I get too excited. When shorting stocks or going long, I tend to get, shall we say “overly dramatic” on occasion, which inevitably leads to thorough annihilation. Granted, I did not buy into today’s hype; but I should have sold. On Jupiter’s stone, this fucking market is broken and is dismantled by men in burlap dresses.
Tech names are being shredded, based upon nothing. It’s quite laughable. But then again, it isn’t a game.
Commodity stocks have reversed and are getting smashed into microscopic pieces. Apparently, Mother Market isn’t pleased with plain ol’ small anymore.
Like I said last night, the market has one or two really bad days left in it, before a sharp bounce. Much to my chagrin, this mornings GDP data got me all excited. I was walking around the office, all huffy and puffy and shit—throwing lit cigars at the men and glasses of orange juice on the ladies. For me to sit here, in my luxurious chair, and tell you “go eat a sandwich” would be a lie.
You should not be eating anything when your fucking net worth is being dismantled by men in burlap mini skirts, unless of course we’re talking triple bacon cheeseburger with a fried egg on top.
Maybe JAKEGINT was right, when he said “the market needs the dollar to get clown raped by hamburglar impersonators, before this motherfucker can go higher again, son.”
Perhaps.
All I know at the moment is pain. Not Clubber Lang, knock you out in the 2nd round, take your fucking belt and steal your woman pain; but instead, Ivan Drago, I will break your face with one punch then shame your entire country with your loss calamity pain.
Stocks are most certainly for asshats only
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