I don’t care if there’s a microchip in the vaccine. I’d let them put a whole MacBook Pro inside of me if it meant I could get drunk at Applebees again
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More WallStreetBets Copypastas
Stimulus talks going well in 2946
The year is 2946, Robot Mitch McConnel and Cyborg Nancy Pelosi report stimulus talks going well.
The Dow rewards them and hits 6.02 x 1023.
WallStreetBets
WSB Choose your fighter
Choose your fighter
Alex Magikarp 🐟
Elon TechnoCuckLord 🤖+🤴
Jeff Divorcedzos 💔
Salmonella 🐔 Nutella 🍫
Bill "HELL Giga GUH is coming" Clownman 🤡
Chamath, "I'm abouta fuck shit up" Papaya 🍈
Ryan Cocken your butthole 🥒💦 👉👌😳
🥒 Z 🥒 U 🥒 C 🥒 C 🥒
Tim 🍎 Bottom 🅱️ENIS
Jack Ma MIA 🤷♂️
Cathie "A prayer a day keeps the 🐻s' away" or "Jesus, take my buying power" Woods 🙏✝️
WallStreetBets
Mitch is the type of dude who...
Mitch McConnell shaves his face with the same razor he shaves his nuts and butt hole
Mitch the type of guy to put on sunglasses to get another free sample at Costco
Mitch the type of guy that says "you too" when the waitress tells him to enjoy his meal.
Mitch the kinda guy to leave “smile more” on the tip section of a receipt
Mitch is the type of dude who says "Ni Hao" to the waiter at a Thai restaurant
Mitch the type of guy to shower then shit
Mitch McConnell claps when the plane lands
Mitch is the type of dude who thinks crest toothpaste is spicy
Mitch the kind of guy that uses self checkout with a full cart.
WallStreetBets
GME revamp
GME should keep their retail stores but make it more of an experience like Hooters. Workers should be hot big tiddy goth girls or whatever other fetish gamers have. Bonuses if they have active social media (Instagram, Tik Tok, Only Fans, etc.) and extra bonus if they also stream on Twitch. 100% guaranteed increase traffic and sales in stores (simp farms). Literally cannot go tits up.
WallStreetBets
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.