Eagerly Awaiting Accounting Irregularities

I added to both BITA and DSKY.

Nothing can stop the market, not even death.

All of the gloom from 15 minutes is gone, like a fucking whisper in the wind on a cold winter night. A new era of hedonistic perversion, which has stalked the market for many weeks, is now here, lying down on your sofa–eating grapes, watching television.

Stocks are back on the way higher again and all of the people who just sold, small infants with weak intestinal fortitude, will be forced, BY LAW, to buy back in.

When you bet against stocks you make yourselves to be slack-jawed apes.

Indeud.

What should we do here, lads? The fucking market is melting down. I am off by 0.7% and things are getting worse.

Should I…

a. Fuck off and eat a sandwich?

b. Fuck off and buy more?

c. Fuck off and sell it all?

or d. Fuck off?

I eagerly await your opinions.

Remember back in January when I was buying oil, SLCA under $25, and told you the seasonal trends were forever in our favor? Well, most of you spit at me, like camels, siding with Dennis Gartman’s brain-dead philosophy that dictated oil was heading back to pre-industrial era pricing of a nickel per barrel. Here we are with Q1 in the books and you’re all slobbering over yourselves, trying to get back into oil.

Let’s not be reactionary, ok? Have a look at the season trends again, courtesy of Exodus.

Even an infant can see that oil is a highly seasonal commodity, pertaining to the performance of equities. Do yourselves a favor and avoid it for now. That doesn’t mean to short it or wait for a dip to buy it. That means avoid it. Do you hear me, fuckheads?

Moving on, markets should trade higher today. The weather is a bit gloomy and Blustar is a bit doomy; but the Sun Also Rises and before you know it, speculative fervor will be back in the tape, pushing halfway retarded, dim-witted, money managers back into the fray–chasing performance. It is my belief there is vast under-investment in this country, particularly with persons under 35 years old.

Let’s see how the market responds by 10am before making wild assumptions.

The month of May is a very somber one for the drug addicts in the financial services business. It’s bitter-sweet, actually. It marks the period of the year when you actively cheat on your spouses, run about the Hamptons with cocaine in your noses, and drink yourselves into a coma. On the other hand, you also get smoked in the stocked market.

You’ve managed to stumble over so much cash these past 10 years that performance no longer matters. Your lives are absolutely meaningless, literally. You are devoid of culture, pride, and most of all: decorum.

May 10,000 snakes descend upon you and bite your faces off.

As for me, I am readily toiling away, like a commoner, only with a 155 IQ.

Stocks sold off today, so everyone is crazy in the face. Not me. “The Fly” is a stone forrest of resolve, one that is prepared by the laws of nature to withstand any idiotic barrage set forth upon his domain.

As I write to you, the market is off by 0.2%. Frankly, this sharp a drop concerns me. It doesn’t worry me for the obvious massive capital loss reasons. I fear for the well being of my broker/advisor peers. This is not the sort of tape to snore at, in between naps and snacks. This is the type of tape that one pulls out hair, punches oneself in the gut, then liquidates all of his holdings–goes home, files for divorce, and then spends the net 50 years pushing a shopping cart aimlessly around town.

I am curious, sincerely, how are you dealing with today’s meltdown?

Fuck you. You can’t tell me what to do. I intend on punishing my family this summer by working through the scalding hot temperatures without pause (no homo)–like a runaway machine with uncontrollable AI. While the lot of you prance about in your fucking capris halfway across Europe, “The Fly” will be fortifying his kingdom. Rest assured, a great plague, a famine and pestilence, is coming. These are the times to batten down the hatches and work, not idle oneself with reckless stupidity.

I know, you have a cruise booked in July. You want to travel by boat and throw up into the sea from a severe case of salmonella poisoning.

Look you, I don’t have time for your shit. Get your things in order, or leave the site. We don’t need lazy readers like you, lounging about the lobby like lizards in the sun. We encourage strong thinkers and aggressive entrepreneurs, persons of interest.

While the market might be a bit flaccid today, like some of your penii, JANUS IS STRONG LIKE BILL GROSS’S HEAD.

Winners win and losers lose.

I sold CENX because a loser is a loser. With the proceeds, I averaged up in AGIO–because they have a cure for cancer. Yeah, man, they totally have a cure for cancer (cough, cough).

First of all, my fucking super-duper expensive apple laptop is slow as shit. My son has been playing minecraft on it and all of a sudden it’s basically a useless piece of plastic.

Its been awhile since I’ve given a general update. With q1 in the books, “The Fly” living large, up 16% year-to-date, I’m gonna school you now and let you know some of my top ideas.

Gone are the days when I’ve relied on disgusting hamburgers and retarded helmet cameras to make a living. Life is too short to buy stocks like that in any size.

These are my largest positions. They are my largest because they are the best. They are the best, not because they make the most money or because people like them the most. They are the best because I said they are.

JNS

SAVE

BABA

GTN

BITA

AAPL

SGEN

GRUB

BX

BID

On the biotech side, I am long a pastiche of potentially mega-blockbuster drug companies: AGIO, ICPT, SGEN, JAZZ.

Listen to me: narcolepsy is real. Lots of lazy yam eaters napping during the day, fucking up productivity. JAZZ is gonna solve that issue and keep fuckers awake. Just when you thought it was safe to nap, JAZZ PHARMACEUTICAL steps into the fray and slaps the shit out of you with their new drug, yelling “WAKE UP SON; TIME TO GET BACK TO WORK, BITCH.”

I’ve been meaning to get that off my chest for a while.

I woke up to sheer nonsense this morning and that trend seemed to carry on through the day. Ludicrous plans were set in front of me, ideas that resembled nonsensical rabble–concocted by a crazy person. Normally, I fight lunacy tooth and nail. But, today, for whatever reason, I acquiesced.

I ended up driving Mrs. Fly & co. to the beach, knowing full well that the beach is an insane idea at 60 degrees inland, which translates to 45-50 degrees near the water. Mind you, the beach wasn’t for any human being–but for the fucking dog. I periscoped three videos of me walking the dog into the frigid waters. My day ended up at some greasy spoon eatery, where I shoveled greasy shit into my mouth, all the while double parked in my $85k vehicle.

Sometimes it’s important to allow people to make idiotic mistakes, in order to ensure dominance in the affairs of scheduling. Unfortunately for me, this will never happen and I can never cede control of the calendar. The struggle, gentlemen, is real.

So now I am back in my home office, perusing emails and getting ready for the final batch of Exodus beta trial invites. I have big plans for Exodus. Like I said, we’ve assembled a sales team to pursue RIAs and wealth managers. Any and all referrals are welcomed. Hit me up at [email protected].

Moving on, I am electing to eat nothing but greek yogurt for the next 16 hours, after today’s “meal.” My dog smells like a fucking sea monster and I have sand in my socks.

FML

Markets will go higher this week, because that’s what they do.