TradurrThis is the hall of fame. The Tradurr the house was built to seat. The perma bear has been about to be right since 2013. He called the top in 2017, 2021, last Tuesday, and your birthday. Every rally is a dead cat bounce, which is wild, because that cat has more lives than his brokerage password.
He does not want to make money. He wants to be the smartest person at the funeral. He will fade a melt-up, get squeezed into next week, then post a forty-seven tweet thread about how the squeeze proves the collapse. His portfolio is eighty percent cash, fifteen percent puts that expired, and five percent smugness he cannot mark to market.
The RSVP
The funeral keeps getting postponed. He RSVPs anyway. He has a dark suit that has never been to an actual death and has attended a thousand metaphorical ones. If the market ever actually dies, he still will not be happy. He will say it should have happened sooner and the bounce is fake.
Being early is his entire personality. Early is a kindness he does for himself. It converts a missed decade into a brand. It converts rent paid to a rally into wisdom. It converts a put that expired into a prophecy the world was too mid to hear.
A diagnostic
If your model of the world can only pay you when everyone else is ruined, you do not have a model. You have a grudge with a ticker. Grudges do not have a stop. Grudges have a newsletter.
Down is allowed. Down is even useful. Down as identity is how a person becomes a gargoyle on a building that refuses to fall. We keep the extra chair for him. Especially him. Sit down. The cat is not dead. You are just tired, and tired is not a print.
— Callie Margin, who will still take your short, size permitting