I’m out and about — sporting a very rustic look today — bright beige chinos with dark beige sweater — gray stripes. If you should see me and approach me for an autograph, I will punch your jaw loose.
My TUFN and DAVA trades are working exactly as planned. Early this morning a lad named “Index Joe” decided to take profits on these calls I made last week. This of course was a cowardly course of action and he was chastised thricely over it.
While these types of transgressions might’ve been glossed over or ignored when I was a union man — I shall not turn my cheeks and shy away from these sins in the future, once settled below the Mason Dixon. I think you should all know about that and how this blog might change, quite dramatically actually, in the not too distant future.
I will not be trading today — but I will be popping in Exodus from time to time.
This is BIG news from Trump, an attempt to kill Iran.
“President Donald J. Trump has decided not to reissue Significant Reduction Exceptions (SREs) when they expire in early May,” the White House said in a statement. “This decision is intended to bring Iran’s oil exports to zero, denying the regime its principal source of revenue.”
Brent is encroaching on $74, WTI $66. I see futures are down 100 — but from my vantage point this spike in oil supersedes any weakness the market might endure early on. I’d be a buyer of dips and an aggressive holder of crude stocks here.
I started off my day listening to Old Town Road and cooking some panned cakes in our hotel room. Shortly thereafter we visited the communities worth visiting and found them to be particularly non-southern — mostly Indian and Chinese in on H1-B visas — and I was pleased with this fact, not because I’m race hating on myself and the southern gents — but I’ve found my Asian friends to be disciplined and truth is born and enjoyed through said discipline.
Since it was Easter, we felt it’d be necessary to visit Church — but I didn’t get around to any of that. Instead I stumbled upon a fine neighborhood with a little shopping center — the most quaint place one could possible imagine living. I ate an avocado toast, fashioned myself a hipster, and enjoyed the southern climes.
By the way, it should be noted, I was adorned with a lambs wool sweater, glistening and feathering in the wind — topped with a hedge fund prick vest and dark shades. Don’t try to look into my eyes — fucker — it won’t work.
One side note on the area, I was pleasantly surprised to see alcohol splayed everywhere I went. Back in Princeton, it’s still a fucking dry town and the grocery stores aren’t permitted to sell spirits. Here, the local Whole Foods has a fucking beer draught station, which could be purchased for just $3 per glass on Thursdays, $5 every other day — getting drunk the entire time shopping. I made a funny at the lady who instructed me of their vagrancy, “Oh, yeah, I can just drink a few of these, go shopping, grab a growler to go, and then hop in the car and VROOM VROOM.”
My joke did not have the effect I desired.
Later on we went to Raleigh and there I got to enjoy some of the true historical confederate nonsense — statues and people of an extremely low caliber. My lambs wool sweater was fluttering in the wind, intimidating all of the manlets who felt it necessary to wear baseball hats and disgusting beards.
Now I’m back in the hotel and I’m eating ham and gruyere with champagne and readying to watch Games of Thrones and thinking about tomorrow and how I have zero interest in trading, but instead visiting local museums and absorbing the culture and judging it harshly for what it is and isn’t.
We’re in the midst of a total Exodus rebuild. Upon relaunch, FREE TRIALS will be eliminated, we’ll be focused on growing the platform, and prices will be going higher — I promise you that. To escape these horrible digital deaths, I strongly advise you to do several things now.
#1: Take a free trial this Easter Bunny Sunday and partake in the grandeur of the platform during the coming trading week.
#2: When said free trial is up, join the league of gentlemen and grandfather in your miserly prices. I know you’ve heard corny sales pitches before, such as “cheaper than a bowl of grits and half dozen egg breakfast” before — but it’s true.
Let me put it to you this way. Our annual rate is $499, or $42 per month. If you cannot extract value from me to match 42 fucking dollars per month — I might as well toss myself into a lit fireplace and get it over with now.
I AM A FUCKING MASTER in all things pertaining to high finance, a literal encyclopedia and depository of knowledge in all things, especially stocks and trading, an artisan sculptor of portfolios, and all around really great guy. Believe me, all of my best friends tell me this all the time.
Happy Easter — off to raze these southern fields with my style and panache.
My cashmere sweater didn’t have the desired effect I had intended. We started off the day in a very popular French bakery for some coffee and sandwiches. They quite honestly had some of the best bread I’ve ever had — a very busy and bustling place. We were seated outdoors — because I had my coyote with me and she was very angry — energetically growling and snarling at the nice southern gentry who took the opportune to acknowledge her grace and presence. Lucky for them I had an awfully tight grip on her metal leash, otherwise she’d snap their fingers clean off their inquisitive hands.
We then took upon the neighborhoods of Cary and found them to be of an advanced cookie cutter varietal. There is an artistic quality to them — but most are bereft of any meaningful amount of property — since land is valuable here — not in the sense per square foot in the real estate market — but in much needed demand for fuckheaded contractors who keep slapping up new communities for Yankee transplants.
Later on I visited the UNC campus at Chapel Hill and my dog took a gigantic dump in front of the old library. It’s a fine campus and my wife made sure to buy a plethora of meaningless garb. I, myself, only bought a shot glass — since I collect them wherever I go.
We then went to Duke University, since my son might want to get his graduate degree there. It reminds me very much of Princeton University with its gothic architecture and obnoxious symbolism. We dined in Durham, just across the street from an old masonic temple, and everyone was overly pleasant, but I didn’t notice any heavy southern fried chicken accents or handlebar mustaches, which was disappointing. I expected more south in this Northern part of Carolina; but it seems everyone here is from up north — regular fuckheads who drive their cars like imbeciles and do not even eat grits in the morning. There are far more Southerners up north in Virginia, even in Pennsylvania than out here. Again, disappointing.
Tomorrow is easter, so we have some dining arrangements and I’ll be heading out towards Winston-Salem too, in search of southern gentry. My sweater was supposed to instill fear today — but it didn’t because no one even noticed what was going on. There is very little time and occasion for pageantry, as it seems the people from here just toil and drive their cars as violently as possible. There isn’t even a Main Street and I haven’t spied a single sidewalk in Cary.
Tomorrow I intend to wear my hedge fund styled vest with a Brooks Brother button down — very northeast prick attire. I have zero expectations of intimidating the folk down here, as it seems to me they’re all too stupid to understand what’s before them — so stupid I doubt most of these people know they’re alive.
It took me 11 hours to get here and oddly enough — it wasn’t really torturous. I got fucked in DC around 3 and was stuck in traffic in the rain. There was a group of, I don’t know, 10,000 Mexicans protesting something and they really fucked up my alternative route flow. I hope Trump sent them all back to Mexico. That shit really pissed me off.
When I got down to Richmond, I went to Mission BBQ — my favorite place for brisket and green beans. I ate an absurd amount of food and side dishes and didn’t even feel full afterwards. I’m here with my dogs, so I sat outside during a little drizzle eating meat after meat after meat — like an absolute barrel-ass.
While driving to Raleigh the fucking rain started to come down in sheets, so bad I had to put my hazards on and drive like an old man.Truck drivers were flashing their lights into my car, telling me to fuck off and get out of the way. I wanted to kill them.
Then I noticed my car was handling poorly and I felt like I was rolling on Flintstone rocks. I checked the PSI on my tires and they were motherfucking 55. I normally keep them at 35, like any normal human being. I had just took my car out from the shop for a routine oil change and I can only guess that the fucking geniuses in there filled up my tires without actually checking for PSI. I am going to skin them alive when I get back.
It should be noted, I am in a nice suite with a full kitchen and wonderful amenities — dark gray rugs, charcoal couches, white walls, flat teevees, several neatly made beds, and a stainless steel fridge — already stocked with champagne. Tomorrow I intend to make my debut in the south, even though I’ve been here before, donning my cashmere cardigan. The very site of this sweater will shock the southern folk here into a panicked retreat and submission. The idea that someone could cavort amongst them in a sweater of this magnitude and grandeur will assuredly put them into an immediate subordinate position.
Why do you fuckers argue with each other about politics? Just a few years ago when I made the grave mistake of delving into politics, driving traffic at the site to all time fresh record highs. Our Alexa ranking soared to 5,000 — ad revenues tripled, and I was miserable. I know it has said before, but never again. I might have to start banning you fuckers for talking about politics in the comments section.
Last night I ate a hammed burger with cheese and some grilled potatoes, very heavily salted and lightly peppered. This morning I intend to whip up some Frenched toast, drizzled with real maple’d syrup — not that Aunt Jemima horseshit. By this time tomorrow, I expect to be eating grits and chitlins for breakfast, as I whip my waiter into shape and inform them of the preferences of their northern masters.
I’ll be driving 8 hours down to Raleigh soon and it’ll be the longest drive of my illustrious career. When I first started driving, I was a complete faggot — couldn’t go more than 2-3 hours at a clip. Since I enjoyed traveling up north into the New England region of America, I’d plan my trips to be dotted with hotel stays along the way. Every 2-3 hours I’d rest and take up residency in a hotel — extending trips much longer than needed. Nowadays I can drive a solid 5 hours before seeing double and wanted to keel over and die due to boredom. Sometimes I’ll blast really bad rap music in the car, just to draw a negative response from Mrs. Fly, in order to keep the drive lively. But today I’ll do 8-9 hours straight — like a robot. I’ll likely stop in Richmond, cavort with other southern gentlemen and whip them into shape too, asking quite aggressively where I might find some good BBQ and corned bread.
I’ll take my laptop with me and I’ll be sure to inform ya’ll about my southern adventures over the next few days.
Oh, in case any of you FUCKERS intend to burglar my home when I’m away, just know a good friend of mine is staying over while I’m gone and he’s armed with a machine gun and grenades. Plus he’s a black belt in karate and bench presses 400lbs.
What a glorious day. Booked 12% in VIOT, +7% in RIOT, then strolled into DAVA and made instant gains. Fuck you and all of your pretend greatness — I practice this in real time here daily — been doing it since 2007.
Over this long weekend, Le Fly intends to mosey down to the south, in search of a home, in order to execute upon his plan at becoming a southern gentleman of extreme proportions. I do not mean that in the girth sense, as I am anything but a barrel ass. However, I intend to extend my alpha dominance south of the Mason Dixon — grow crops amongst other distinguished gents, and smoke my pipe lazily into the hazy late summer afternoon, whilst sipping copious amount of sweet tea.
The only other stocks that I bought today was PD — looks great — really do not see how I can lose. I know this comes across like I’m the only person in America who is making money in the stock market. I get it — everyone is making money; but I am simply making more.
What an interesting week, bookended by the Notre Dame burning and the Mueller report causing a psychosis in the millions of people who were praying upon the altar of misdirection for a resolution to finally, and once and for all, deal with Donald J. Trump. He has his purpose. We all do. Sadly, yours, and to a great extent, my own, is to hate one another.
This is to document human stupidity. This wasn’t algos or some quant with a fat finger. This is a fat headed fool buying ZOOM on the grey market instead of ZM — because the name of the company is Zoom. God damned these people — fuck off.
Looks like the stock rampaged higher by 130%, before collapsing after buyers found out they were in the wrong stock. Taking a gander on Twitter, I see plenty of people confusing the ticker. Let’s document them now, shall we?
I often think about life and wished it was more like trading. Unhappy with job, house, friends? — swap them out for something more appealing — immediately. No need to fuck off and sit around with bad friends, or for some of you unhappy with your spouses — NO NEED FOR THAT EITHER. In my perfect world, we’d just trade them out, like a stock, and move on towards greener pastures.
I’ll be selling my house soon and that’s a fucking headache of monstrous proportions. It’d be nice to just trade this house on the spot for something down south. Wasn’t the blockchain supposed to do this shit for us — record transactions and cut out the middle men? Why can’t I used the god damned blockchain?
Markets are doing much better than I had expected and I had a stock up sharply, VIOT, so I sold it for +12% and with the proceeds I bought DAVA.