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Holy shit Kim Kardashian is about to be single. I've waited so long for this moment. This is my chance, my opportunity. God is real. I should chill with the god talk because she's probably over that stuff but im fucking hyped. I am going to shoot my shot. I am not black so my chances are less but I have been doing push ups, eating vitamins and controlling my jacking off.

So many arrogant fucks here love talking fundamental analysis when they can't even tell me if lil’ Yachty got another Ferrari much less how stuffed the fucking Oreos are now. Fucking clowns, all of them. Shut the fuck up and do your trades. If you really need a valuation multiple you can't even derive to tell you whether you should buy a stock or not, you deserve CHGG. Newsflash, the stock market never made sense nor will it. Best you can do is trade gourd futures you know about and feel with your hands that it hasn't been spotted by any number of fungal pathogens in the complex ecology of modern supply chains. Or alternatively manipulate markets like the rich investors who funnel you into silver every fucking time like clockwork. Warren Buffet's dad was Paul Revere, if you think that shit didn't help The Wizard of Omaha then not only are you retarded but also delusional. Now stfu about EBITDA and long term debt-to-equity ratios. If you actually knew what the fuck was going to happen you'd be chilling in r/lounge with a fat chick, not on wsb posting "anyone basing trades right now on technical analysis is fucking tool.”

The Battle of Gamestop rages on. Pre-market we could hear the bears in no-man’s land, baiting us towards higher prices so the shorts could do their dirty work. I was stationed at the 13.80 line, and knew the morning was going to be hot. I shoveled a breakfast of tendies and said a quick prayer to Father Cohen. When the bell rang, the bears surged into our trenches. Blood and rainbow fur filled the air and littered the ground. The Diamond Division has seen worse days, and we held firm. As the bears retreated we gave chase to retake ground we’d lost in the past week. As I caught my breath near the 14.50, I could see bodies everywhere; paper hands who had fallen in earlier battles. One of them groaned and reached a hand towards me. I spat on him and kept moving. No honor in retreat, and no sympathy for self-inflicted wounds. This war won’t be won in a day, but it will be won. Tell my wife’s boyfriend to tell her I love her.

idk who needs to hear this but regardless of your channel, you need to remove your Pepe emotes. It doesn’t matter what your intent is, the peepee frog causes harm and I will never feel comfortable in your stream with them present.

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.