CURSED

The stock Gods laugh at me, while they beset CLOWNISH losses upon my person. I will remind you that I had XIV at $100 and watched in horror as it dove to $3 in the after-hours, only to be told by James Cramer that I was an idiot for not reading the prospectus.

Last week I played the monkeypox like a champion pro, in and out — to and fro — until the VRAX literally castrated me amidst 15 trading halts in an eye-bending 80% single day decline. I sold it earlier this week ONLY for a 45% loss.

The Devil called me up and offered me a stock tip, which I lost 20% in a matter of hours.

And today I was sitting fat at 15% weighted LABD, enjoying the scenery — sipppppping on some chardonnay whilst painting a pretty picture when The Pfizer Corporation decided it’d be best to announce a fucking takeover of GBT at a 50% premium causing a tidal wave of shit to wipe me and my chardonnay the fuck out — sending me down the river with losses largess.

I closed the day DOWN 3% in one of the most obscene and humiliating sessions I’ve had in centuries.

My trading is on display for all of the very lucky and fortunate members of Stocklabs — who subscribe to my service so that they too could be cursed by the stock Gods via proxy. They signed up with good intentions, hoping the illustrious Fly would extricate them from their housing tenements, provide them with enough money to finally get Tiny Tim that leg amputation, only to behold a most horrendous visage in the mirror they gazed into. I can only tell the fine folks of the top hatted nature inside the Pelican Room that I now seek revenge — and have taken it upon myself to withdraw blood from the markets alongside all of the money which has been stolen from me.

I feel enraged and aware of my curse and understand what needs to be done.

“The Fly” is in full crisis mode now — DOWN 10% from the highs — bedraggled by various afflictions and amplified by the many enemies that I keep who gleefully and gayfully find comfort in my disquieted anguish. I promise you this — I shall emerge from this an evil person; but my revenge will be graceful and eloquent. Say goodbye to Mr. Nice Guy and hello to one of my various other alternative personalities, perhaps HORATIO CLAWHAMMER — as I disorder myself back to order.

 

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