I ran two screens, based on seasonality and 52 week highs, members can see the results here. I ran another with similar criteria, but close to the 20 SMA, members here.
Tickers of interest from the 52wk screen:
ARI, GA, MTGE, BSMX,G, PSE, ROSE, WPZ, GME
(Names may have been redundant)
Tickers of the interest from the 20 day SMA screen:
ULTA, KRC, BRY, CBST, LEA, VIP, CTSH
All charts here
Make sure to read the previous posts in this series, starting from the bottom, here.
This is probably going to be the lamest post in the series. Almost no one can recall everything that happened in Al Rumaitha, and it isn’t mentioned in any of the books or articles, because it was just our company, and some mechanized folks shot at each other, which was the highlight in the news. Basically, from what I can remember, after we had taken care of As Samawah, the 101st, and our brigade, were getting ready to continue the push through the “Karbala Gap,” so that 3rd ID could continue toward Baghdad.
If you want a bland and scholarly– but awesome –report on the events, read this. After stomping everything that came our way in As Samawah, we were without a mission and purpose, as 3 ID and 1st Marine Division reequipped to make the assault on Baghdad. The order came down– without warning, of course –that our company would be securing an entrance/exit to the city of Al Rumaitha. Please note, I thought it was “Ar Rumaitha,” but it seems it’s “Al Rumaitha.” Sorry that I don’t know, but it was just another mission.
My platoon was in the lead, for the first time since the train station assault, and 3rd Squad was the assault squad for the first time, (they were seen as the weakest squad). Our objective was a Ba’ath Party headquarters on the outskirts of town, and the adjacent Iraqi Army barracks. My squad was in a support by fire with Weapons Squad, I was actually glad for this, as I was slated to be the second guy into the basement in the “Hospital Mission.” Which, based on “intel,” seemed to be a suicide mission.
We trucked up to the town from the train station, then offloaded and walked the rest of the way. Once we reached the battle line, we all got into formation and hit the headquarters, in full-on assault mode. My squad assaulted forward and setup the initial support by fire, with local, and long security. Weapons Squad joined us soon after, and setup their two M240B machine guns, with intersecting fields of fire on the objective. It is the absolute dark of night, mind you. This all literally took seconds.
3rd squad bombed out to our flank, between us and the Bradley’s we had covering us. Company 60 mm mortars were setup and ready to fire, so were the platoon’s guns, and Javelin anti-tank missiles. With 3rd Squad approaching their assault point, I saw 1st Squad move out through the green glow of my NODS, off to my left. 3rd Squad, confirming the move, sent one team up to the building, gaining local security over the windows and doors. The squad leader and the other team moved up, they then entered and cleared. 1st squad moved up to the “breach point” and followed into the “foothold.”
There was a problem, the first team didn’t look around back to see if their wasn’t another entry point, as they were so focused on the front door. 3rd and 1st Squads entered and cleared the main headquarters office, a small concrete and mud structure, without contact. This gave 3rd Platoon the go ahead to come on down and assault the army barracks.
The story goes, that as 3rd Platoon approached the back side of the building we had just assaulted, their last covered position, they noticed the door,– locked with a padlock from the outside –but figured it had been cleared from the inside. It had not. Their platoon went and took the barracks, without any contact either. The so called “elite,” and “most loyal to the regime,” had literally laid down their weapons, still loaded, and ran away. I guess they heard the “Eighty Deuce” was in town? They literally had two recoilless rifles, loaded and aimed, but just left them like that, even though they could have taken at least three of us with them.
There was a school next door– which would become a common theme –with school buses parked. Somehow– and/or some reason –one of the trucks caught on fire. 3rd Platoon blamed it on the locals, but I still think it was them. They were kind of brigands, and I don’t really know how the locked room went down, but it got cleared the next day, and i’m pretty sure 3rd Platoon was involved in the clearance. Apparently there were mortar rounds and whiskey bottles in the locked room, there were also whiskey bottles in some cars we cleared at the TCP (Traffic Control Point).
Our mission at the time, that we had setup, was to sleep in the headquarters and army barracks, then run TCPs on the road outside– which led in and out of the city, blocking attacks on the supply line. We had “Concertina Wire” setup all across the road, that we would pull back to let people through. I was very serious about my job that day, as we had already found a small two door Mazda truck with RPGs hidden in the back cushion. Not to mention, all the goats, chickens, and people wedged in all manner of places.
Idiot With Whiskey
I wasn’t interested in drinking, many were though, and I will never know why. I love to drink beer these days, but as an 18-year-old, all I wanted to do was fight. Some people in my squad got “‘hold of some of the whiskey,” and drank it, before we had out nighttime guard out at the TCP. I was pissed about this, but ended up being just hyper vigilant on duty, while four of the nine squad-mates snored, leaned up against the curb, smelling of whiskey.
This sounds bad enough, and I was rather upset, but then I found out upper-level NCOs from another platoon were involved in the whiskey, and it made me sick, or so I thought. A few people had been getting sick– dysentery, salmonella, and the like –just from being around the water, dead bodies, and such. As I was sitting there being pissed off about the whiskey situation, and not having an active mission in the fight, I had some downtime to write home, and get some sleep.
As I was writing home, the OPORD (Operation Order), came down. After having some “K-rats” and MRE’s, I was ready to get out of this mud-hole, and get away from the whiskey, as it would not be able to come with us on the trucks, with a packing list. We were to ‘air assault” right behind a couple of battalions from the 101st, my brother’s unit would be flying us, perfect right?
I woke up that morning, and ate one of the non-frosted pop tarts from an MRE, then proceeded to vomit violently. The sickness had gotten to me, wasn’t this a bitch? The one mission that I would be able to do with my brother, I was scratched from the assault. I rode up on a truck, delirious and full of muscle relaxers for my stomach, with Battalion HHC (headquarters), and the other sick and wounded. We were headed to Karbala, one of the holiest cities in Iraq, which had the 101st and 82nd Airborne headed its way.
Karbala Mosque
That close lacked “gusto.” It’s as if all the folks on the Street of Wall are already preparing to head to their summer homes, in the Hamptons. We are closely approaching winter in the southern hemisphere, and so to in the market.
Do not let the blinding blizzard scare you. Venture out into the cold, white, darkness, but take with you the right set of tools and patience. I will be using The PPT to setup some new screens looking for pockets of strength, based on historical seasonality, with high accuracy and high returns. Simultaneously, I will be sharpening my ax, looking for the next GILD, STP, NFLX, etc.
I am always open to other’s ideas, please feel free to drop any in the comments section. But, please note, my analysis will focus very little on charts. Just not my style, I’m afraid, though I frequently go to Chess and RC– when I am looking for supreme conviction –with their mastery of technical analysis. Just another benefit of the #12631.
Let me know if you have any input, or want my opinion on an equity. I’ve found that often time the best way for gaining true conviction before started a new position, is to argue with someone who is “smart.”
On 12/11/12, when giving his endorsement to Maximus, before the elections to become “interim tabbed bloggers,” Senor Tropicana penned these words, in a post.
Rhino is a work horse and does have a certain following behind him. But will he crack under pressure, the pressure of the big stage, once he is relied upon to deliver quality picks on a daily basis? Or will he go “John Rambo” on his effeminate city and end up in prison?
I ask you, good citizens, have I cracked under pressure? Here are 6 picks, with the oldest being NFLX:
Long:
NFLX 1/23/2013, +25%, still long
GILD (March Madness Winner) 2/19/2013, +13.87%, still long
TSLA 2/20/13, +12.13%, still long
Short:
STP 3/11/2013, +70%, covered short
JASO, 3/11/2013, +25.83%, still short
LDK, 3/11/2013, +31.58%, still short
What say you?
I have to say too, that it is absolutely not worth my time to observe this market before 11 am PST. There just isn’t enough volume to develop a solid overall picture. I will, instead, spend that time working on my next masterpiece, and towards cementing my legacy. Bet on that.
I will be back with anohter installment of the Invasion Series tomorrow, about the Iraqi town of Ar Rumaitha.
I ran some screens, one thing that came up on all fo them was GILD, my March Madness winner. “Hey y’all look at this!” (AKA, it’s going to $100):
Wanna bet on it, PAL/GUY, Friendo?
Here are some other names to keep on watch;
QCOM (careful with seasonality), MGA, WDC, RGA, SBS (especially), CDNS, CAM (especially),
USB, SWKS, WDC (especially), NVDA, ATVI, ARR, and MON
Charts here
Sorry I missed the last recap, I was embroiled in my “Invasion Series.” Which, mind you, I am also working on now. In Trial, Rangar raids another town in Northumbria, but he waits until the church bells ring, signalling mass, with frustrates Rollo. This leads to little bloodshed, with the Vikings telling the Saxons that if they do not resist they won’t be hurt.
That stupid idiot, Knut, the Earl’s “main man,” decides to be a total dick, and tries to rape a Saxon woman. Lagertha walks in in on this and tries to make Knut stop, resulting in him beating her, then trying to rape her, before she stabs him in the heart. When they all reconvene at the rally point, Ragnar asks Knut is, and his wife lets him know that she killed him, because he tried to rape her.
Nobody really cares, as they all didn’t like Knut, but they know it will be complicated when they return. Returning to the beach were their ship is moored, carrying their spoils, they observe a force– sent by King Aelle –that has killed the guards of their ship, and is greater number than they. They decide the only way out of this is to fight the greater force. They beat the Saxons badly, and only their leader rides back to the king.
They sail back to Kattegat, their Earl’s base– in modern day Denmark –with all their spoils and a victory on their hands. The only thing that hangs above their heads, is the death of Knut. He is the agent of the Earl, and we will soon learn he is the half brother of the Earl, being the “bastard child of his father.” (His words)
He arrested Ragnar, because of this, and tried to get his brother, Rollo, to testify against him, but Rollo does the opposite. Rollo gets Ragnar and Legertha off the hook, and Ragnar out of a certain death sentence. The Earl offered his daughter to Rollo, in exchange for a confession that Ragnar was guilty. Rollo played his bluff, and– figuratively –gave the Earl the finger. Later that night, as a free man, Ragnar, his family, and his friends, were drinking and having a good time in Kattegat, when a small force of men– knowing they were unarmed –attacked, killing his good companion, and respected elder, Erik.
This makes Ragnar very angry, and he prepares himself for war. Knowing it will come soon. While he is out hunting deer, his farm is attacked, with all his live stock killed, most of his workers killed, all of his livestock killed, him getting wounded, and his family escaping through their secret tunnel into their boat. After he pulls some “madness” to get away from the Earl, he follows his escape route.
They try to follow him but he jumps off of a cliff, and into the the water. His family awaits below in their boat, but he is in no shape to swim, so Athelstan jumps in an saves him. They take him to Floki’s, where his wounds are tended, and his friend is able to find him. After a few conversations about all the different gods, and Athelstan’s god, Ragnar’s friend– who had left and then returned –let Ragnar know that Rollo had been captured and tortured by the Earl.
With his wounds from the Earl’s raid on his farm not close to healing, Ragnar sends Floki to Kattegat. He asks Floki to challenge the Earl to single combat,, even though he is still very injured. The Earl thinks of him and Rollo as criminals, and usurpers, with the murder of his sons still fresh in his memory, and the culprit still not established.
The Earl marries his daughter to an old, ugly, Swede. His wife is not happy about this, and we also learn that his wife has something with Rollo. She hates to see when the Earl starts torturing Rollo, and makes it obvious, I think we’re seeing her loyalty start to shift.
In the next episode we shall see Ragnar challenge the Earl, while injured. this will determine who the next leader is.
I’ve told you this before, but one of the absolute worse feeling in the world to me is “quitting.” Today I was watching SoundFX of John Randle on Football Network, and watching the fear in the QB’s face as John came at him with every ounce of strength and explosion he had, and John’s laughter after crushing the QB, reminded me of coming off the scrum or ruck in rugby and crushing some poor unsuspecting back. In rugby you have to “wrap tackle,” you can’t just throw yourself at the guy with the ball. I wanted the other team to break, and not want to play us, so I learned how to do “Judo Tackles,” where I would just pick the guy with the ball up and slam him down as hard as I could. Like this:
Nobody ever told me to do this, I just realized that after I got slammed like that, it knocked the wind out of me, and subsequently slowed me down. How could I do that to the other team, bingo. Then after SoundFX ended, it went to a show on the 2007 draft, with players like Ted Gin and Ryan Kalil at their homes– with lots of friends and family cheering them on –Ryan’s mom even started showing all these pictures of Ryan playing “pee-wee.” My parents don’t have one picture of me playing rugby. “Why’s he talking about rugby?” I’m getting there.
In 1995, right after the 49ers won the Superbowl, a young Rhino was finally heavy enough to play “Pop Warner” football. Which, I believe was 90lbs, because my county only had two weight divisions. I would have been 11, and 90lbs dripping wet. I was a skinny kid growing up, but pretty athletic, there were a lot of fatties that got tired quick on the O line. Naturally, I was placed at Tackle. I knew I was a better QB than the current one, but he got the spot, and I was not happy about being on the O line. I convinced the coach to let me be the starting TE, that was also the receiving TE, and I also got to be the linebacker that rushed the most.
I was so stoked on this, and all day at summer camp I couldn’t wait to go to practice. I’d be so excited when my Dad picked me up, but he would always be tired after a long day at work, and– especially at that time in his life –held sports in huge disdain. He had gone to the United States Naval Academy, then started working at a huge engineering firm, and getting his MBA from Haas while working. Yet, his son looked up to guys who got paid ten times what he did, to play a game.
I recently had a talk with him when I was out east around Christmas, he thinks of sports– still –as a means to an end, instead of the inverse. I agree, but where he failed with that, and me, is that he tried to make me– at such a young age –hate sports. He would always go on about how cops, teachers, etc, should be at the top of the pay scale, basic supply and demand.
I made garbage money when I was a soldier, but that’s how it goes. UA and NKE don’t sponsor individual soldiers, for being good soldiers. Is this unfair, I don’t know, what’s really fair? Everyday when I got home from practice, all I got was indifference and/or negativity toward my love of football. My Mom couldn’t care less, she wanted me to be an actor or musician, and an accountant, at the same time. I play instruments and stuff, but I don’t have the same drive in that arena.
On the Saturday a week before our first game of the regular season, I was so dejected, when it was time to go to practice I said I wasn’t going. To this day this bothers me, my Dad just said “okay,” called the coach, and went back to doing yard work. When I didn’t show up to practice the coach was very concerned and called my Dad, my Dad told him what I said, the coach wanted to talk to me, but I said no.
To this day I thought I was just being a little bitch, but it wasn’t the soreness, it wasn’t the hits, it wasn’t all the sprints in the middle of the summer, it was something else. The disinterest from my Mom, and my Dad’s ramblings about pro sports, did it– I may still be a “little bitch” for this,. I don’t like positive reinforcement, but as a young child, I could only take the “what you love is stupid,” stuff for so long. This is going to sound conceited, but I truly believe that I could have played in the NFL, and my brother too.
My brother still holds a CA state record in a track event. He is still one of the fastest people I have ever seen, but took that talent and work ethic to being one of the best pilots in the world. It’s not like our talents– or athletic abilities –were wasted, the great United States used us to go kick terrorist ass. If I were my Dad, I would have handled it differently. I’m not a parent, so I can’t speak with any experience, but I think I would have made my young-self get in the car, then taken me to practice, and said “you don’t have to practice, but you made a commitment to show up.”
I probably would have never wanted to quit if I was treated with this type of attitude from the beginning, but who knows, it’s only something I think about everyday. I think my parents did the best job they could, they worked so hard constantly, to the point that I feel some sense of guilt everyday, for every time I made it harder for them. Please excuse me if I value hard work and sacrifice. My brother and I grew to hate football, as it represented the “evil empire.” Everything that was wrong with our country, fat idiots watching people do the things they only wish they could, every Sunday, with Ranch dressing dripping down their chins.
I went out for the football team, when I was a brand new freshman– something I still think my parents know nothing about –but now everything was politicized. All the kid’s dads knew the coaches, no one even knew who I was, and even though I went and killed it in the tryouts, I was set to be the second string RG on the freshman team. No thank you. Things were different in rugby, pure competition.
I truly think I could have been decent– if not great at football –but I never gave myself the chance. Obviously, a lot of this is on my shoulders. I’ve never had a strength coach, or a “program.” I’ve done everything myself, through hard work, and a lot of research. Bench, over 400 lbs, squat, over 600 lbs, deadlift, over 500 lbs, and now running, sub-5 second, 40 meter dashes. NO ONE, ever taught me how to sprint or lift, I had to figure it out all by myself.
Guess where I got the will to work hard, blast through adversity, and do the homework from? That’s right, my parents. Though I don’t think they handled this particular situation the right way, and we all could have benefited from another approach, here I am, WORKING MY ASS OFF. YOU CANNOT TEACH A BETTER LIFE LESSON THAN THAT. I think this lesson was lost in the commitment and personal sacrifice learned by playing football, but it was learned in life.
There’s one other time that I think about quitting everyday. I took a fight on three days notice, after moving back to Santa Barbara, 5 days before. So, without training in a fight gym for 6 months, I took an exhibition kickboxing match on 3 days notice. This was at a Hells Angels motorcycle rally outside of Ojai, CA. They had a bunch of fights, and the Metal Mullisha jumping bikes, but no ambulance. All they had was a medic on site, but it was an exhibition fight right?
Anyone that has ever been in the fight game, knows that “sparring,” quickly turns into “fighting,” in front of other people, or period, for that matter. I went out and knocked this dude down– who was in good shape –three times, before I got tired. Then the layoff got to me, and he landed a head-kick that sent his toe nail into my right eye. Did I mention we walked through gravel to get to the cage?
I still feel like an absolute punk for both of these moves, but guess what? I frankly don’t give a shit about if you think I quit or not, and, no one ever became great by not taking risks, and realizing there is a lesson in everything. I’m stronger because of all of this, and the fact that I think about quitting everyday, only makes me want to succeed more. Happy Easter and Passover to all. Rhino out. Much love to Momma and Papa Rhino.
Check out one of of the “knock downs.” (Note, it was a switch-step left high kick, and he did not “slip,” as the dude in the background says).
I just don’t get it. I see the gym as my temple, but some sorry fuckers always want to come ask me some stupid questions. Asking a question is one thing, asking a question just to tell me what I’m doing “wrong,” is a whole ‘nother story. I’d like to beat all of your faces in. The guy who asked me “why I grabbed the 70 lb DBs because I could only get 3 reps?,” [the beginning of a superset]. The guy that said it didn’t count because it was a “Smith Machine,” when I got 3 reps on the crappy Smith Machine– it sticks at points on the way up –with 540 lbs in just plate weight, going all the way down to the stops, stopping, taking a breath, then coming back up. Or, the dude that said “why do you arch your back when you bench press? Isn’t that dangerous, and shouldn’t you have your elbows out, I even like to have my feet up?”
Mr Fletcher, CT, I want to thank you and Arash for everything you do. San Francisco has no hardcore gyms anymore. I don’t have any training partners, but this week I benched 410 lbs in just “plate weight,” for 5 reps with no spot on the Smith, pulled 675 lbs off of the second pin in the cage, with just a belt and chalk, and squatted 540 lbs in just “plate weight all the way down to the “stop, (see above). If you just took the best rep of all three, they would add up to 1605 lbs. I want so bad to be a “sick motha fucka.” No matter what, I go all out, all the time.
Have you ever even lifted that in your life? @chessNwine @RaginCajun @a_bh_a @UncleBuccs @The_Analyst and the GURU @marc_david can vouch for my lifts. I didn’t have a spotter on ANY of them, but that didn’t stop me. I’m not scared of shit, everyday I wake up and watch CT say this. I go to the gym actively looking to kick pain’s ass, just like I kick adversity’s ass the rest of the time. Whether it’s the one company I am running, the two I am working on starting, my blogging, my quest to bench 500 lbs, or training to try out for the San Jose Sabercats.
Every night, before bed, I watch this, great words by CT. I will be bench pressing 500 lbs within the next month. Bet on that, SNAP CITY PUSSIES.
A 101st soldier and an 82nd soldier are room mates.
One night during a drunken night. Their only lighter slips, and falls from the second story balcony.
The 82nd soldier immediately jumps and spends a few seconds to recover himself off the ground.
The 101st soldier finds himself some rope and gently ropes down.
Who gets the lighter first?Who cares only one of them didn’t look like a pussy.
This made me laugh my ass off!
I’m a GOLDEN GOD!
Not really. I won iBC’s Annual March Madness Stock Contest, (see RC’s post here), with a combination of a lot of luck, and a lot of hard work. I tried to pick a stock I knew well, GILD, that had momentum at the beginning of the contest, and hopefully would continue with strength. Picking a biotech stock is always a gamble, as the FDA can be a fickle beast.
I placed my bet on their “human capital.” My buddy, who works for them, works so god damned hard, and his team works just as hard, if not harder. I try to distance myself from talking to him about specific information regarding their development, that’s wrong, and it’s illegal. Plenty of professors, and professionals, have told me that it’s just too hard or impossible to beat the market.
I believe they are wrong, and I’ve mentioned before that when I was initially looking at ZNGA as a short, one of my biggest tells was that the majority of their employees I spoke to, hated their jobs, and more importantly, didn’t believe in them. You can’t win battles if your soldiers don’t want to fight.
My boy who works for GILD, truly believes in what he does, and he holds his team to the same standard. These folks are fighting with the same vigor and determination to rid the world of AIDS, HEP-C, etc; that I fought with to end the world of terrorists.
That’s something I can get behind.
I ran two screens, based on seasonality and 52 week highs, members can see the results here. I ran another with similar criteria, but close to the 20 SMA, members here.
Tickers of interest from the 52wk screen:
ARI, GA, MTGE, BSMX,G, PSE, ROSE, WPZ, GME
(Names may have been redundant)
Tickers of the interest from the 20 day SMA screen:
ULTA, KRC, BRY, CBST, LEA, VIP, CTSH
All charts here
Make sure to read the previous posts in this series, starting from the bottom, here.
This is probably going to be the lamest post in the series. Almost no one can recall everything that happened in Al Rumaitha, and it isn’t mentioned in any of the books or articles, because it was just our company, and some mechanized folks shot at each other, which was the highlight in the news. Basically, from what I can remember, after we had taken care of As Samawah, the 101st, and our brigade, were getting ready to continue the push through the “Karbala Gap,” so that 3rd ID could continue toward Baghdad.
If you want a bland and scholarly– but awesome –report on the events, read this. After stomping everything that came our way in As Samawah, we were without a mission and purpose, as 3 ID and 1st Marine Division reequipped to make the assault on Baghdad. The order came down– without warning, of course –that our company would be securing an entrance/exit to the city of Al Rumaitha. Please note, I thought it was “Ar Rumaitha,” but it seems it’s “Al Rumaitha.” Sorry that I don’t know, but it was just another mission.
My platoon was in the lead, for the first time since the train station assault, and 3rd Squad was the assault squad for the first time, (they were seen as the weakest squad). Our objective was a Ba’ath Party headquarters on the outskirts of town, and the adjacent Iraqi Army barracks. My squad was in a support by fire with Weapons Squad, I was actually glad for this, as I was slated to be the second guy into the basement in the “Hospital Mission.” Which, based on “intel,” seemed to be a suicide mission.
We trucked up to the town from the train station, then offloaded and walked the rest of the way. Once we reached the battle line, we all got into formation and hit the headquarters, in full-on assault mode. My squad assaulted forward and setup the initial support by fire, with local, and long security. Weapons Squad joined us soon after, and setup their two M240B machine guns, with intersecting fields of fire on the objective. It is the absolute dark of night, mind you. This all literally took seconds.
3rd squad bombed out to our flank, between us and the Bradley’s we had covering us. Company 60 mm mortars were setup and ready to fire, so were the platoon’s guns, and Javelin anti-tank missiles. With 3rd Squad approaching their assault point, I saw 1st Squad move out through the green glow of my NODS, off to my left. 3rd Squad, confirming the move, sent one team up to the building, gaining local security over the windows and doors. The squad leader and the other team moved up, they then entered and cleared. 1st squad moved up to the “breach point” and followed into the “foothold.”
There was a problem, the first team didn’t look around back to see if their wasn’t another entry point, as they were so focused on the front door. 3rd and 1st Squads entered and cleared the main headquarters office, a small concrete and mud structure, without contact. This gave 3rd Platoon the go ahead to come on down and assault the army barracks.
The story goes, that as 3rd Platoon approached the back side of the building we had just assaulted, their last covered position, they noticed the door,– locked with a padlock from the outside –but figured it had been cleared from the inside. It had not. Their platoon went and took the barracks, without any contact either. The so called “elite,” and “most loyal to the regime,” had literally laid down their weapons, still loaded, and ran away. I guess they heard the “Eighty Deuce” was in town? They literally had two recoilless rifles, loaded and aimed, but just left them like that, even though they could have taken at least three of us with them.
There was a school next door– which would become a common theme –with school buses parked. Somehow– and/or some reason –one of the trucks caught on fire. 3rd Platoon blamed it on the locals, but I still think it was them. They were kind of brigands, and I don’t really know how the locked room went down, but it got cleared the next day, and i’m pretty sure 3rd Platoon was involved in the clearance. Apparently there were mortar rounds and whiskey bottles in the locked room, there were also whiskey bottles in some cars we cleared at the TCP (Traffic Control Point).
Our mission at the time, that we had setup, was to sleep in the headquarters and army barracks, then run TCPs on the road outside– which led in and out of the city, blocking attacks on the supply line. We had “Concertina Wire” setup all across the road, that we would pull back to let people through. I was very serious about my job that day, as we had already found a small two door Mazda truck with RPGs hidden in the back cushion. Not to mention, all the goats, chickens, and people wedged in all manner of places.
Idiot With Whiskey
I wasn’t interested in drinking, many were though, and I will never know why. I love to drink beer these days, but as an 18-year-old, all I wanted to do was fight. Some people in my squad got “‘hold of some of the whiskey,” and drank it, before we had out nighttime guard out at the TCP. I was pissed about this, but ended up being just hyper vigilant on duty, while four of the nine squad-mates snored, leaned up against the curb, smelling of whiskey.
This sounds bad enough, and I was rather upset, but then I found out upper-level NCOs from another platoon were involved in the whiskey, and it made me sick, or so I thought. A few people had been getting sick– dysentery, salmonella, and the like –just from being around the water, dead bodies, and such. As I was sitting there being pissed off about the whiskey situation, and not having an active mission in the fight, I had some downtime to write home, and get some sleep.
As I was writing home, the OPORD (Operation Order), came down. After having some “K-rats” and MRE’s, I was ready to get out of this mud-hole, and get away from the whiskey, as it would not be able to come with us on the trucks, with a packing list. We were to ‘air assault” right behind a couple of battalions from the 101st, my brother’s unit would be flying us, perfect right?
I woke up that morning, and ate one of the non-frosted pop tarts from an MRE, then proceeded to vomit violently. The sickness had gotten to me, wasn’t this a bitch? The one mission that I would be able to do with my brother, I was scratched from the assault. I rode up on a truck, delirious and full of muscle relaxers for my stomach, with Battalion HHC (headquarters), and the other sick and wounded. We were headed to Karbala, one of the holiest cities in Iraq, which had the 101st and 82nd Airborne headed its way.
Karbala Mosque
That close lacked “gusto.” It’s as if all the folks on the Street of Wall are already preparing to head to their summer homes, in the Hamptons. We are closely approaching winter in the southern hemisphere, and so to in the market.
Do not let the blinding blizzard scare you. Venture out into the cold, white, darkness, but take with you the right set of tools and patience. I will be using The PPT to setup some new screens looking for pockets of strength, based on historical seasonality, with high accuracy and high returns. Simultaneously, I will be sharpening my ax, looking for the next GILD, STP, NFLX, etc.
I am always open to other’s ideas, please feel free to drop any in the comments section. But, please note, my analysis will focus very little on charts. Just not my style, I’m afraid, though I frequently go to Chess and RC– when I am looking for supreme conviction –with their mastery of technical analysis. Just another benefit of the #12631.
Let me know if you have any input, or want my opinion on an equity. I’ve found that often time the best way for gaining true conviction before started a new position, is to argue with someone who is “smart.”
On 12/11/12, when giving his endorsement to Maximus, before the elections to become “interim tabbed bloggers,” Senor Tropicana penned these words, in a post.
Rhino is a work horse and does have a certain following behind him. But will he crack under pressure, the pressure of the big stage, once he is relied upon to deliver quality picks on a daily basis? Or will he go “John Rambo” on his effeminate city and end up in prison?
I ask you, good citizens, have I cracked under pressure? Here are 6 picks, with the oldest being NFLX:
Long:
NFLX 1/23/2013, +25%, still long
GILD (March Madness Winner) 2/19/2013, +13.87%, still long
TSLA 2/20/13, +12.13%, still long
Short:
STP 3/11/2013, +70%, covered short
JASO, 3/11/2013, +25.83%, still short
LDK, 3/11/2013, +31.58%, still short
What say you?
I have to say too, that it is absolutely not worth my time to observe this market before 11 am PST. There just isn’t enough volume to develop a solid overall picture. I will, instead, spend that time working on my next masterpiece, and towards cementing my legacy. Bet on that.
I will be back with anohter installment of the Invasion Series tomorrow, about the Iraqi town of Ar Rumaitha.
I ran some screens, one thing that came up on all fo them was GILD, my March Madness winner. “Hey y’all look at this!” (AKA, it’s going to $100):
Wanna bet on it, PAL/GUY, Friendo?
Here are some other names to keep on watch;
QCOM (careful with seasonality), MGA, WDC, RGA, SBS (especially), CDNS, CAM (especially),
USB, SWKS, WDC (especially), NVDA, ATVI, ARR, and MON
Charts here
Sorry I missed the last recap, I was embroiled in my “Invasion Series.” Which, mind you, I am also working on now. In Trial, Rangar raids another town in Northumbria, but he waits until the church bells ring, signalling mass, with frustrates Rollo. This leads to little bloodshed, with the Vikings telling the Saxons that if they do not resist they won’t be hurt.
That stupid idiot, Knut, the Earl’s “main man,” decides to be a total dick, and tries to rape a Saxon woman. Lagertha walks in in on this and tries to make Knut stop, resulting in him beating her, then trying to rape her, before she stabs him in the heart. When they all reconvene at the rally point, Ragnar asks Knut is, and his wife lets him know that she killed him, because he tried to rape her.
Nobody really cares, as they all didn’t like Knut, but they know it will be complicated when they return. Returning to the beach were their ship is moored, carrying their spoils, they observe a force– sent by King Aelle –that has killed the guards of their ship, and is greater number than they. They decide the only way out of this is to fight the greater force. They beat the Saxons badly, and only their leader rides back to the king.
They sail back to Kattegat, their Earl’s base– in modern day Denmark –with all their spoils and a victory on their hands. The only thing that hangs above their heads, is the death of Knut. He is the agent of the Earl, and we will soon learn he is the half brother of the Earl, being the “bastard child of his father.” (His words)
He arrested Ragnar, because of this, and tried to get his brother, Rollo, to testify against him, but Rollo does the opposite. Rollo gets Ragnar and Legertha off the hook, and Ragnar out of a certain death sentence. The Earl offered his daughter to Rollo, in exchange for a confession that Ragnar was guilty. Rollo played his bluff, and– figuratively –gave the Earl the finger. Later that night, as a free man, Ragnar, his family, and his friends, were drinking and having a good time in Kattegat, when a small force of men– knowing they were unarmed –attacked, killing his good companion, and respected elder, Erik.
This makes Ragnar very angry, and he prepares himself for war. Knowing it will come soon. While he is out hunting deer, his farm is attacked, with all his live stock killed, most of his workers killed, all of his livestock killed, him getting wounded, and his family escaping through their secret tunnel into their boat. After he pulls some “madness” to get away from the Earl, he follows his escape route.
They try to follow him but he jumps off of a cliff, and into the the water. His family awaits below in their boat, but he is in no shape to swim, so Athelstan jumps in an saves him. They take him to Floki’s, where his wounds are tended, and his friend is able to find him. After a few conversations about all the different gods, and Athelstan’s god, Ragnar’s friend– who had left and then returned –let Ragnar know that Rollo had been captured and tortured by the Earl.
With his wounds from the Earl’s raid on his farm not close to healing, Ragnar sends Floki to Kattegat. He asks Floki to challenge the Earl to single combat,, even though he is still very injured. The Earl thinks of him and Rollo as criminals, and usurpers, with the murder of his sons still fresh in his memory, and the culprit still not established.
The Earl marries his daughter to an old, ugly, Swede. His wife is not happy about this, and we also learn that his wife has something with Rollo. She hates to see when the Earl starts torturing Rollo, and makes it obvious, I think we’re seeing her loyalty start to shift.
In the next episode we shall see Ragnar challenge the Earl, while injured. this will determine who the next leader is.
I’ve told you this before, but one of the absolute worse feeling in the world to me is “quitting.” Today I was watching SoundFX of John Randle on Football Network, and watching the fear in the QB’s face as John came at him with every ounce of strength and explosion he had, and John’s laughter after crushing the QB, reminded me of coming off the scrum or ruck in rugby and crushing some poor unsuspecting back. In rugby you have to “wrap tackle,” you can’t just throw yourself at the guy with the ball. I wanted the other team to break, and not want to play us, so I learned how to do “Judo Tackles,” where I would just pick the guy with the ball up and slam him down as hard as I could. Like this:
Nobody ever told me to do this, I just realized that after I got slammed like that, it knocked the wind out of me, and subsequently slowed me down. How could I do that to the other team, bingo. Then after SoundFX ended, it went to a show on the 2007 draft, with players like Ted Gin and Ryan Kalil at their homes– with lots of friends and family cheering them on –Ryan’s mom even started showing all these pictures of Ryan playing “pee-wee.” My parents don’t have one picture of me playing rugby. “Why’s he talking about rugby?” I’m getting there.
In 1995, right after the 49ers won the Superbowl, a young Rhino was finally heavy enough to play “Pop Warner” football. Which, I believe was 90lbs, because my county only had two weight divisions. I would have been 11, and 90lbs dripping wet. I was a skinny kid growing up, but pretty athletic, there were a lot of fatties that got tired quick on the O line. Naturally, I was placed at Tackle. I knew I was a better QB than the current one, but he got the spot, and I was not happy about being on the O line. I convinced the coach to let me be the starting TE, that was also the receiving TE, and I also got to be the linebacker that rushed the most.
I was so stoked on this, and all day at summer camp I couldn’t wait to go to practice. I’d be so excited when my Dad picked me up, but he would always be tired after a long day at work, and– especially at that time in his life –held sports in huge disdain. He had gone to the United States Naval Academy, then started working at a huge engineering firm, and getting his MBA from Haas while working. Yet, his son looked up to guys who got paid ten times what he did, to play a game.
I recently had a talk with him when I was out east around Christmas, he thinks of sports– still –as a means to an end, instead of the inverse. I agree, but where he failed with that, and me, is that he tried to make me– at such a young age –hate sports. He would always go on about how cops, teachers, etc, should be at the top of the pay scale, basic supply and demand.
I made garbage money when I was a soldier, but that’s how it goes. UA and NKE don’t sponsor individual soldiers, for being good soldiers. Is this unfair, I don’t know, what’s really fair? Everyday when I got home from practice, all I got was indifference and/or negativity toward my love of football. My Mom couldn’t care less, she wanted me to be an actor or musician, and an accountant, at the same time. I play instruments and stuff, but I don’t have the same drive in that arena.
On the Saturday a week before our first game of the regular season, I was so dejected, when it was time to go to practice I said I wasn’t going. To this day this bothers me, my Dad just said “okay,” called the coach, and went back to doing yard work. When I didn’t show up to practice the coach was very concerned and called my Dad, my Dad told him what I said, the coach wanted to talk to me, but I said no.
To this day I thought I was just being a little bitch, but it wasn’t the soreness, it wasn’t the hits, it wasn’t all the sprints in the middle of the summer, it was something else. The disinterest from my Mom, and my Dad’s ramblings about pro sports, did it– I may still be a “little bitch” for this,. I don’t like positive reinforcement, but as a young child, I could only take the “what you love is stupid,” stuff for so long. This is going to sound conceited, but I truly believe that I could have played in the NFL, and my brother too.
My brother still holds a CA state record in a track event. He is still one of the fastest people I have ever seen, but took that talent and work ethic to being one of the best pilots in the world. It’s not like our talents– or athletic abilities –were wasted, the great United States used us to go kick terrorist ass. If I were my Dad, I would have handled it differently. I’m not a parent, so I can’t speak with any experience, but I think I would have made my young-self get in the car, then taken me to practice, and said “you don’t have to practice, but you made a commitment to show up.”
I probably would have never wanted to quit if I was treated with this type of attitude from the beginning, but who knows, it’s only something I think about everyday. I think my parents did the best job they could, they worked so hard constantly, to the point that I feel some sense of guilt everyday, for every time I made it harder for them. Please excuse me if I value hard work and sacrifice. My brother and I grew to hate football, as it represented the “evil empire.” Everything that was wrong with our country, fat idiots watching people do the things they only wish they could, every Sunday, with Ranch dressing dripping down their chins.
I went out for the football team, when I was a brand new freshman– something I still think my parents know nothing about –but now everything was politicized. All the kid’s dads knew the coaches, no one even knew who I was, and even though I went and killed it in the tryouts, I was set to be the second string RG on the freshman team. No thank you. Things were different in rugby, pure competition.
I truly think I could have been decent– if not great at football –but I never gave myself the chance. Obviously, a lot of this is on my shoulders. I’ve never had a strength coach, or a “program.” I’ve done everything myself, through hard work, and a lot of research. Bench, over 400 lbs, squat, over 600 lbs, deadlift, over 500 lbs, and now running, sub-5 second, 40 meter dashes. NO ONE, ever taught me how to sprint or lift, I had to figure it out all by myself.
Guess where I got the will to work hard, blast through adversity, and do the homework from? That’s right, my parents. Though I don’t think they handled this particular situation the right way, and we all could have benefited from another approach, here I am, WORKING MY ASS OFF. YOU CANNOT TEACH A BETTER LIFE LESSON THAN THAT. I think this lesson was lost in the commitment and personal sacrifice learned by playing football, but it was learned in life.
There’s one other time that I think about quitting everyday. I took a fight on three days notice, after moving back to Santa Barbara, 5 days before. So, without training in a fight gym for 6 months, I took an exhibition kickboxing match on 3 days notice. This was at a Hells Angels motorcycle rally outside of Ojai, CA. They had a bunch of fights, and the Metal Mullisha jumping bikes, but no ambulance. All they had was a medic on site, but it was an exhibition fight right?
Anyone that has ever been in the fight game, knows that “sparring,” quickly turns into “fighting,” in front of other people, or period, for that matter. I went out and knocked this dude down– who was in good shape –three times, before I got tired. Then the layoff got to me, and he landed a head-kick that sent his toe nail into my right eye. Did I mention we walked through gravel to get to the cage?
I still feel like an absolute punk for both of these moves, but guess what? I frankly don’t give a shit about if you think I quit or not, and, no one ever became great by not taking risks, and realizing there is a lesson in everything. I’m stronger because of all of this, and the fact that I think about quitting everyday, only makes me want to succeed more. Happy Easter and Passover to all. Rhino out. Much love to Momma and Papa Rhino.
Check out one of of the “knock downs.” (Note, it was a switch-step left high kick, and he did not “slip,” as the dude in the background says).
I just don’t get it. I see the gym as my temple, but some sorry fuckers always want to come ask me some stupid questions. Asking a question is one thing, asking a question just to tell me what I’m doing “wrong,” is a whole ‘nother story. I’d like to beat all of your faces in. The guy who asked me “why I grabbed the 70 lb DBs because I could only get 3 reps?,” [the beginning of a superset]. The guy that said it didn’t count because it was a “Smith Machine,” when I got 3 reps on the crappy Smith Machine– it sticks at points on the way up –with 540 lbs in just plate weight, going all the way down to the stops, stopping, taking a breath, then coming back up. Or, the dude that said “why do you arch your back when you bench press? Isn’t that dangerous, and shouldn’t you have your elbows out, I even like to have my feet up?”
Mr Fletcher, CT, I want to thank you and Arash for everything you do. San Francisco has no hardcore gyms anymore. I don’t have any training partners, but this week I benched 410 lbs in just “plate weight,” for 5 reps with no spot on the Smith, pulled 675 lbs off of the second pin in the cage, with just a belt and chalk, and squatted 540 lbs in just “plate weight all the way down to the “stop, (see above). If you just took the best rep of all three, they would add up to 1605 lbs. I want so bad to be a “sick motha fucka.” No matter what, I go all out, all the time.
Have you ever even lifted that in your life? @chessNwine @RaginCajun @a_bh_a @UncleBuccs @The_Analyst and the GURU @marc_david can vouch for my lifts. I didn’t have a spotter on ANY of them, but that didn’t stop me. I’m not scared of shit, everyday I wake up and watch CT say this. I go to the gym actively looking to kick pain’s ass, just like I kick adversity’s ass the rest of the time. Whether it’s the one company I am running, the two I am working on starting, my blogging, my quest to bench 500 lbs, or training to try out for the San Jose Sabercats.
Every night, before bed, I watch this, great words by CT. I will be bench pressing 500 lbs within the next month. Bet on that, SNAP CITY PUSSIES.
A 101st soldier and an 82nd soldier are room mates.
One night during a drunken night. Their only lighter slips, and falls from the second story balcony.
The 82nd soldier immediately jumps and spends a few seconds to recover himself off the ground.
The 101st soldier finds himself some rope and gently ropes down.
Who gets the lighter first?Who cares only one of them didn’t look like a pussy.
This made me laugh my ass off!
I’m a GOLDEN GOD!
Not really. I won iBC’s Annual March Madness Stock Contest, (see RC’s post here), with a combination of a lot of luck, and a lot of hard work. I tried to pick a stock I knew well, GILD, that had momentum at the beginning of the contest, and hopefully would continue with strength. Picking a biotech stock is always a gamble, as the FDA can be a fickle beast.
I placed my bet on their “human capital.” My buddy, who works for them, works so god damned hard, and his team works just as hard, if not harder. I try to distance myself from talking to him about specific information regarding their development, that’s wrong, and it’s illegal. Plenty of professors, and professionals, have told me that it’s just too hard or impossible to beat the market.
I believe they are wrong, and I’ve mentioned before that when I was initially looking at ZNGA as a short, one of my biggest tells was that the majority of their employees I spoke to, hated their jobs, and more importantly, didn’t believe in them. You can’t win battles if your soldiers don’t want to fight.
My boy who works for GILD, truly believes in what he does, and he holds his team to the same standard. These folks are fighting with the same vigor and determination to rid the world of AIDS, HEP-C, etc; that I fought with to end the world of terrorists.
That’s something I can get behind.
