Game of Thrones Review: STFU Sam Tarly

Since this is the last season of Game of Thrones, one of my favorite shows of all-time, I decided to do reviews for all six episodes this year — as we march, ever so slowly — into the fiefdom of the one and true rightful Ruler of the Seven Kingdoms — The Night King.

I was thoroughly pleased with the episode — in spite of the obvious fan service with that extended and non-sensical dragon ride with John Snow and Mother of All Dragons. It should be noted, that dragon was eye-fucking John because it knows that he is, in fact, a Targaryen.

And that was the big reveal last night, in the crypt by fuckhead Sam Tarly — at the behest of John’s psychopathic psychic brother –Bran. He told John that his real father was Rhaegar Targaryen and that his real name was Aegon Targaryen. Really? Do you have a fucking 23 and Me DNA test to prove this Sam? He goes on to tell John that Daenerys Targaryen, aka Mother of Dragons, should bend the knee to him — since he’s the true and rightful heir to the Iron Throne.She also executed Sam’s entire family — making him head of his House. Are we really entertaining this Sam — as the army of the dead marches on Winterfell? Does it really fucking matter who sits on the god damned Iron Throne, Sam? And what is John supposed to say — “oh, by the way, fuckers — I’m not a Stark, but a Targaryen, because my boy Sam here told me — so yeah — I’m Captain now.”

No.

As for the north, they’re being real salty with the foreign armies. I picked up on a racist undertone and would not be surprised if HBO threw in some Make Winterfell Great Again hats — with the citizens asking for a new wall to keep out all of the foreign riff-raff.

Sansa doesn’t like Daenerys, because she’s a bitch and is power hungry and jealous. Arya met the Hound for the first time since she left him for dead and, although they didn’t hug it out and jerk each other off, you could tell they had a mutual respect for one another. Speaking of which, Cersei has no respect for herself — whoring herself to that moron Euron in exchange for his retarded army — who will get destroyed this season — mark my words.

Theon, finally, grew a pair of balls and rescued his sister, Yara. Theon is off to fight for House Stark, while she will go retake The Iron Islands.

Tormund Giantsbane and the Lord of Light fuckers were out recklessly looking for trouble and discovered that the Army of the Dead were already passed them en route to Winterfell. How stupid of them to be out on a mission of their own — whilst hordes of zombies were out and about.

Long story short, and this goes without saying, Winterfell is about to get BTFO and I suspect the vast majority of the Northern Army will be destroyed, with remnants fleeing to the Iron Islands and perhaps further south. Eventually, I believe the last stand will be at King’s Landing — where Cersei will maniacally betray her fellow humans beings and The Hound, once and for all, will put an end to his Frankenstein brother — The Mountain.

I suspect Petyr Baelish is still alive, having faked his death last season and Jamie Lannister is the lynchpin between the Northern and Southern armies. While everyone is focused on John and Daenerys — the only person in a position to rule King’s Landing with authority is Jamie, the fucking “King Slayer.” The show ended with Bran, “waiting for an old friend”, locking eyes with Jamie. The last time the two saw each other was when Bran caught Jamie having intimate relations with Cersei, his god damned sister, and Jamie threw him off a cliff — making him a cripple. Their discussion should be interesting in episode 2, but I suspect Bran is in autism mode and will just prattle on about the Army of the Dead marching fast and how Jamie needs to save the day somehow.

Long Jamie Lannister, short Sam Tarly.

I know people who make $700k per annum and don’t have any money saved in the bank. I know a secretary who makes $70k per annum and has $1.3m in the market. I know a financial advisor who loses $30k per month in option trades per month. And I know this great big fucking house near the shore, gorgeous views, that can be yours for only $2,000 per sq ft.

Spending money is in our blood. We’ve been programmed since we were young to praise and adore those who flaunted their wealth. Even in classic literature — fuckers like The Count of Monte Cristo and The Great Gatsby were spendthrifts, the very definition of new money behaving badly. In real life both authors of those books, Alexander Dumas and F. Scott Fitzgerald spent every penny they made — partying, living lavishing, not really giving a fuck about the future.

Look, with the winnings from Monte Cristo — Dumas went out and built Château de Monte-Cristo — like a moron — spiraling head first into insolvency.

Bought for by The Count of Monte Cristo, House Dumas

In the wonderful examination of Sir Winston Churchill’s finances in No More Champagne, readers learn that Winston, hailing from 20 generations of wealthy aristocrats in England, born into a lavish lifestyle that makes the fuckers from Downton Abbey look impoverished, was essentially broke towards the latter part of his life — thanks to his incredulous drinking regimen and proclivity for the finer things in life. Sadly, poor Winston needed to write book after book just to keep the lights on — post world war 2. Lucky for him, he was an incredible writer.

Churchill’s childhood “home”

I, like you, am not without sin. I do enjoy the finer things in life too — cashmere sweaters, Italian leather shoes, fancy cars, big ass house — and I can tell you, now with the benefit of introspection and hindsight — none of that shit made me happy. I used to venture off into the city with thousands of dollars in my pocket — rolls of money so big — they couldn’t fit in my pants. I needed other people to hold my money for me. I’d hire a private driver for the night, buy drinks for everyone, expensive dinners, tip people like I just won the lottery, and often return home with just a handful of crinkled hundreds left in my pocket. It was just about the dumbest shit I ever did. Granted, I bought fond memories and anyone who knew me back then probably thought I had a billion dollar trust fund. Truth is, I was reckless and saw my income as something so large that I could afford to spend a little — in an effort to purchase, mind you, happiness.

Life is unpredictable and your income isn’t a certainty. The only thing that is tangible is the amount of money in your accounts — the risk analysis being done to ensure it grows or maintains a steady trajectory.

I’m not suggesting you live the life of a miser, clip coupons, and deny yourself pleasures that make your life enjoyable. I am talking about superfluous spending — the sojourn to Hermes or the new fuckhead Rolex watch that you think you must have — or perhaps a house so big — you’d need the entire family to stay over just to fill it up. Fuck all of that and trust me when I tell you — it will not buy you happiness.

You know what will buy you happiness? Having saved enough money to set up a foundation or a charity for a cause or to finance the education and needs of your family 2,3,10 generations from now. Doing things that live beyond your physical years on this forsaken shithole of a planet. Going to the mall and blowing $2k on nonsense that you won’t wear 1 year from now is a fucking crime and in a perfect world you’d be arrested and imprisoned for it. They don’t want you to make it. Prove them wrong, fuckers.

How do I stop you people from killing your accounts? Why, after 12 years a slave on this site, do you continue to email me about blowing out your accounts through some fucked up gambits in the market?

What you’re doing in the market — taking on high risk stratagems in options, futures, and in margin accounts, is equal to going to the local liquor store and buying lottery tickets. You’re never going to win — trading that way. You’re being weakened by the allure of money and you think said money will make you happy — because of the highlight reels on social media and the absolute horseshit seen on teevee. I’m not here to crush your spirit and take away your aspirations — instead I propose that you stop blowing up your accounts.

Is that fair?

If you have any positions greater than 15% in size — reduce them. If you took all of your positions and separated them by sector — would they look like the cross section of the S&P 500?

Are you holding onto losers for the sake of holding them? Laziness and sloth is a sin you know.

A younger Fly used to preside over these internets a long time ago and drive cars filled with dynamite sticks into hard, red, brick walls. Those days are, more or less, over. Now my days are spent dealing with website technical issues and fielding emails from braintards who keep blowing out of the market, in the midst of the greatest bull run ever.

Tomorrow I’ll post some actionable ideas and provide some insight into the present market. But, for the love of God, can you stop fucking taking outsized bets you idiotic bastards?

Happy Saturday!

Junk bonds are rallying. Yields are heading back up again. WTI is fucking soaring. Nothing can stop us now from reaching new highs — nothing at all.

Upside market breadth was just 61% today, but the underpinnings are strong and the blood of the bears is just within reach now. I will have you know, I decided to hold my doubled sized position in PHUN over the weekend. Normally a reckless move with too many variables — but I’m feeling adventurous.

Speaking of which, now is not the time to buy FANG stocks — you fucking idiots. Dial up the risk and take man sized positions in manly stocks. Lower your priggish bar and discard the cerements of your nonsensical rules — and follow the price action.

See oil run? Buy oil.

Chinese burritos on the move? Eat one.

See something — kill something — eat something.

Have a great weekend.

I bought PHUN earlier today and made the cardinal sin of walking away to do something. It’s a nice Friday and I wanted to GET OUT OF THE FUCKING HOUSE. This is a god damned prison.

Upon coming back I bore witness to a horrible crime — PHUN sharply lower and reversing like a motherfucker. The obvious choice to sell is, well, obvious. Cut losses — eat a dick — yada yada yada. Or, I could Martingale this fucker and keep buying until I make money in the damned thing. I used to implement these strategies when I ran other people’s money and had unlimited buying power.

So, I opted for the latter — bought more, doubled down, and reduced my basis to $8.67.

WISH ME LUCK.

The fuck sort of roaring rally is this — the type where shit just trades lower? I’ve hardly got gains here. Let me attempt to remedy this situation.

I delved into the Permian Basin and bought some CPE — which I expect to move next week. And for an intra-day gambool — I bought PHUN. Don’t ask. I know — huge piece of shit. Fuck off.

I am going to try to get through this post without delving off into unnecessary prose and just give you the flat unvarnished facts.

CVX for APC with a 35% kicked. Massive news for the oil patch. This is a deal valued at $33b. Big oil does not invest like this, lest they feel strongly about present pricing for WTI. On that note, WTI is higher by another 1.4% this morning, edging towards $65. Trust me when I tell you — get long the frackers — SLCA, EMES, TUSK, FRAC, SND, HCLP etc.

Both JP Morgan and WFC are up sharply on better than expected results.

Lastly, and this goes without saying, markets do not drop on Friday’s.

Happy trading.

Back in 1969, a team of really creative Americans ventured off on a LIVE broadcast traveling to the fucking moon — armed with a calculator and tinned foil. It has been 47 years since we strolled on the moon, opting to waste our money on other things — such as sex changes for prisoners and useless aircraft carriers to extend the dicks of all Americans across the globe.

Enter 2019 — armed with all of the finest technology they could steal from America — Israel attempted to send a spacecraft to the moon and got BTFO.

A small spacecraft that has captured the imagination and excitement of people in Israel and around the world appears to have crashed into the moon on Thursday.

“We had a failure in the spacecraft,” Opher Doron, the general manager of Israel Aerospace Industries’ space division, which collaborated on building the spacecraft, said afterward. “We unfortunately have not managed to land successfully.”

The mood at the command center was somber but still celebratory.

“Well we didn’t make it, but we definitely tried,” said Morris Kahn, an Israeli telecommunications entrepreneur and president of SpaceIL, the nonprofit that undertook the mission. “And I think the achievement of getting to where we got is really tremendous. I think we can be proud.”

MoonFAGS will say this was a success. Others might say it was a fiction. One thing is for certain, no one has ever set foot on the moon, aside from us incredible Americans and no one seems to know how to get back there. It’s a damned shame all of the telemetry data from 1969 was destroyed, otherwise we might have something to really look at and enjoy… all of those wonderful moon rocks brought back from there — made from fucking brass.

Looks so real. Wonder why Israel didn't arm their cartoon spacecraft with a live fucking feed pic.twitter.com/LvNW8g9FoU

— The_Real_Fly (@The_Real_Fly) April 12, 2019

Fucking busy — fuck off.

New highs — nice breakout. Break a leg.