I was warned many times about pressing my luck into the month of December. I do believe I even warned myself back in November. But the stupid child in me wanted to believe in fanciful things, praying for Santa Claus to bring me great gifts of joy because I was a good boy in 2023. I went online an professed this belief — was called names in the comments section, such as, but not limited to, “you bastard catamite fucker — you have marked thee top Sir.” I ignored these dire warning and pranced about my office waiting for Santa to bring me joy.
As a matter of fact, the very afternoon I pranced away from my terminal to grab a cup of Joe and something sweet. I had loaded up to the gills with all of my favorite stocks. You should’ve seen me out there — face lit up with excitement and wonderment — thinking about the spoils to come. When I returned back with my cup of Joe I was stunned to learned my entire portfolio had COLLAPSED with the fucking market — swooning lower in aggressive, but methodical, fashion. I did nothing but look at it — remembering the halcyon days of last week — pining to do it over again — wanting to get those higher prices back.
I was lower by 150bps and my losses for the week fast approached 4%. The important backdrop in all of this is — my longer term accounts were UP today and UP for the week, which essentially means I’m trading in moronic fashion, the brain of an elf — an NPC robotically drifting through space and time without internal monologue.
In short, you were right and I was wrong and now I do believe I’ve paid for my transgressions and made the ship right — heavily hedged crossed against some volatility longs and betting against the fucking NASDAQ again as if my face were on fire.
This whole ordeal is nothing new, as I have been publicly blogging in one form or another since 2001. I’ve made great calls and some really bad one’s. The way I am able to sell without regret is I punish myself mentally into thinking that I no longer deserve to own it since my timing was wrong.
Inside of my mind, a conversation like this occurs:
“Nice job fucked face. You really made an asshole out of yourself here. You know it’s going lower. Pax American is over.”
Fuck you pal — nothing is over — wait until the closing minutes. We will get it all back, and much more.”
“You will get nothing back and you know it. Sell now or else I’m going to cut your hands off to prevent you from ever trading again.”
“Fine, but fuck you.”
No need to seek therapy when I have one of my own right in my head.
GOOD DAY, down 140bps for the day.
If you enjoy the content at iBankCoin, please follow us on Twitter
I think this blog is a parody. Has to be.
Sarcasm is rarely picked up by low IQ people
Sarcasm is the lowest form of humor, employed consistently by reprobates, and unprincipled men with insecurity.
That’s like just your opinion, man.