting my wife's network of boyfriends across the USA and your IP is being traced right now so you better prepare for the storm, maggot. The storm that wipes out the pathetic little thing you call your portfolio. Your fucking 401k is dead, kid. I can trade anywhere, anytime, and I can lose fat stacks over seven hundred ways, and that's just with TSLA FDs. Not only am I extensively trained in sniffing glue, but I have access to the entire crayon collection of the United States Marine Corps and I will use it to its full extent to wipe your miserable ass boomer stocks off the face of the continent, you little shit. If only you could have known what unholy retribution your little "clever" comment was about to bring down upon you, maybe you would have held your fucking tongue. But you couldn't, you didn't, and now you're paying the price, you goddamn idiot. I will shit crayon diarrhea all over you, the likes of which would make even Jackson Pollock jealous, and you will drown in it. You're fucking done, kiddo.
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.
βAre you coming to bed?β your wife yells down the stairs. It seemed harmless at first, but as the pandemic drew on, so did your investment. Youβll stop soon, though. βSoon!β 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 haltβthe alternation feature brokenβon red. The red fills the room and covers your flesh. You look down at your hands, and they look like theyβre bleeding. Like your calls.
After a timeβhours?βyou realize youβre 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.
βAre you coming to bed?β your wife yells down the stairs. It seemed harmless at first, but as the pandemic drew on, so did your investment. Youβll stop soon, though. βSoon!β 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 haltβthe alternation feature brokenβon red. The red fills the room and covers your flesh. You look down at your hands, and they look like theyβre bleeding. Like your calls.
After a timeβhours?βyou realize youβre sitting in complete darkness. Your lights have expired, worthless.
Unrealized losses
She runs her hand through your thinning hair and laughs. βWhat?β you ask absentmindedly. Youβre looking at Futures, and youβre surprised to see them red.
βI want you to play with me.β She says it playfully, but the single ounce of you that isnβt totally aloof realizes she said this in earnest. And so you do. You throw your phone, and you pin her to the sofa, then the ground. You both roll about, wrestling, like lion cubs. Kissing, lightly biting. Sometime later, you both stop, breathing hard. She grabs an open bottle of red wine, and you pass it back and forth. Eventually she says, βI want to do that more.β
But youβve already found your phone again to check Futures. Still red. βUh huh,β you say, distracted. She stares at you for a long moment, but you donβt realize it. Silently, she gets up and goes to bed, and you donβt say a word because you donβt notice.
She hasnβt left you yet, but she will soon.
Unrealized losses.
She runs her hand through your thinning hair and laughs. βWhat?β you ask absentmindedly. Youβre looking at Futures, and youβre surprised to see them red.
βI want you to play with me.β She says it playfully, but the single ounce of you that isnβt totally aloof realizes she said this in earnest. And so you do. You throw your phone, and you pin her to the sofa, then the ground. You both roll about, wrestling, like lion cubs. Kissing, lightly biting. Sometime later, you both stop, breathing hard. She grabs an open bottle of red wine, and you pass it back and forth. Eventually she says, βI want to do that more.β
But youβve already found your phone again to check Futures. Still red. βUh huh,β you say, distracted. She stares at you for a long moment, but you donβt realize it. Silently, she gets up and goes to bed, and you donβt say a word because you donβt notice.
She hasnβt left you yet, but she will soon.
Unrealized losses.
Anyone basing trades on technical analysis right now is a fucking tool
So many arrogant fucks here love talking technical analysis when they can't even do basic fraction arithmetic much less understand Ito Calculus. Fucking clowns, all of them.
Shut the fuck up and do your trades. If you really need a number you can't even derive to tell you whether you should buy a stock or not you deserve losing all and hanging yourself.
Newsflash, the stock market never made sense nor will it. Best you can do is trade shit you know about and feel still hasn't been spotted by the bandwagon of smooth brains on subreddits like this one or r/stocks . Or alternatively manipulate the market like the rich investors you look up to do. Warren Buffet's dad was a politician, if you think that shit didn't help that fat fuck then not only are you retarded but also delusional.
Now stfu about volatility and RSI. If you actually knew what the fuck was going to happen you'd be chilling in Hawaii with a fat titty chick not on Reddit posting "technical analysis".
So many arrogant fucks here love talking technical analysis when they can't even do basic fraction arithmetic much less understand Ito Calculus. Fucking clowns, all of them.
Shut the fuck up and do your trades. If you really need a number you can't even derive to tell you whether you should buy a stock or not you deserve losing all and hanging yourself.
Newsflash, the stock market never made sense nor will it. Best you can do is trade shit you know about and feel still hasn't been spotted by the bandwagon of smooth brains on subreddits like this one or r/stocks . Or alternatively manipulate the market like the rich investors you look up to do. Warren Buffet's dad was a politician, if you think that shit didn't help that fat fuck then not only are you retarded but also delusional.
Now stfu about volatility and RSI. If you actually knew what the fuck was going to happen you'd be chilling in Hawaii with a fat titty chick not on Reddit posting "technical analysis".