You know how I know we are going higher? Because you’re unable to answer the fucking question. From baker to faker, everyone is doom and gloom. It’s so easy to tear down a house, much harder to build one. “The Fly” is not a permabull; he just likes to bet against you. I am a fucking dragon, breathing fire down on your trading systems, burning your anatomy to a cinder.
I depart for an undisclosed Caribbean island tomorrow for the explicit purposes of having a face to face meeting with my VooDoo Magician Physician. Fuck around with me this week and end up on the receiving end of needles in your head.
While there will be many goats, pigs and chickens sacrificed, in my name, for the benefit of my purse (NO HOMO), many of you can hitch a ride onto my coattails, for they are very long. I know exactly what I am doing and have full control of my near term destiny.
Instead of offering ideas and specific actionable investment picks, I will leave you with a poem of sorts. These words shall live with you forever and ever, then kill the enemies of your great, great, great, great, great, great grandson, many centuries from now.
The stock market is nothing like a stupid chart,
Filled with bullshit dots and lines;
It yanks on your balls and a stabs you in the heart
And it will make you write poems with rhymes.
Never fret what you cannot understand,
And remember to never call in sick;
For that bitch of a whore Mother Market might command
All of your money, hair and your dick.