If you're a passenger on a newly recertified 737MAX and it starts to nosedive into the sea so you buy shitloads of BA puts over WiFi before impact, is that insider trading?
If you're a passenger on a newly recertified 737MAX and it starts to nosedive into the sea so you buy shitloads of BA puts over WiFi before impact, is that insider trading?
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.
a tesla drives down the street in 2021
the year is 2021
A tesla drives down the street
unknowing of the danger behind it
a beast of American metal and lightning
The driver realizes he is in danger in his commie-fornia shoebox
He presses the pussy pedal as hard as he can
It cannot save him, he can hear the music already
"THIS IS GAWWWWWD'S COUNTRRRRRYYYYYYY"
He realizes he is already dead
In an instant he becomes like a fly in the grill of a truck
In the grill of the Ford F-150 EV
It stops for no one
the year is 2021
A tesla drives down the street
unknowing of the danger behind it
a beast of American metal and lightning
The driver realizes he is in danger in his commie-fornia shoebox
He presses the pussy pedal as hard as he can
It cannot save him, he can hear the music already
"THIS IS GAWWWWWD'S COUNTRRRRRYYYYYYY"
He realizes he is already dead
In an instant he becomes like a fly in the grill of a truck
In the grill of the Ford F-150 EV
It stops for no one
If PLTR hits 35 today
If PLTR hits 35 today I will wipe with quarter ply toilet paper and accidentally discover myself
If PLTR hits 35 today I will wipe with quarter ply toilet paper and accidentally discover myself
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.