The Important Matter of “Fly Goes Grocery Shopping”

It looked like she cut two holes in a heavy Korean blanket and draped it over her shoulders. She was a white female, age 60ish, and she was mentally ill, just in front of me at my local grocery store.

In a rush, I visited my local grocery store this weekend, in order to buy pastries. Normally, I’d prefer to visit a homeless shelter instead, since my local grocery store prides itself on selling bullshit food at insulting prices. However, being that I was in a rush, I tempered my emotions and went in. Quickly, I snapped up some cannolis and a few cookies and made my way over to the “cash only” line, as it was 1/10th as long as the others. See, I was clever and with lots of cash in hand. To be honest, I had a certain swagger to my step, as I stepped on the “all cash” line, looking down at the credit card wielding asshats to the left of me.

There was one woman in front of me, who had about 20 items in her cart. To my surprise, I noticed that she put two boxes of cotex on the conveyor belt. I took a keen interest only because she looked “old as fuck” and had no business buying cotex. However, I figured she was a nice old seahag, buying it for her daughter, or some shit.

Then all of a sudden, I noticed she was very chatty with the cashier, which is an early warning sign. Typically, people who talk to strangers are fucking lunatics, so I was on-guard. Then, she started debating the validity of each and every item scanned. Okay, you probably think I am exaggerating here. Let me repeat clearly, after each item was scanned, this crazy bitch questioned the authenticity of the price. I watched on in horror, as the credit card wielding losers to the left of me exited the store with great expedience.

Then the bat-shit hit the wall and the fan.

The gentleman cashier rang up the two boxes of cotex. Immediately, she blurted out “WHAT THE FUCK ARE YOU DOING?” Right away, my eyes darted towards her direction, amazed by her language, all done in front of kids and adults alike. She continued, “those aren’t mine. Take them off. How the fuck did that woman’s (referring to the person who was in front of her prior) order get mixed up with mine?”

Clearly she was lying, since I saw her unload the cotex, with my very own eyes, albeit they were shaded by the finest LUX has to offer.

The gentleman cashier erased the two transactions and attempted to continue to do his job, ringing up her shit. However, she had other plans for him. She furthered: “you only took it off once. You need to do it again.” He insisted they were removed; but she would not stop repeating “take if off again,” as if her brain was diseased by demons.

She elevated the debate, saying “I want to speak to your manager.”

By this time, I was livid, especially since I was egregiously late for my appointment. I was on line for about 15 minutes and this lunatic was trying to get over on this poor cashier for $3.50. But I held my tongue. I make it a point to avoid making scenes in public and try to reserve my own lunacy for private art auctions and crowded subway station platforms.

The manager came over, with an intense attitude,  all authoritarian and shit, and shut this bitch the fuck down. But, she was not finished, as it was time to review and study the fucking receipt.

As the gentleman cashier scanned my 10 items, I found myself rather snug, wedged between the person behind me and her (crazy blanket wearing bitch). Literally, she would not budge, no matter how uncomfortable my position appeared, for she had the all important task of finding egregious errors on her $31.00 worth of crap grocery ticket.

Then came the tipping point.

She reengaged the gentleman cashier for a little chitty-chat, asking him if he was absolutely certain that all of her items were placed in her cart. He replied, resolutely “yes M’am.”  Needless to say,  she was not convinced.

One thing you should know about me: I do not like people touching my things and I do not like people, as a rule of thumb.  Then, suddenly, things started to appear in slow motion for me (like Matrix), as this straight jacket candidate started to rummage throughout my bags, exclaiming “I just want to be sure none of my stuff is in here.”

I thundered with a loud baritone voice “AWAY FROM MY BAGS. You will find nothing of yours here.” Quickly, I snatched about 5 bags, with one hand, and threw them into my cart, with the same sort of demented mannerism that she was parading with pride for the past 20 minutes. I thrusted those fucking cannolis into my cart as if they insulted my Mother.

I could feel her eyes laser beam the back of my head, as she loudly exclaimed “YOU’RE A FUCKING ANIMAL.”

Lost for words, the only thing that came to mind, as I turned to her was “indeud.”

Indeud.

I want to make something perfectly clear, right now. I am trading like a fucking drone. I do not let my emotions get in the way of a little “idiot tape” trading action. If you are in the business, you know the dumbest guys (ghetto fabulous) make the most money during crazy runs. Naturally, they eventually blow themselves up on margin and have to start over again. But, for that small window of market bliss, they are fucking stock Gods. They are idiots because they do not know better. They take the craziest risks because they are brain dead and do not have fear.

Well, I have completely and entirely cast aside the emotion of fear, so that I too can trade like a fucking imbecile, with great success and splendour [sic]. I am magnitudes smarter than 99.9% of all of you. If I can do it, so can you. It’s the thinking, the fucking second guessing, that refrains people from swinging their balls around freely. You need to understand where I am coming from. I swing in and out of large cash positions to placate my inner brain. I know there are risks associated with dropping millions into stocks that are already up huge. Had I taken the time to worry about it, I’d be sucking wind right now, just like some of you trash collectors. Another big mistake some of you make is buying ancillary names, hoping to find value. Instead of waiting around for something wonderful to happen, take the bull by the horns and smash it into a fucking wall. Using that mindset, I am heavily long AGU and MOS.

Enough of the preachy bullshit. I have business to attend to. Oh, by the way, remind me to tell you what happened to me at the supermarket this weekend, waiting in line behind this mentally ill bitch.

Top picks: ATPG, AGU, BRNC, MOS

NOTE: Introducing iBC newest tabbed blogger, Analyst Bomber

Progressing with my plan to “SPEND ALL AVAILABLE CASH,” I bought 10,000 AGU and a little BRNC.

UPDATE: I bought 5,000 ATPG

Disclaimer: If you buy the above stocks because of this post, your house will become haunted by idiot ghosts. And, you may lose money.

Fuck your vest. Today’s bullet is heading straight for your head. As that happens, “The Fly” will be burning his incense, making sacrifices to the stock Gods—things of that nature. You know, your regular run of the mill shit. Cold callers will be slapped in the face, profusely, with boiling hot slices of pizza. No matter how hot the pizza is served, it can always be hotter. I like my pizza to resemble a fucking volcano.

Ahead of the planting season, farmers will be returning to full applications of potash fertilizer, in order to maximize yields. Think about it. If you were a dumbass farmer, and shit, you’d be halfway retarded if you didn’t take advantage of these lofty grain levels. Based upon that assumption, I like POT, CF, SQM and MOS. There are ancillary plays worth a look. However, sometimes it makes sense to go with the obvious, instead of trying to get all cute and shit.

Stay focused here. I don’t want you to wander off, fucking around with goats. There is a lot of money to be made here. You just need to believe. Like organized religion, more specifically the immature innocence of believing in magical creators, to be invested (both mentally and physically) in this market, you need to have faith. Faith in the oddity and the surreal. Your text books mean nothing here, Sir, as we are writing new ones from scratch. The relationship between people and money is a very important one. Your happiness, in more ways than you could imagine, depends on it. Having said that, why the fuck would you visit any other website, other than iBankCoin? My competition can’t hold a candle to me, let alone shine my shoes. Those fuckers aren’t worth the marinara off my bread.

I mentioned this earlier today. I wanted to follow up. Inside of my Raw Commodity Index, I track everything possible, via ETF’s. From lead to tin to fucking cattle, it’s represented by this index. Now go ahead and take a looksy at the chart and tell me where it says “top.”

Disclosure: Fuck you and your charts.

Double Disclosure: MOS has $10 bucks in upside, near term.

Well, January is in the books and it looks like I made 1.5% for managed accounts and 4% for my personal/psychopath account. So you know, my other long term accounts are manged identically to managed. All in all, January was a disappointment for me. But, it could have been worse. The market churned a lot, scaring the shit out of people in the process. Volatility re-emerged, taking numerous momentum stocks to the woodshed.

My muted gains can be blamed on my MOTR-boat expedition. But, I am not one to complain.

Going into February, I am positioned to take advantage of the inflation trade. Seasonally, February is a good month to be long oil, gold and ag. Let’s see if history repeats itself.

Closing out the day, I held a 20% cash position.

I bought 10,000 MOS, based upon the laws of magic.

Disclaimer: If you buy MOS because of this post, small trolls will kill you while you sleep. And, you may lose money.

People sold short NFLX at $30, as it hit new highs. The stock defied gravity and proceeded to pass $40, $50, $60, $70, all the way to $215. People shorted it, and got “retard boxed,” all the way up. For some reason, they thought it couldn’t go higher. They used astrology, charts and anecdotal evidence to support their flawed reasoning. However, all they should have looked at is price action.

Inside of The PPT, I set up a Raw Commodity Index, in order to track commodities (duh). Despite the pullback in gold/silver (oh, the carnage), it’s at all time highs. Whether it be oil, cotton or sugar, commodities are on the rise. Now, if I said it was going to top everyday, eventually, I’d be right. But the fact remains, there is a global movement here, pushing commodity prices higher. Every single BBQing of my accounts was due to trying to time tops. In order to pull it off, you need to be insane and very, very lucky.

Oil is pressing higher here. If there was ever an excuse to kill shorts, stuck inside oil stocks, it is now. Because of this relationship between destiny and the bears, I’ve positioned heavily in several small commodity names. It’s very possible that the trend will reverse and I might get stopped out of my positions. However, it won’t happen because I was defying the laws of The Clam.

Ask yourself a question: am I defying the laws of the Bearded Clam (Ben Bernanke)?

Top picks: EXK, GTE, KEG

As you can see, Ben Bernanke has seized control of Washington D.C. and has enacted a policy of perpetual stock market increases, whilst encouraging rapid commodity inflation in order to overthrow rogue regimes, worldwide. This plan is working wonders in the middle east today, as their stock markets melt-the-fuck-down and their governments crumble, under the weight of expensive bags of rice.

Back home, here in the U.S., cowards with small dicks sell short stocks and/or buy leveraged ETF’s that go lower, all the time. They claim to have timed the top, yet again. But, there is no such thing, especially since Ben Bernanake removed the ceilings.

With my money, I am concentrated inside of a few positions, namely BORN, EXK, KEG, GTE and AMKR. I intend to allocate some of my cash today, but not just yet. In the big scheme of things, there is no rush. Money will be made, all in good order. The important aspect of the winning process is to savor it, drink it slowly. Your enemies will run around like jackals in the night; but they are stupid and do not have GPS tracking devices.

Young plebs, volatility is collapsing and your name will be remembered, etched in granite, blood removed and limbs dispersed to the darkest corners of the earth.