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[Copypasta]Don't use the "F word" on the trade floor
Just heard an employee use the “F word” on the trade floor, and immediately fired them. Maybe other funds will tolerate that kind of language, but don’t you dare talk about Fundamentals here.
Just heard an employee use the “F word” on the trade floor, and immediately fired them. Maybe other funds will tolerate that kind of language, but don’t you dare talk about Fundamentals here.
(▀̿Ĺ̯├┬┴┬┴ Psst... kid, you wanna disable adblock?
More WallStreetBets Copypastas
Oh my gourd, I am financially ruined (agricultural futures)
I have lost everything, and I'm not sure how to continue. This summer I invested $17,500 (six months salary and my entire life savings) into ornamental gourd futures, hoping to capitalize on this lucrative emerging industry. After watching a video about Vincent Kosuga and his monopoly on onions, I decided I'd try to do something similar with another vegetable. I did some research and found out many agricultural forecasters expected this year's gourd yield would be far smaller than the past, due to deteriorating soil conditions in central Mexico and a warmer-than-average spring. At first, demand soared around Halloween and prices skyrocketed, but the gourd bubble burst on November 12th. Unfortunately, the coronavirus caused a massive drop-off in demand due to fewer families decorating their tables for thanksgiving, and prices plummeted. I had invested early enough that I thought I would still be fine, but then on the morning of December 2nd, a new email in my inbox caused my stomach to turn into a pretzel. The massive gourd shipment from Argentina, scheduled for early March, had arrived. I was planning on selling off my futures right before this, in February, but this ruined everything. To top it off, the gourds in this shipment were absolutely gargantuan, some topping 4 pounds each, causing the price-per-pound to drop like an anchor into the range of 6 cents per pound. I am ruined.
I have lost everything, and I'm not sure how to continue. This summer I invested $17,500 (six months salary and my entire life savings) into ornamental gourd futures, hoping to capitalize on this lucrative emerging industry. After watching a video about Vincent Kosuga and his monopoly on onions, I decided I'd try to do something similar with another vegetable. I did some research and found out many agricultural forecasters expected this year's gourd yield would be far smaller than the past, due to deteriorating soil conditions in central Mexico and a warmer-than-average spring. At first, demand soared around Halloween and prices skyrocketed, but the gourd bubble burst on November 12th. Unfortunately, the coronavirus caused a massive drop-off in demand due to fewer families decorating their tables for thanksgiving, and prices plummeted. I had invested early enough that I thought I would still be fine, but then on the morning of December 2nd, a new email in my inbox caused my stomach to turn into a pretzel. The massive gourd shipment from Argentina, scheduled for early March, had arrived. I was planning on selling off my futures right before this, in February, but this ruined everything. To top it off, the gourds in this shipment were absolutely gargantuan, some topping 4 pounds each, causing the price-per-pound to drop like an anchor into the range of 6 cents per pound. I am ruined.
Apple announces an EV program
Oh boy I can't wait until 2024 when I can wake up to my Apple Homepod Siri alarm and check my Apple Watch for notifications and take a shower in my Apple Big Douche then put my makeup on before work in my Apple Mirror then take my Apple Car to my job at Apple Phone Plant #584 so I can work on my Mac Pro workstation designing the latest Apple Product the iShit smart toilet that syncs with your iAsshole to sense when you have a massive log brewing in my large intestine and sends me a notification to my apple colonoscopy bag. Russian hackers will know what I had for dinner.
Oh boy I can't wait until 2024 when I can wake up to my Apple Homepod Siri alarm and check my Apple Watch for notifications and take a shower in my Apple Big Douche then put my makeup on before work in my Apple Mirror then take my Apple Car to my job at Apple Phone Plant #584 so I can work on my Mac Pro workstation designing the latest Apple Product the iShit smart toilet that syncs with your iAsshole to sense when you have a massive log brewing in my large intestine and sends me a notification to my apple colonoscopy bag. Russian hackers will know what I had for dinner.
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."
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.
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.