She runs her hand through your thinning hair and laughs. “What?” you ask absentmindedly. You’re looking at Futures, and you’re surprised to see them red.
“I want you to play with me.” She says it playfully, but the single ounce of you that isn’t 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, “I want to do that more.”
But you’ve already found your phone again to check Futures. Still red. “Uh huh,” you say, distracted. She stares at you for a long moment, but you don’t realize it. Silently, she gets up and goes to bed, and you don’t say a word because you don’t notice.
She hasn’t left you yet, but she will soon.
Unrealized losses.
She runs her hand through your thinning hair and laughs. “What?” you ask absentmindedly. You’re looking at Futures, and you’re surprised to see them red.
“I want you to play with me.” She says it playfully, but the single ounce of you that isn’t 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, “I want to do that more.”
But you’ve already found your phone again to check Futures. Still red. “Uh huh,” you say, distracted. She stares at you for a long moment, but you don’t realize it. Silently, she gets up and goes to bed, and you don’t say a word because you don’t notice.
She hasn’t left you yet, but she will soon.
Unrealized losses.
Stimulus hopes in the year is 2025
The year is 2025. House speaker Nancy pelosi's brain jar has agreed with Mitch McConnell's new human skinbody to vote on the $12 covid stimulus package. This is the 37th revision to the package initially introduced in late 2020. One dollar will be split between all americans, two between all illegal immigrants, and the rest to Jeff bezos. Due to stimulus hopes, SPY has rallied to 600.
The year is 2025. House speaker Nancy pelosi's brain jar has agreed with Mitch McConnell's new human skinbody to vote on the $12 covid stimulus package. This is the 37th revision to the package initially introduced in late 2020. One dollar will be split between all americans, two between all illegal immigrants, and the rest to Jeff bezos. Due to stimulus hopes, SPY has rallied to 600.
Anyone basing trades right now on fundamentals is a fucking tool
So many arrogant fucks here love talking fundamental analysis when they can't even tell me if lil’ Yachty got another Ferrari much less how stuffed the fucking Oreos are now. Fucking clowns, all of them.
Shut the fuck up and do your trades. If you really need a valuation multiple you can't even derive to tell you whether you should buy a stock or not, you deserve CHGG.
Newsflash, the stock market never made sense nor will it. Best you can do is trade gourd futures you know about and feel with your hands that it hasn't been spotted by any number of fungal pathogens in the complex ecology of modern supply chains. Or alternatively manipulate markets like the rich investors who funnel you into silver every fucking time like clockwork. Warren Buffet's dad was Paul Revere, if you think that shit didn't help The Wizard of Omaha then not only are you retarded but also delusional.
Now stfu about EBITDA and long term debt-to-equity ratios. If you actually knew what the fuck was going to happen you'd be chilling in r/lounge with a fat chick, not on wsb posting "anyone basing trades right now on technical analysis is fucking tool.”
So many arrogant fucks here love talking fundamental analysis when they can't even tell me if lil’ Yachty got another Ferrari much less how stuffed the fucking Oreos are now. Fucking clowns, all of them.
Shut the fuck up and do your trades. If you really need a valuation multiple you can't even derive to tell you whether you should buy a stock or not, you deserve CHGG.
Newsflash, the stock market never made sense nor will it. Best you can do is trade gourd futures you know about and feel with your hands that it hasn't been spotted by any number of fungal pathogens in the complex ecology of modern supply chains. Or alternatively manipulate markets like the rich investors who funnel you into silver every fucking time like clockwork. Warren Buffet's dad was Paul Revere, if you think that shit didn't help The Wizard of Omaha then not only are you retarded but also delusional.
Now stfu about EBITDA and long term debt-to-equity ratios. If you actually knew what the fuck was going to happen you'd be chilling in r/lounge with a fat chick, not on wsb posting "anyone basing trades right now on technical analysis is fucking tool.”
Stonks only go up. But you don't.
You watch her as she brushes her hair. She’s humming a song you can’t quite hear and smiling to herself. Not for the first time, you wonder why this person chose you.
She turns. “What do you want for Christmas?” You want to scream Save your money!, but you only shrug. “Nothing, really.”
“Nothing?” She crawls into bed and touches your leg. “Are you sure?” Again, you wonder why this person chose you.
As she takes the weight of you in her hand, your mind wanders. To your puts. They’ll expire worthless, like you. After several minutes of failing to conjure your manhood, she asks, “What’s wrong?”
Stonks only go up.
But you don’t.
You watch her as she brushes her hair. She’s humming a song you can’t quite hear and smiling to herself. Not for the first time, you wonder why this person chose you.
She turns. “What do you want for Christmas?” You want to scream Save your money!, but you only shrug. “Nothing, really.”
“Nothing?” She crawls into bed and touches your leg. “Are you sure?” Again, you wonder why this person chose you.
As she takes the weight of you in her hand, your mind wanders. To your puts. They’ll expire worthless, like you. After several minutes of failing to conjure your manhood, she asks, “What’s wrong?”
Stonks only go up.
But you don’t.