iBankCoin
18 years in Wall Street, left after finding out it was all horseshit. Founder/ Master and Commander: iBankCoin, finance news and commentary from the future.
Joined Nov 10, 2007
21,317 Blog Posts

UPDATED: Bears Waiting For a Charlie Horse

UPDATE: Charlie Meatballs’ daily “fuck you, you’re dead” report was benign.

In other news, that Wisdom Tree commercial, regarding their Indian ETF, is starting to get on my fucking nerves.

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Fly Buy’s: FXP, UDN, GFI

I bought 3,000 [[FXP]] @ $81.50, 1,000 [[UDN]] @ $28.50 and 5,000 [[GFI]] @ $14.40.

Disclaimer: If you buy the above stocks, you too will become a mirror of the market trend. And, you may lose money.

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I’m Betting Against Myself

As you know, in my previous rant, I declared the “death of the bear market,” thanks to the amazing losses at [[FNM]].

However, it’s worth noting, thus far I’ve done little to act upon such sage advice. As a matter of fact, I’ve initiated a trading position, going short the dollar, via [[UDN]].

Keep in mind, “The Fly” is much, much smarter than you and the market. Therefore, he wins, a lot.

So, in essence, I’ve done nothing more than talk shit, hoping that my words would serve as a contrarian indicator, enabling me to win—in real life. A very tricky, yet intricate, plan indeed.

Nonetheless, I intend to bank profuse amounts of coin, through misdirection and mixed messages, via buying a selling a variety of ridiculous instruments.

You might be saying to yourself: “What the fuck is this asshole talking about”?

To you, I reply: “Exactly, watch me execute ‘magic tricks,’ right in front of your face.”

With my money, I’ve decided to open up a variety of positions, namely [[UDN]], [[GFI]] and [[FXP]].

On the day, I’m down less than $1,000 or 0.00001%

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The Bear Market is Over, For Now

So sorry to inform you, at this late juncture, but the retardedly gay bear market we’ve kind of enjoyed is officially over, much to my chagrin.

[[FNM]] loses 3.6 billion for the quarter, yet the stock rips higher on an egregious decision to let them fuck up even more.

No matter what the news is, good, bad or indifferent, the market rips higher.

So, until we see clear signs of a breakdown, I will no longer throw good money after bad, trying to benefit from some sort of cataclysmic event. It’s not happening.

After all, we’ve got a myriad of problems, yet the market does not care. I’m not interested in your fucking conspiracy theories or opinions as to why we are gapping higher everyday. All I care about is where my stocks are trading. For the most part, all of my longs are melting up, while my shorts melt away.

While it’s true this could be a great entry point on some shorts, I see no evidence to suggest sentiment will change, anytime soon. Without a doubt, the market will go lower, eventually, just not now.

My initial approach will not be rushed. I will not cover all of my shorts, right away. Instead, I will immediately increase my long positions, in order to hedge against my overweighted shorts. Then, as price permits, I will scale out of some of my more unsavory short bets, and reallocate the assets accordingly.

My long positions will increase my exposure to the energy creation market and select basic resource plays, and commodities.

More on this later.

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The Important Matter of Inflation

I just got back from dinner. I had a grand ol’ time, with grilled steaks and potatoes to nosh on, while drinking excessive amounts of Bordeaux.

I lived it up, mind you. While at dinner, “The Fly” exclaimed (using a hand gesture): “2 1/2 inch rib eyes for all,” as if they grew on trees. At this small, but high end, restaurant, people referred to me as “The Santa Claus of Steaks.”

Being in a generous mood, I ordered several rounds of poor people beer, for the wolves at the bar. I even let my guests order a giant chocolate cake for dessert.

Feeling good, despite recent market chro-bars to the cranium, I was pleased to be tagged “Santa Claus of Steaks,” being that everyone seemed so hungry at this restaurant.

However, and I do mean however, once the bill came I was somewhat vexed. The grand total for my charitable acts amounted to an absurd $1,333.06.

I shouted to the waiter: “How dare you approach me with such lies. If this were medieval times and I were King, I’d have your head removed from your neck for such an affront. Go fetch me another bill.”

The young waiter replied: “Yes, Sir,” and went to discuss matters with his manager.

Feeling as if I had just defeated this young aspiring actor, I ordered another round of whiskey for my party. Things were looking up, yet again.

However, and I do mean however, this young insolent fool re-approached my table of “steak and honor” and handed me an even more egregious bill.

He exclaimed: “So sorry, Sir. I forgot to add our 25% gratuity. Your new bill is $1,666.33. Will you be paying with cash or credit”?

I stood up with great emotion and determination, stating: “What’s the meaning of this? I demand a thorough explanation. I’ve been a customer of this shit house for 10 years. I’ve never had a bill so erroneously high.”

He shot back, with a sarcastic tone to his voice: “Inflation.”

Feeling defeated and desperate (I cannot believe what I’m about to tell you), I replied: “But, but Dennis Kneale says inflation is a figment of my imagination. It’s backward looking after all. I refuse to acknowledge your costs.”

By then, people throughout the establishment were looking at me strangely, with the exception to the wolves at the bar—who encouraged me to “punch him (the waiter) in the fucking face.”

So, being the man of honour [sic] that I am, I paid the bastard of a bill and “accidentally” broke a few glasses, prior to leaving my “table of steak and honor.”

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Off to Dinner

Oooh this fucking rally has infuriated me to the point of sheer violence. Throughout the day, I broke two monitors, threw 9 bagels at my trader/servant and severed the photographic heads of 22 Gasparino pictures.

Sure, shit is bullish for the markets. We have gapping oil, wheat, corn, soy, natural gas, heating oil and sugar prices. We don’t need any of that shit. Just as long as [[ABK]] and [[MBI]] can get some love from the BANKING FOOLS, everything is sweet—like golden creamed corn.

Personally, I could care less about new home starts or “growth” in the economy. Frankly, I’m perfectly content with poor people living their pathetic lives out in dire boredom, subject to repetitive [[WMT]] “shopping sprees” and vacations to [[SIX]].

With the money I stole back from the homeless guys from yesterday, I will stand tall and sell to lowly people, like Dennis Kneale or James Cramer.

I could give two shits and a gay goat about your fucking charts or “new breakout plays.”

“The Fly” has his own agenda, which doesn’t include having his head lit aflame in erroneous [[SRS]] or [[SKF]] positions.

Until my ridiculous, but definitely pending, revenge punches out the teeth of Sam Zell, when dining out, I will send back the first dish served, in protest of this egregiously poor recession, telling the waiter: “Go cook this with more fervor. Next time I will not be so kind.”

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