Graham Stephen is a real estate YouTuber known for his normie audience and stinginess: https://www.reddit.com/r/wallstreetbets/comments/klyw9y/what_are_your_moves_tomorrow_december_29_2020/ghd1spt/
What happened to this ad? :(
More WallStreetBets Copypastas
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.
Bear King Michael Burry in the ring, slappin TSLA with a metal chair. His glass eye open wide with rage as he batters TSLA relentlessly.
"The valuation..." crunch "makes...." crunch "NO.... " crunch "SENSE!" he roars with maniacal autistic glee.
TSLA struggles for the edge of the ring, but coughs blood as each hit lands, and eventually stops moving. Bear King Burry drops the chair.
Bear King Burry turns to the crowd
"Was this your champion!? Was TSLA supposed to be your chosen one!?"
A child in the crowd turns his face into his mother's side and cries.
On the side of the ring WSB can barely move. TSLA was supposed to tag them in, but couldn't make it to the side in time.
"Get up TSLA" WSB whimpers hopelessly, a single tear rolling down their cheek. "Get up..."
Bear King Burry turns to WSB
"Now it is your portfolio's turn. Get in here you little bitch."
"Excuse me." Someone replies from behind BKB. "I believe I can give you the fight you want."
A robed figure is administering smelling salts to TSLA. The figure puts TSLA on its shoulder and carries TSLA gently out of the ring.
"And just who the fuck do you think you are?" BKB rumbles ominously.
BKB's fingers squeeze so tightly on the chair that metal bends.
"Who am I?" the robed figure inquires.
The robed figure stands straight and stretches to their full height. They must be at least 7' tall.
The crowd stops crying and watches in stunned silence.
"Who am I?" The figure repeats menacingly.
The figure turns around to face BKB, ripping off his robe. A gleaming light fills the stadium. Before us stands a Golden deity, rippling with muscle. If there is an ounce of body fat it is currently in hiding, only to make way for seemingly endless coiled golden musculature.
The figure looks directly into Bear King Burry's eyes.
"I'm Goldman Sachs, and i'm here to kill you."
Bear King Michael Burry in the ring, slappin TSLA with a metal chair. His glass eye open wide with rage as he batters TSLA relentlessly.
"The valuation..." crunch "makes...." crunch "NO.... " crunch "SENSE!" he roars with maniacal autistic glee.
TSLA struggles for the edge of the ring, but coughs blood as each hit lands, and eventually stops moving. Bear King Burry drops the chair.
Bear King Burry turns to the crowd
"Was this your champion!? Was TSLA supposed to be your chosen one!?"
A child in the crowd turns his face into his mother's side and cries.
On the side of the ring WSB can barely move. TSLA was supposed to tag them in, but couldn't make it to the side in time.
"Get up TSLA" WSB whimpers hopelessly, a single tear rolling down their cheek. "Get up..."
Bear King Burry turns to WSB
"Now it is your portfolio's turn. Get in here you little bitch."
"Excuse me." Someone replies from behind BKB. "I believe I can give you the fight you want."
A robed figure is administering smelling salts to TSLA. The figure puts TSLA on its shoulder and carries TSLA gently out of the ring.
"And just who the fuck do you think you are?" BKB rumbles ominously.
BKB's fingers squeeze so tightly on the chair that metal bends.
"Who am I?" the robed figure inquires.
The robed figure stands straight and stretches to their full height. They must be at least 7' tall.
The crowd stops crying and watches in stunned silence.
"Who am I?" The figure repeats menacingly.
The figure turns around to face BKB, ripping off his robe. A gleaming light fills the stadium. Before us stands a Golden deity, rippling with muscle. If there is an ounce of body fat it is currently in hiding, only to make way for seemingly endless coiled golden musculature.
The figure looks directly into Bear King Burry's eyes.
"I'm Goldman Sachs, and i'm here to kill you."
Daily stock prayer
Time for our daily prayer:
Our calls, Who art in PLTR,
Perfect be Thy Timing.
Thy tendies come.
Thy expirations be done,
on earth as it is in Wall Street.
Give us this day our daily Lambos.
And forgive us of our puts,
as we forgive those who buy puts against us.
And lead us not into Debt,
but deliver us unto tendies. Amen
Time for our daily prayer:
Our calls, Who art in PLTR,
Perfect be Thy Timing.
Thy tendies come.
Thy expirations be done,
on earth as it is in Wall Street.
Give us this day our daily Lambos.
And forgive us of our puts,
as we forgive those who buy puts against us.
And lead us not into Debt,
but deliver us unto tendies. Amen
Stonks only go up. But you don't.
You watch her as she brushes her hair. Sheβs humming a song you canβt quite hear and smiling to herself. Not for the first time, you wonder why this person chose you.
She turns. βWhat do you want for Christmas?β You want to scream Save your money!, but you only shrug. βNothing, really.β
βNothing?β She crawls into bed and touches your leg. βAre you sure?β Again, you wonder why this person chose you.
As she takes the weight of you in her hand, your mind wanders. To your puts. Theyβll expire worthless, like you. After several minutes of failing to conjure your manhood, she asks, βWhatβs wrong?β
Stonks only go up.
But you donβt.
You watch her as she brushes her hair. Sheβs humming a song you canβt quite hear and smiling to herself. Not for the first time, you wonder why this person chose you.
She turns. βWhat do you want for Christmas?β You want to scream Save your money!, but you only shrug. βNothing, really.β
βNothing?β She crawls into bed and touches your leg. βAre you sure?β Again, you wonder why this person chose you.
As she takes the weight of you in her hand, your mind wanders. To your puts. Theyβll expire worthless, like you. After several minutes of failing to conjure your manhood, she asks, βWhatβs wrong?β
Stonks only go up.
But you donβt.
What happened to this ad? :(