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
Police clearing out a homeless encampment
On my way into the office today I saw the police clearing out a homeless encampment under a bridge, forcing them into the cold and rain. I keep playing it over in my head and haven’t been able to focus on work all day because of my erection.
On my way into the office today I saw the police clearing out a homeless encampment under a bridge, forcing them into the cold and rain. I keep playing it over in my head and haven’t been able to focus on work all day because of my erection.
Bear King Burry vs TSLA
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."
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.
We should buy Reddit
We should buy Reddit.
Not the stock. The actual company.
If we all get together and own 51% then we will own this entire website.
We could make the rules, profit from the advertising, and finally get paid for the memes we make.
I've even come up with a list of things we could do as new owners:
Reddit mods can apply for paid-internships at Reddit. This is much closer to having a real job than what they currently do and would benefit the organization.
Your flair is your official title at the company. IE: instead of "CFO" you'll be "PotatoFart"
NSFW posts will receive special protections--and if you happen to work in our new skyscraper then NSFW posts are automatically considered SFW.
Everyone gets a turn in the corporate jet.
Elon becomes a mod. He can also apply to become a paid intern.
We have a monthly party on our company yacht: The S.S. VisualMod.
Our corporate cafeteria is a dining hall with fast food restaurants along the side--but they're all Wendy's.
I think this is a great idea.
Keep it high and tight.
👖🚀👖🚀👖🚀
We should buy Reddit.
Not the stock. The actual company.
If we all get together and own 51% then we will own this entire website.
We could make the rules, profit from the advertising, and finally get paid for the memes we make.
I've even come up with a list of things we could do as new owners:
Reddit mods can apply for paid-internships at Reddit. This is much closer to having a real job than what they currently do and would benefit the organization.
Your flair is your official title at the company. IE: instead of "CFO" you'll be "PotatoFart"
NSFW posts will receive special protections--and if you happen to work in our new skyscraper then NSFW posts are automatically considered SFW.
Everyone gets a turn in the corporate jet.
Elon becomes a mod. He can also apply to become a paid intern.
We have a monthly party on our company yacht: The S.S. VisualMod.
Our corporate cafeteria is a dining hall with fast food restaurants along the side--but they're all Wendy's.
I think this is a great idea.
Keep it high and tight.
👖🚀👖🚀👖🚀
Genetics is the future
I keep putting more money into ARKG and making more money and I'm starting to actually fall in love with the genetics revolution. I hope one day they invent some sort of super sperm cocktail so I can shoot thicc rope with giant big brain sperm like tadpoles that come out and shoot 16 feet at 90mph. Then I can train my fatheaded genius kids how to buy calls. It could also offer a self-defense solution in a pinch as you rapid fire tadpoles at any incoming attackers.
Genetics is the future.
I keep putting more money into ARKG and making more money and I'm starting to actually fall in love with the genetics revolution. I hope one day they invent some sort of super sperm cocktail so I can shoot thicc rope with giant big brain sperm like tadpoles that come out and shoot 16 feet at 90mph. Then I can train my fatheaded genius kids how to buy calls. It could also offer a self-defense solution in a pinch as you rapid fire tadpoles at any incoming attackers.
Genetics is the future.
What happened to this ad? :(