Jeff Bezos
-Bald
-Exwife took half his networth
-Second richest person
Elon Musk
-Grew back full head of hair
-Has girlfriend, allegedly had a threesome with Amber Heard and Cara Delevingne
-Richest person
TSLA > AMZN
Jeff Bezos
-Bald
-Exwife took half his networth
-Second richest person
Elon Musk
-Grew back full head of hair
-Has girlfriend, allegedly had a threesome with Amber Heard and Cara Delevingne
-Richest person
TSLA > AMZN
I couldnât tell you what half of the companies in my portfolio do
I couldnât tell you what half of the companies in my portfolio do or even what the ticker stands for...but you better believe Iâm jacked to the mfâing tits in every single meme stonk that you crayon eaters have been pumping. CHOO CHOO MFâER.
I couldnât tell you what half of the companies in my portfolio do or even what the ticker stands for...but you better believe Iâm jacked to the mfâing tits in every single meme stonk that you crayon eaters have been pumping. CHOO CHOO MFâER.
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.
âAre you coming to bed?â your wife yells down the stairs. It seemed harmless at first, but as the pandemic drew on, so did your investment. Youâll stop soon, though. âSoon!â 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 haltâthe alternation feature brokenâon red. The red fills the room and covers your flesh. You look down at your hands, and they look like theyâre bleeding. Like your calls.
After a timeâhours?âyou realize youâre 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.
âAre you coming to bed?â your wife yells down the stairs. It seemed harmless at first, but as the pandemic drew on, so did your investment. Youâll stop soon, though. âSoon!â 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 haltâthe alternation feature brokenâon red. The red fills the room and covers your flesh. You look down at your hands, and they look like theyâre bleeding. Like your calls.
After a timeâhours?âyou realize youâre sitting in complete darkness. Your lights have expired, worthless.
Unrealized losses
She runs her hand through your thinning hair and laughs. âWhat?â you ask absentmindedly. Youâre looking at Futures, and youâre surprised to see them red.
âI want you to play with me.â She says it playfully, but the single ounce of you that isnât 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, âI want to do that more.â
But youâve already found your phone again to check Futures. Still red. âUh huh,â you say, distracted. She stares at you for a long moment, but you donât realize it. Silently, she gets up and goes to bed, and you donât say a word because you donât notice.
She hasnât left you yet, but she will soon.
Unrealized losses.
She runs her hand through your thinning hair and laughs. âWhat?â you ask absentmindedly. Youâre looking at Futures, and youâre surprised to see them red.
âI want you to play with me.â She says it playfully, but the single ounce of you that isnât 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, âI want to do that more.â
But youâve already found your phone again to check Futures. Still red. âUh huh,â you say, distracted. She stares at you for a long moment, but you donât realize it. Silently, she gets up and goes to bed, and you donât say a word because you donât notice.
She hasnât left you yet, but she will soon.
Unrealized losses.
Oh my gourd, I am financially ruined (agricultural futures)
I have lost everything, and I'm not sure how to continue. This summer I invested $17,500 (six months salary and my entire life savings) into ornamental gourd futures, hoping to capitalize on this lucrative emerging industry. After watching a video about Vincent Kosuga and his monopoly on onions, I decided I'd try to do something similar with another vegetable. I did some research and found out many agricultural forecasters expected this year's gourd yield would be far smaller than the past, due to deteriorating soil conditions in central Mexico and a warmer-than-average spring. At first, demand soared around Halloween and prices skyrocketed, but the gourd bubble burst on November 12th. Unfortunately, the coronavirus caused a massive drop-off in demand due to fewer families decorating their tables for thanksgiving, and prices plummeted. I had invested early enough that I thought I would still be fine, but then on the morning of December 2nd, a new email in my inbox caused my stomach to turn into a pretzel. The massive gourd shipment from Argentina, scheduled for early March, had arrived. I was planning on selling off my futures right before this, in February, but this ruined everything. To top it off, the gourds in this shipment were absolutely gargantuan, some topping 4 pounds each, causing the price-per-pound to drop like an anchor into the range of 6 cents per pound. I am ruined.
I have lost everything, and I'm not sure how to continue. This summer I invested $17,500 (six months salary and my entire life savings) into ornamental gourd futures, hoping to capitalize on this lucrative emerging industry. After watching a video about Vincent Kosuga and his monopoly on onions, I decided I'd try to do something similar with another vegetable. I did some research and found out many agricultural forecasters expected this year's gourd yield would be far smaller than the past, due to deteriorating soil conditions in central Mexico and a warmer-than-average spring. At first, demand soared around Halloween and prices skyrocketed, but the gourd bubble burst on November 12th. Unfortunately, the coronavirus caused a massive drop-off in demand due to fewer families decorating their tables for thanksgiving, and prices plummeted. I had invested early enough that I thought I would still be fine, but then on the morning of December 2nd, a new email in my inbox caused my stomach to turn into a pretzel. The massive gourd shipment from Argentina, scheduled for early March, had arrived. I was planning on selling off my futures right before this, in February, but this ruined everything. To top it off, the gourds in this shipment were absolutely gargantuan, some topping 4 pounds each, causing the price-per-pound to drop like an anchor into the range of 6 cents per pound. I am ruined.
I used to be a real ad