RUN FOR THEM HILLS

Markets are plunging lower, based off a rout in bonds(lolz). You stupid shits. Yields were negative and have moved away from profoundly absurd to somewhat less absurd yields and everyone is getting all worked up about liquidity. What this is about, frankly, is June swoon. Executive, C-level persons of distinguishable honor, are sleeping in, unfettered by any move in the broader indices. Understand something, these men of industry only concern themselves in the now and do not care about planning past this evening’s cocaine encrusted chicken breast.

For a -100+ day, Le Fly is wading through the mud quite well. I am certain you were hoping to bear witness to me venting in despair; but you’re wrong, yet again.

This is the year of “The Fly”, nothing can go wrong, as I am destined to live a charmed life, unaffected by all of the turmoil and angst around me.

HERETO: markets will fluctuate between distinguishable ranges for the duration of 2015. Know your craft and study it well, for the summer month’s are upon you and if you’re not careful, you will most certainly blow yourselves to smithereens.

Most of you have no idea what this is about. You simply don’t believe in the impenetrable armies of Exodus and feel that Le Fly is simply being a salesman, “trying to sell subscriptions.” Listen to me: I have my own money and don’t need yours. I do this for the people and priced it to scale. I can confidently say that there is nothing better than Exodus available to you at a retail level, priced like a month’s worth of cereal boxes.

This is what I want you to do (you know me awhile now and know that I rarely demand things from you): sign up for a monthly membership and email me at [email protected] and I will dispatch one of my partners to do a live one on one demo for you. Who else does that? No one.

Here are ALL systemwide OVERSOLD signals dating back to October. Inception to date (2008-), the system is running at an 80% accuracy rate, to the fucking day.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Ypvn3kbY6-o

None of this makes much sense, since a Greek exit from the Euro should mean greater demand for US bonds. Nevertheless, bonds, worldwide, are getting the meat cleaver taken to their fucking faces. This dislocation is causing stocks to get “Simple Jack’d”. No one really knows what the fuck is going on. Late day sell offs should always be viewed as a harbinger of doom.

Get your affairs in order.

This shit will sort itself out. But the Lords of Finance are about to summer, exercising their EXECUTIVE PRIVILEGE over decadently plated panko encrusted salmon.

You’d think “The Fly” would give a shit, being that he likes money and all. But he doesn’t. As a matter of fact, being +28% for the year has him feeling uneasy. I perform best when dangling off the bottom of a roller coaster seat, as it whips through loops and kills everyone else riding it.

For the day, I kicked out most of my largest position (FEYE) and added to HDP, while starting a new position in VNDA.

Off to the gym.

First prize is you’re fired.

Second prize is you’re fired.

Any questions?

I added to my HDP position.

My foray into horsemen and revenge trading, and things of that nature, have ended.  I no longer desire it. With the markets up 140, I felt like mixing it up a bit, delving back into my pharmaceutical addiction in search for a euphoric utopia.

I bought VNDA.

I don’t waste a lot of ink on my signature. I find that women enjoy to scribble their entire names, in a legible fashion, whilst men just sort of caveman that shit and give zero fucks whether you could read it or not. This topic, as well as many others, are “serious debate” issues at House Fly. I feel, as a member of a class of people who are interested in seeing the planet’s annihilation, that wasting ink on a simple signature, whether it be on a declaration of war or surrender,  is gratuitous and represents everything that is wrong in the world today.

I know you see the futures higher and ponder about “this crazy man on the blog talking about ink”, also wondering when I will begin to rant and rave about shorts being idly tossed into garbage compactors and recycled back into the matrix. I will not, as a point in fact.

Le Fly hates all people, equally, some more equal than others (extra Animal Farm). It’s sad that so many of you never pick up on my literary references. You choose to live moribund lives, transfixed on the goggle box, wasting away without any semblance of dignity or decorum.

In this finite life time of yours, you have so many things to do, most of which do not entail spending inordinate amounts of money. Instead of evolving, you continue to devolve, animalistically,  into wanton degeneracy. I am just one man, a glimmer of hope in a dark, cruel, sea of hopelessness.

Thank God for Orbital Space Cannons (OSC) and mass extinction events. Let the markets run free and bestow its gifts upon the initiated and breathe the fires of hell unto those of you running about the park clad in burlap, adult sized, onesies.

When I blogged my last note, if that’s what I’m calling them these days, the market topped for the day. I was feeling my oats, kicking older men down urinal shafts and into pits filled with alligators. Shortly thereafter, markets slid and then slid some more. Sure, I still managed to make 0.15% for the day; but I did so in a very depressing manner.

Biotech worked well today and my position in SGEN is ballooning higher in valuation, as Baker Bros work towards world domination. But what is it all for, I ponder? Am I to simply sit out the rest of my days behind a hot computer, hoping for the Federal Reserve to be accommodative for me?

YOU’RE DAMN FUCKING RIGHT I AM! That’s exactly what I intend to do, and more.

While you goose stepping Nazis short the spyders, “The Fly” was building dick guillotines, designed to remove you from your anatomy at an industrial rate. Very soon, all of you will be tossed into it and speed chopped, like carrots, in order to remove your DNA from the population. We cannot risk your DNA going any further, lads. Enjoy our precisions ginsu blade on our Chopper 3000.

At the end of the day, you and I are just shooting the breeze. One of us lives a charmed life, the other– not so much. One of us is afforded all the luxuries life has to offer, the other is getting shot at 9pm in front of his neighborhood bodega. We all have roles to play and I intend to play mine to its maximum potential.

I am a fucking Space Alien Magician (SAM) speeding through time in a fucking time machine, destined for the sun with a vehicle made from dynamite sticks. Anything you say to me, ultimately, will only blow up in your ugly faces.

Good day.

NOTE: Come join us in NYC this October for the 2nd Annual iBC Investors Conference and VIP party.

I just got done eating a gourmet lunch of peanut butter and jam, off a single slice of bread. I’ve had so much coffee today, my heart stopped three times. I had to punch my chest in to get it kicking again, old school (extra Atari). None of that shit stopped me from sticking the pins into your head (extra Pennydreadful) for betting against the cabal.

Listen to me: I am up another 0.8% today, bowling, straight up bowling on you pinheads. The market acted like it wanted to trade sideways earlier, then it rose up from the ground (extra Night’s King) and then proceeded to eat the skulls of these bozos in our way.

My motherfucking 4 horsemen are not to be fucked with: FEYE, AGIO, CYBR and N.

Just know, I’m building a position in ZFGN, long the fat man eating cheesed doodles in his basement.

Now go away.

As you can see by the erratic  movement in NASDAQ  futures over the past few hours, EXECUTIVE PRIVILEGE has taken hold of the market.

Our C-level execs are too busy eating foie gras, getting their bell helicopters waxed, than to concern themselves with the likes of you–in the pits of stock market hell working through volatility. Very soon, liquidity will shrivel up and fall off, like Bruce Jenner’s penis, as these men of industry put the finishing touches on their harems and impose a ‘calm normality’ over their summer homes of wanton vagrant degeneracy.

If the world was just, fucking Samurais armed with axes would slice these men in half, burn their harems to the ground, and then take their money to send the Dow Jones to 30,000.

In the meantime, watch your p’s and q’s and always be on the look out for an unsolicited clown rape.

I concede that today was an abysmal day, despite the indices being up. My convictions are not mine alone, lads. These are the wishes of all the Kings and Leaders of the free world–to see equity prices higher.

For you, a rag-tag group of vagabond stock traders, to bet against this powerful cabal is comical and entertaining for all the world to laugh at. None of you can be considered “serious men.” Because, by definition, “serious men” cast aside emotions that handicap them from achieving greatness. The lot of you are simply loafers, stoned during the day, drunk at night.

Leave investing to the “serious men”, people who understand that the winds are blowing, decidedly, from the west (extra Dickens).