THIS JUST IN: $JMIA IS A FRAUD!

Andrew Left from Citron Research has crawled out from his crypt to deliver this all important, self serving message.

JMIA IS A FRAUD!!!!

What the fuck is going on here? Left is a Alex Jones of finance, without question. But what on God’s earth is this video all about? What’s up with that fucking suit?

You’ve been warned! Consider yourselves on notice.

Markets are popping — but yields are plunging again and crude is weak. There’s a lot of false optimism out there — men clad in fanciful clothing — buying up stocks because they’re in a good fancy fucking mood. Well, I’m in a dour mood and I don’t like fancy clothing either. Truth is, I haven’t bothered to send my fancy fucking clothes in for dry cleaning in months, instead opting for black t shirts and ordinary pants. I dress like a janitor these days and couldn’t give two fucks about it.

Do you think I’m going to buy stocks into a Chinese trade war? The guy dressed like a janitor in a dour mood doesn’t do that. He instead waits in the tall grass with this hot mop — waiting to slap the shit out of someone.

I’m making coin today — long CRON, LK, SILK and my Quant is up 65bps. Heck, even my DRIP is higher. But I’m not in DRIP for a mere 25%. I am in it for the glory and for final victory. To accomplish these lofty goals, I’ll need to dispirit the last bull — the guy who buys dips as a matter of practice because it has served him so well over the years. We want those old habits to die hard and with it — his entire brokerage account. Zeroed the fuck out.

What hatred. What unrivaled anger!

Fuck off.

I’ve been letting my dogs run loose in the yard the past few months. The way I figure, why should I have to walk these dogs when they could go walk themselves? Granted, they’ll defecate on the yard and kill a few birds — but the yard is big enough and there are plenty of birds. Just the other day I saw my coyote raid a nest and kill a bird. It was quite mortifying, so I interrupted her by spraying my water hose at her.

We’re going down the home stretch with the house now and hopefully we’ll field a few offers and accept and then get the hell out of here. I’ve become impatient with the whole process — because the logistics of the move looms. At House Fly, nothing gets done in an organized way without my direct assistance. The idea of moving all of this furniture seems beyond stupid. I’d rather junk it then move it — 7 years of nonsense collected through various boutiques and stores has resulted in clutter and nothing all that meaningful.

Are you the type to buy 10 things for $50 or 1 really good thing for $500?

The 10yr is down 3bps this morning to 2.29%. I see futures are mildly higher — but stocks will drop if the bond market keeps surging like this. There is a risk off vibe to the recent China trade war news. Couple that with the seasonal risk off mood and there’s a strong chance we’ll continue lower.

*** TRY Exodus FREE FOR 7 DAYS ***

Vacation plans have been made for every single successful hedge fund manager in America. The market has done wonderfully thus far, so everyone can relax and enjoy their summers from Newport to St.Bart’s. The keys to the trading turret will be subsequently turned over to junior to mind the store, while senior is out doing lines of blow and jet skiing whilst passed out drunk. Junior’s number 1 job will be to not fuck anything up, but he always does. Expect volatility to shrink to a crawl, unless of course President Trump opts of ratchet up his great big beautiful trade war.

Seasonally, these are dry austere months. Do not expect anything exciting until your local hedge fund managers comes back from his fall vacation in the Berkshires.

If you’ve been keeping track like I have, semis have been fucking poleaxed beyond belief over the past month. Intel, for God’s sake, is down 25% over the past 4 weeks and the leading industries are, more or less, retarded.

This is what we’re going to do. Listen to me very closely. We’re going to short stocks heavily and lean on them until they topple over. The Exodus algorithms now reflect the extreme stress levels of Oct-Dec 2018 and will be incredibly useful to assess a potential pivot points for stocks. Until then, I’d argue you should raise cash, hedge your long term portfolios, and start enjoying the warmer climes.

Oil is on the verge of spilling over and soiling markets, quite horrible. At the same time, crypto-fags are running absolutely rampant, naked even, throughout the streets. It’s a fucking zoo out there, believe me. What is BTC up another 7% tonight? That fucker is clearing its way towards 9,000. I can almost guarantee BTC will be hitting record highs soon. My pick is ELF coin.

On the matter of GDP, according to JP Morgan, it’s going to be milquetoast.

J.P. Morgan economists slash their outlook for second-quarter growth to just 1% from a previous 2.25%.

The economists also change their view that the Fed’s next move was an interest rate hike, and now believe it has an equal chance of cutting or raising rates.

The two threats to U.S. growth are global economic developments and the uncertainty of the trade war impacting business sentiment and activity.

Markets aren’t pricing in 1% GDP growth. We’ll need stocks to drop 20% from present values to accommodate such shit-tiered growth.

I just got back from a long day at Duke Farms — where I bicycled and suffered, immeasurably, under the pollen and the flowers seeping into my skin. I could barely breathe after an hour or so, but I’m stronger for it. I had a cheeseburger sandwich and now sitting down about to drink a large fucking mug filled with coffee.

Good day to you.

My allergies are middling this morning and my appetite is virtually non-existent. When you fast, good and hard, and for a cause — the idea of ingesting food becomes a secondary matter and only an issue of nourishment. If I could simply pop a pill that gave me 2,500 calories and vitamins, I’d be fine with that. Hopefully, sometime in that not-too-distant dystopian future, we can enjoy such pills.

The dogs are barking and the sun is baking my array of fanciful flowers in the yard. I don’t believe there is a lot of toil planned for the day. Perhaps we might venture out into the world and go for a sojourn, maybe even a bicycle ride. Even though it’s hell on earth hot outside, Le Fly will not be wearing shorts, and never will wear shorts — because gentlemen do not wear shorts. I know what you’ll say — “gotta do more squats fuckface, yada yada yada.” No, and wrong. I just don’t wear shorts, period and end of story.

I haven’t thought about the market in several days, and I suppose that’s a good thing. The god damned stock market gives me a headache sometimes. On the topic of Exodus and the re-write, I had a talk with the programmer doing it on Friday and all seems to be going well. Hopefully we can offer it for retail by late summer, perhaps sooner. We’re adding new bells and whistles, faster data, and a much longer cock.

Off to take my 2,500 calorie pill and into the showers to sterilize myself from a long night’s rest.

My incorrigible birthday has ended and I am now permitted, by extension of a full day’s efforts at the house, to have a single beer. Through the day, on my 43rd birthday, I scrubbed baseboards and crown molding — positioned myself atop very tall ladders and fought back my phobia of heights and scrubbed some more. I am happy to report, the browning at the top of my vaulted ceilings have been eradicated and with it our homeless man aesthetic.

It was a very busy day at House Fly, one marked by toil and extreme fasting. After my large bowl of sugary cereal, I didn’t have an opportune to indulge myself in caloric intake until late at night — in a visit to a place called “Tacoria” in Princeton. It was quite delicious — and I was even permitted to refill my glass with an extra serving of linomade. I was allowed to do this, not because it was my birthday — but because it was store policy. Nevertheless, I felt quite special having been given this opportune to quench my thirst at such a rapid and capricious rate.

The realtor had a photographer come over today and snap photos of the house — and I’m not sure the photographer had a single idea what he was doing — but the show must go on. Starting tomorrow, there is a major project being planned to “thin out” the closets, in order to make them more presentable. It’s important to do a good job all the time and never to slack or rest — for those are qualities of the devil and the devil is evil and evil is bad and bad is just bad.

My throat burns from all of the chemicals I’ve been inhaling throughout the day — but I am told it will pass and that I should remedy this affliction with high doses of store bought pharmaceuticals.

I’m sipping my last beer now — because that’s all that was left in the fridge. I don’t think it’d be prudent to crack open a bottle of whiskey — because that might delay my early rise tomorrow and disrupt productivity. We didn’t bother with birthday cakes this year — because it’s child’s play. The blowing out of candles and blissfully wishing other’s well and joyfully acknowledging a family member’s date of birth is, more or less, outdated and also inconvenient. Efficient love is most effectively expressed through wanton toil and fastidious attention to dusty crevices and aggressively mollifying hardened discord through a job well done.

Off to shower for exactly 13 minutes, followed by 8 hours of middling sleep.

I woke up late today because I partied hard last night — being that today is my 43rd birthday and all. I scrubbed the floors good and hard, re-grouted them to look anew, and removed and replaced several drop down ceiling tiles in the basement. I was afforded the opportune to drink two beers while working, and I managed to cook some dinner on the grill. All was very acceptable.

Today there will be no time for slackers, nor persons of low productivity. First thing to do is to take heavy doses of allergy medicines and Dayquil — this way my body runs efficiently and cannot be interrupted by inconvenient bouts of sneezing. For every time that I sneeze, I could’ve accomplished one mop stroke across my floors.

After I am done with this blog and bowl of cereal, I will immediately wash the walls upstairs. I will wash them good and hard, dry them, and then wash them again — removing any semblance of browning that might exist. Then I will quickly wash the bathroom floors, the one’s that I re-grouted last night, making sure that there isn’t sand or hard pieces of grout left on the floor.

THIS JUST IN: The dogs smell horrible and need to be washed.

In case you’re wondering as to why I am doing these things, let alone on my birthday, it’s because I fired my cleaning crew and also because I’m selling my house.

There isn’t any time for slackers or persons of low productivity.

DO A GOOD JOB — STOP MAKING EXCUSES. DO THE RIGHT THING ALL THE TIME!!!

Off to scrub.

One day ahead of my illustrious birthday, I partook in wanton shopping in and about the area of Princeton today — rummaging throughout the racks of textiles and plastic wares in search of aesthetically pleasing items that might coerce some family to purchase our fine home from us. In between of all the fun consumerism, I sneezed my brains out and itched my head and face until it bled.

As soon as I got home, I took to the yard to breathe in nature and sneeze some more. Then I trimmed the boxwoods and seeded the dry spots of lawn with fast growing grass. In about 20 minutes I will shuffle up to the master bathroom to re-grout the tiles — because excellence breeds excellence and a good house, a really fine house, always needs an effective scullery maid. After I re-grout the tiles and clean the floor thoroughly, I might entreat myself to a bit of BBQ chicken and perhaps a small piece of potato. I’m not supposed to partake in these excursions, since they reduce my efficiency and I’m certainly not useful when not efficient.

Later on this evening, as my birthday nears, I might take a look at a bottle of gin for a few seconds — perhaps even sneak a sniff and wonder what a gimlet tastes like. There is no time for drinking, or anything that could possibly reduce productivity. I will create new cardboard boxes and find things to throw inside of them — then stack them neatly in the garage — which is more or less a giant closet now.

Oh, almost forgot — I will wash the walls with a nice concoction of Comet bleach powder and water. For the master bedroom, ‘where the magic happens’, I will need the assistance of a very tall ladder — since the vaulted ceilings are quite high and also stupid. See, the vaulted shape creates opportunity for dust to accumulate up top and it browns the paint and makes us look homeless. Tonight I will balance myself atop the ladder, like a monkey on a needle, and wash the walls — wash them good and hard until they’re clean. We should be able to eat off the top of my vaulted ceilings, if needed. While I’m up there, I’ll clean the fan — because it too has been browned. I hope someone can turn the fan off while I’m up there — otherwise I might get caught up in the blades.

Around supper time tomorrow, for my birthday celebration, I fully expect to properly stage the house for viewing. There’s also the issue of the basement where we’ll need to replace some of the soundproof drop down ceilings, since several of them have water stains. This too make us look homeless. By next week, however, I fully expect the house to be very clean, from the most remote corner in the basement all the way to the vaulted ceilings in the master bedroom.

After we finally sell this house and move down to NC, I might interest myself in a single beer for 10-15 minutes, before getting back to work, feverishly, on unpacking and redecoration, and renovating, the new House Fly.

Good morning lads. Don’t drink that coffee too fast, otherwise you might burn your lips off.

Trump is out talking shit again about trading deals without proof. Futures are higher, but very soon will be lower.

“It’s happening, it’s happening fast and I think things probably are going to happen with China fast because I cannot imagine that they can be thrilled with thousands of companies leaving their shores for other places,” Trump said during remarks at the White House, providing no evidence of such an Exodus.

When markets break down and have a hard time gaining upwards steam, they fail often and rarely, if ever, will they ascend on Fridays. Hence the phrase applies here “markets do not bottom on Fridays.” You might not believe it now — but you will by this afternoon.

The big story today isn’t about stocks — but cryptos (dot dot dot) surging higher. My ELF coin is up 21% and I couldn’t be more pleased. Truth is, total market cap for all ICOs is only $250m, still down $500m from the highs. I think once BTC breaks $10,000, we will begin to see the light at the end of this very dark tunnel — which is “new all time highs” ahead.

I’m here afflicted by allergies, allergic to the earth and the air, barreling into my birthday — which is tomorrow. I’ll be turning 43, but I look and feel 100. Something about turning 40 sucks the life out of you — and it has only gotten worse in recent years. Part of the reason why I decided to move from here is to change things up a bit — perhaps find a place to live that brings me comfort and peace. We’ll see about that. For now, prepping to sell the house has been hell on earth.

Cheers to better times and always remember — markets do not bottom on Fridays.