As the likes of GSVC FB YELP and Z seek to destroy my financial grubstake, money gained from grinding day after day in the depths of Gotham City, I find myself doing nothing more than sampling the sounds of this weekend’s electronic musicians. I understand taking risk off. Believe me, I get it. Many of these financial planners, these human paraquat dicksukers that hang around investment parlors jockeying phones while sporting trendy mullets and shiny tracksuits are scared of their own shadows. They’re taking risk off. They really got burned at the turn of the millennium and they have the rehab bills to prove it. They’re homos.
Please take no offense if I am describing you. Just hop in your little red Mercedes convertible and pop that ball cap over your bald spot. Your 32-foot bayliner and Van Halen cassettes are waiting for you at the marina for an exciting weekend. Enjoy a few fist pumps and “fuck yeahs” as you cruise the disease infested lakes. Just leave me the fuck alone.
I will be examining the carnage this weekend from my perch high atop the bludgeoned skyscrapers of our crime infested town. It’s going to be a hot weekend. Be prepared for a freak show.
Don’t read too far into this selloff we’re experiencing in the socials. It is bullshit. I promise you there will be a day when we look at these prices with awe. Some of you, the less brave asexual types who doubted the revolution, will then surgically remove your balls and sell them at a fundraiser. A dinner where sautéed balls are the main course.
What you need to do is protect your capital and weather the storm. Keep cash level around. My cash is currently around 30% with another 5% in AWK and another 5% in QID. QID has been rendered useless since the rest of the fucking NASDAQ is spending the day making sausage. It’s shitty insurance for socials. Take my word for it.
Have a happy fucking holiday everybody and happy birthday Monsieur Le Fly Tropicana Clawhammer.