What More Do You Want, Ingrates?

For over a week, I’ve told you to get long gold and to raise cash. With my own money, I am in a 50% cash position and my largest holding is GG. The play here, for me, is to time the next inflection point with sublime mathematical precision, allocate all resources, and drive rail spikes into the thick skulls of volcano men. So don’t fucking come here, in search for Le Fly distraught, strung out by his bullish caprices. I will fucking massacre you!

This is an 80% down day and only a handful of stocks are up. The only sector that is up is gold (you’re fucking welcome). Moreover, the only gold stock that is down because of Greece is EGO (buttfuckers).

BEHOLD in the glory of the superfluities of Americana. They, the Americans, cannot help themselves but to exaggerate moves, both bearish and bullish. Born actors, tradesmen, frontier men, the American will lament over microscopic problems and hallucinate during times of moderate success. He will burn cigarette holes into his furniture and burn down his entire house, drunk and strung out, depressed over a temporary loss of capital. In the past, this American would thrust himself from rooftops, as an antidote for loss of capital. Now he takes heavy doses of psychotropics and fires off shells into crowded movie theaters.

I beam with pride and overjoyous feelings of jubilation when I think about my fortune, being born into this Americana.