It’s Official: BEARS SURRENDER

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I bought 105,000 shares of FTK between $2.44-2.55.

UPDATE: I bought 2,000 SD @ $9.50 and 2,000 ATHR @ $18.04.

Disclaimer: If you buy FTK because of this post, the stress test will prove to be a killer, effectively putting you into cardiac arrest. And, you may lose money.

I am no longer conciliatory to your stupid ways. I have taken time out of my Godly days to forewarn you of future melt ups, all thanks and praise to my time machine for that. You were permitted to see “The Fly” commit early errors, and then see how a true pro reverses his fortune.

You became lock stepped with depraved morons, who are better suited collecting bags of rice in his basement, than banking coin in the stock market.

Ladies and Gentlemen, people of the underground rice collection agency:

I am your enemy. “The Fly” embodies what you are not, specifically with regards to monstrous and appalling stock market wins. For example: CROX, WRES, NGAS amongst others.

Just a few weeks ago, most of you mocked me when I picked up large blocks of CROX. You threw meatloaf at my general direction and told me “you’re crazy, asshole.” Lo and behold, here we are 50%+ higher and I am throwing fucking lawn chairs at you.

See, that’s how natural order works. Darwin warned you of such outcomes; you chose not to read him.

In closing, it does not matter where the market goes today or tomorrow, since I have already won. I will take profits on a variety of names and it will perplex/annoy most of you. Yes, indeed, my next move will be Godly, sending my YTD gains above 50%. Until then, good luck navigating this tape, you most certainly will need it.

UPDATE: I sold out of my CROX position, north of $3.

UPDATE II: I sold out of my WRES position, north of $2.25.

UPDATE III: I sold 20% of my NGAS position, north of $2.65.

During the trough of the 2002 market decline, a broker at an old firm (reputable, internationally recognized investment bank) of mine came dressed to work in basketball jerseys and slippers, whenever the fuck he felt like it. No kidding, this fucker was out of control, mainly because his dick swung low, doing massive monthly production, thanks in large part to his short only book and gangster ways.

As every other broker had his balls buckshot monthly, he’d just short 300,000 shares of some stupid internet stock and make 50%. He walked around the firm, as if he owned the place, followed by 10 peasant idiot cold callers, dressed in Chinese delivery man business shirts and money ties. They were the lowest of the low. My cold callers looked like JP Morgan and Gus Levy, compared to these losers.

A friend of mine, who was in the most unfortunate position of supervising him, would get into fierce battles with this man, solely based upon his egregious work attire, which consisted of terry cloth sweat suits, gold chains and Nike high tops. In all hilariousness, the firm was so desperate for production, with investment banking shut the fuck down and most brokers in the soup, they let this maniac run wild throughout the firm, as if it were his personal basketball court.

The prim and proper types looked at him with contempt, even DISDAIN, as he barged through the office with his entourage of goons.

At a time when the firm’s top producers were lucky to break 30k per month, this bastard was bangin’ out $300,000. It got so crazy, he even forced out a broker in the office adjacent to his, in order to make room for more cold callers.

Good times, indeed.

The secret to his success, you ponder?

Often times he’d just yell and shout at his clients, in a very belligerent manner, as if they were adolescents who got caught playing hooky from school. One time he was overheard saying “YOU KNOW WHY I CAN DO THIS? BECAUSE I AM GHETTO FABULOUS, THAT’S WHY!” To everyone’s astonishment, that phone call resulted in a new account.

Obviously, he was a man with great honour [sic] and respect— for the streets. To this day, people who were there are still amazed by how much money he raised, using that sort of tone and unprofessional manner. After all, who the fuck relates to a guy who claims to be “ghetto fabulous”?

My take: it didn’t really matter what he said, since he was right on the markets. He could have went to his clients mansions, dressed in a fucking banana suit, and still raise $10 million dollars, providing he made them coin.

The story of Mr. Ghetto Fab ended badly, as you could imagine. However, before it did, two assistant branch managers resigned, due to Ghetto Fab’s insistence on wearing NY Knicks jerseys and sandals to work— on a Wednesday or Thursday—no matter. When the assistant branch managers asked Mr. Ghetto Fab to dress in a suit with tie, polished shoes, he’d reply: “go fuck yourself. I don’t take orders from you”—naturally.

How did the story end, you ponder?

He was caught smoking a fucking blunt, filled with marijuana, with his staff, in the front of the office building (very prestigious NYC landmark), at around 1pm. When confronted by the CEO, he replied “yeah I did it, now get the fuck out of my office.”

Shortly thereafter, kindly, he was asked to leave.

So goes the story of Mr. Ghetto Fabulous.

Two companies have chips that can detect the Swine Flu within hours.

CBMX, STM

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Indeud.

“The Fly” is triumphant. Let me say it once more: NEVER, and I mean NEVER, doubt my market hand again. You little shits come out of the woodworks, like small gremlins with toy pistols, whenever the market moves against me. I told you before, I will tell you again: “The Fly” wins all the time, even when he appears to be losing badly.

Let it be known, the glorious PPT has been printing fiat currency for its fortunate subscribers. People who listened, very quietly, to what Plutonium Petey— and his sidekick friends— had to say on iBC are now blessed with unearthly profits, almost as grande and prestigious as being an occupant inside of the famous, and distinguished, Gretzky House. Almost.

Over the course of this weekend, “The Fly” will spend time roaming his office, reminiscing over the weeks gains. In addition, he shall eat large quantities of mutton and guzzle down sweet ambrosia, housed in clay jugs.

My position is a winner. My gains today were “gicockulous”, spearheaded by massive NGAS purchases and a wildly successful PCX position.

CRE and the banks no longer lead the market. If you want to get in the market, and quit being a fucking loser, look to the commodity names for respite and oasis.

As for me, I shall continue to press the hot blade of death upon those who bet against me, with fierce virility. For those of you who followed my instructions, go eat a 2 1/2 inch thick rib eye—heavily salted, lightly peppered— in my honor. For the rest of you garbage eaters, fuck off.

I sold out of my entire position, around $7.80, for a 40% 1 week gain.

Indeud.

I bought 10,000 [[NGAS]] @ $2.10.

Fair Warning: An oldy and an assholes stock.

I bought 25,000 [[SD]] @ $8.85ish.

Disclaimer: If you buy SD because of this post, the government will force you to buy a shiny new Fiat. And, you may lose money.