Twoo87

@RJCcapital @grok if this is true- is this positive or negtive News for $AAOI and $LITE ? I think positive

[DigiTimes]: China approves first exports of Indium Phosphide (InP) substrate in 2026 which should help alleviate bottlenecks in the optical communications market. Very bullish development for $AXTI digitimes.com.tw/tech/dt/n/shwn…

@sunxliao $AAOI pls

$QQQ 9/9 bullish confirms (4H). Looks like we can get bullish continuation next week if it can break that gold zone resistanc. A lot of turbulence around the $SPCX IPO but this is the main thing I'm watching for right now. Taking all chart requests this weekend... let me know what you wanna see!

I lost my dad 8 years ago. You think you’re prepared. You’re not. Now my mom is 87, and in the last year I’ve watched her decline in ways I never wanted to see. It’s a quiet kind of heartbreak. Not dramatic. Just real. Here’s the truth no one really tells you: When your mom and dad are gone, something fundamental shifts. The ceiling of your life disappears. The people who knew you before the world touched you... they’re not there anymore. And nothing feels the same after that. Absolutely nothing. So if you still have them, even if it’s complicated, even if it’s imperfect, value the time. Call them. Visit. Sit in the silence. Ask the questions you think you have time to ask later. Later is not guaranteed. One day you’ll wish for one more conversation. Don’t wait for that day to understand what you had.

I drive Uber. Night shift mostly. Last week picked up an old man at 11 PM. He got in and said: "I need you to drive me to five places tonight. I'll pay you $500. Cash. But you can't ask why until we're done." Handed me five addresses. First stop: a house in the suburbs. He sat in the car. Stared at it for ten minutes. Crying silently. "Okay. Next one." I drove. Second stop: elementary school. Empty. Dark. He got out. Walked to the playground. Sat on a swing. Stayed there twenty minutes. Came back to the car. "I taught here. 43 years. Best job I ever had." Third stop: diner. He went inside. Ordered coffee. Sat alone in a booth. Didn't drink it. Just sat. Looking around. Fifteen minutes. Came back. "My wife and I had our first date here. 1967." Fourth stop: cemetery. He got out at the cemetery. Walked to a grave. Stood there. Talking to it. Couldn't hear what he said. Thirty minutes. When he came back his eyes were red. "My wife. Three years today." Fifth stop: hospital. He asked me to park. Wait. "This is the last one." He looked at me. "Now I'll tell you why. I have stage four cancer. Weeks left. Maybe days. Tonight I wanted to see my whole life. One last time. Before I can't anymore." I started crying. Right there. "The house - that's where I raised my kids. The school - where I found my purpose. The diner - where I fell in love. The cemetery - where I said goodbye. And here. The hospital. Where I'm checking in tonight. Hospice floor. I'm not going home." He handed me $500. "Thank you for driving me through my life. You're the last stranger who'll ever be kind to me. I wanted it to be gentle. You made it gentle." I refused the money. "I can't take this." He insisted. "Please. I have nobody to leave it to. My kids don't talk to me. I have no friends left. You gave me three hours of kindness. That's worth more than $500 to me." He got out. Grabbed his small suitcase. Turned back. "What's your name?" "Marcus." "Thank you, Marcus. For being the last good thing." He walked into the hospital. I sat in my car. Sobbing. For an hour. Couldn't stop thinking about him. Went back next day. Asked for him. "Mr. Patterson. Room 412." Brought flowers. Knocked. He was in bed. Smiled when he saw me. "Marcus. You came back." "Couldn't leave it like that. Are you okay?" "Dying. But I got to see my life last night. So yes. I'm okay." We talked for two hours. About his wife. His students. The kids who stopped calling. The life he lived. I visited every day for two weeks. Brought coffee. Read him the news. Sat in silence sometimes. He told me everything. The regrets. The joys. The moments he'd relive. "I thought I'd die alone," he said one day. "But you're here. A stranger who became family in my last days. That's a gift." I held his hand. "You're not dying alone. Not anymore." He cried. "Thank you for seeing me. When I was invisible." Mr. Patterson died on a Tuesday. 3:17 AM. I was there. Holding his hand. His last words: "Tell people. Tell them to look at strangers. Really look. Everyone's dying. Some faster than others. But we're all heading somewhere. Be kind on the way. You were kind. You saved my last days." He closed his eyes. Heart monitor flatlined. I stayed another hour. Couldn't let go. He died with someone. That mattered. His funeral had six people. Me. Three nurses. A lawyer. One former student who saw the obituary. That's it. A man who taught for 43 years. Loved a woman for 52. Lived 81 years. Six people. I spoke. "Mr. Patterson taught me something in his last two weeks. Every stranger is someone's whole world. Every Uber passenger has a story. Every person you pass is living and dying and hoping someone sees them. He paid me $500 to drive him through his life. But he gave me something worth more. The knowledge that kindness to strangers isn't extra. It's everything. Because we're all strangers. Until someone stops. Looks. Listens. Stays." I keep the $500 in my glove box. Never spent it. It's a reminder.

WARREN BUFFETT JUST SENT WHAT COULD BE HIS LAST MESSAGE TO BERKSHIRE HATHAWAY $BRK.B SHAREHOLDERS AS CEO OF THE COMPANY Here is the full and entire 8 page press release Warren Buffett just released ⬇️⬇️ To My Fellow Shareholders: I will no longer be writing Berkshire’s annual report or talking endlessly at the annual meeting. As the British would say, I’m “going quiet.” Sort of. Greg Abel will become the boss at yearend. He is a great manager, a tireless worker and an honest communicator. Wish him an extended tenure. I will continue talking to you and my children about Berkshire via my annual Thanksgiving message. Berkshire’s individual shareholders are a very special group who are unusually generous in sharing their gains with others less fortunate. I enjoy the chance to keep in touch with you. Indulge me this year as I first reminisce a bit. After that, I will discuss the plans for distribution of my Berkshire shares. Finally, I will offer a few business and personal observations. * * * * * * * * * * * * As Thanksgiving approaches, I’m grateful and surprised by my luck in being alive at 95. When I was young, this outcome did not look like a good bet. Early on, I nearly died. It was 1938 and Omaha hospitals were then thought of by its citizens as either Catholic or Protestant, a classification that seemed natural at the time. Our family doctor, Harley Hotz, was a friendly Catholic who made house calls toting a black bag. Dr. Hotz called me Skipper and never charged much for his visits. When I experienced a bad bellyache in 1938, Dr. Hotz came by and, after probing a bit, told me I would be OK in the morning. He then went home, had dinner and played a little bridge. Dr. Hotz couldn’t, however, get my somewhat peculiar symptoms out of his mind and later that night he dispatched me to St. Catherine’s Hospital for an emergency appendectomy. During the next three weeks, I felt like I was in a nunnery, and began enjoying my new “podium.” I liked to talk – yes, even then – and the nuns embraced me. To top things off, Miss Madsen, my third-grade teacher, told my 30 classmates to each write me a letter. I probably threw away the letters from the boys but read and reread those from the girls; hospitalization had its rewards. The highlight of my recovery – which actually was dicey for much of the first week – was a gift from my wonderful Aunt Edie. She brought me a very professional-looking fingerprinting set, and I promptly fingerprinted all of my attending nuns. (I was probably the first Protestant kid they had seen at St. Catherine’s and they didn’t know what to expect.) My theory – totally nutty, of course – was that someday a nun would go bad and the FBI would find that they had neglected to fingerprint nuns. The FBI and its director, J. Edgar Hoover, had become revered by Americans in the 1930s, and I envisioned Mr. Hoover, himself, coming to Omaha to inspect my invaluable collection. I further fantasized that J. Edgar and I would quickly identify and apprehend the wayward nun. National fame seemed certain. Obviously, my fantasy never materialized. But, ironically, some years later it became clear that I should have fingerprinted J. Edgar himself as he became disgraced for misusing his post. Well, that was Omaha in the 1930s, when a sled, a bicycle, a baseball glove and an electric train were coveted by me and my friends. Let’s look at a few other kids from that era, who grew up very nearby and greatly influenced my life but of whom I was for long unaware. I’ll begin with Charlie Munger, my best pal for 64 years. In the 1930s, Charlie lived a block away from the house I have owned and occupied since 1958. Early on, I missed befriending Charlie by a whisker. Charlie, 6 ⅔ years older than I, worked in the summer of 1940 at my grandfather’s grocery store, earning $2 for a 10-hour day. (Thrift runs deep in Buffett blood.) The following year I did similar work at the store, but I never met Charlie until 1959 when he was 35 and I was 28. After serving in World War II, Charlie graduated from Harvard Law and then moved permanently to California. Charlie, however, forever talked of his early years in Omaha as formative. For more than 60 years, Charlie had a huge impact on me and could not have been a better teacher and protective “big brother.” We had differences but never had an argument. “I told you so” was not in his vocabulary. In 1958, I bought my first and only home. Of course, it was in Omaha, located about two miles from where I grew up (loosely defined), less than two blocks from my in-laws, about six blocks from the Buffett grocery store and a 6-7-minute drive from the office building where I have worked for 64 years. Let’s move on to another Omahan, Stan Lipsey. Stan sold the Omaha Sun Newspapers (weeklies) to Berkshire in 1968 and a decade later moved to Buffalo at my request. The Buffalo Evening News, owned by a Berkshire affiliate, was then locked in a battle to the death with its morning competitor who published Buffalo’s only Sunday paper. And we were losing. Stan eventually built our new Sunday product, and for some years our paper – formerly hemorrhaging cash – earned over 100% annually (pre-tax) on our $33 million investment. This was important money to Berkshire in the early 1980s. Stan grew up about five blocks from my home. One of Stan’s neighbors was Walter Scott, Jr. Walter, you will remember, brought MidAmerican Energy to Berkshire in 1999. He was also a valued Berkshire director until his death in 2021 and a very close friend. Walter was Nebraska’s philanthropic leader for decades and both Omaha and the state carries his imprint. Walter attended Benson High School, which I was scheduled to attend as well – until my dad surprised everyone in 1942 by beating a four-term incumbent in a Congressional race. Life is full of surprises. Wait, there’s more. In 1959, Don Keough and his young family lived in a home located directly across the street from my house and about 100 yards away from where the Munger family had lived. Don was then a coffee salesman but was destined to become president of Coca-Cola as well as a devoted director of Berkshire. When I met Don, he was earning $12,000 a year while he and his wife Mickie were raising five children, all destined for Catholic schools (with tuition requirements). Our families became fast friends. Don came from a farm in northwest Iowa and graduated from Omaha’s Creighton University. Early on, he married Mickie, an Omaha girl. After joining Coke, Don went on to become legendary around the globe. In 1985, when Don was president of Coke, the company launched its ill-fated New Coke. Don made a famous speech in which he apologized to the public and reinstated “Old” Coke. This change of heart took place after Don explained that Coke incoming mail addressed to “Supreme Idiot” was promptly delivered to his desk. His “withdrawal” speech is a classic and can be viewed on YouTube. He cheerfully acknowledged that, in truth, the Coca-Cola product belonged to the public and not to the company. Sales subsequently soared. You can watch Don on CharlieRose(.)com in a wonderful interview. (Tom Murphy and Kay Graham have a couple of gems as well.) Like Charlie Munger, Don forever remained a Midwestern boy, enthusiastic, friendly and American to the core. Finally, Ajit Jain, born and raised in India, as well as Greg Abel, our Canadian CEO-to-be, each lived in Omaha for several years late in the 20th Century. Indeed, in the 1990s, Greg lived only a few blocks away from me on Farnam Street, though we never met at the time. Can it be that there is some magic ingredient in Omaha’s water? * * * * * * * * * * * * I lived a few teenage years in Washington, DC (when my dad was in Congress) and in 1954 I took what I thought would be a permanent job in Manhattan. There I was treated wonderfully by Ben Graham and Jerry Newman and made many life-long friends. New York had unique assets – and still does. Nevertheless, in 1956, after only 1½ years, I returned to Omaha, never to wander again. Subsequently, my three children, as well as several grandchildren, were raised in Omaha. My children always attended public schools (graduating from the same high school that educated my dad (class of 1921), my first wife, Susie (class of 1950) as well as Charlie, Stan Lipsey, Irv and Ron Blumkin, who were key to growing Nebraska Furniture Mart, and Jack Ringwalt (class of 1923), who founded National Indemnity and sold it to Berkshire in 1967 where it became the base upon which our huge P/C operation was constructed. * * * * * * * * * * * * Our country has many great companies, great schools, great medical facilities and each definitely has its own special advantages along with talented people. But I feel very lucky to have had the good fortune to make many lifelong friends, to meet both of my wives, to receive a great start in education at public schools, to meet many interesting and friendly adult Omahans when I was very young, and to make a wide variety of friends in the Nebraska National Guard. In short, Nebraska has been home. Looking back I feel that both Berkshire and I did better because of our base in Omaha than if I had resided anywhere else. The center of the United States was a very good place to be born, to raise a family, and to build a business. Through dumb luck, I drew a ridiculously long straw at birth. * * * * * * * * * * * * Now let’s move on to my advanced age. My genes haven’t been particularly helpful – the family’s all-time record for longevity (admittedly family records get fuzzy as you work backwards) was 92 until I came along. But I have had wise, friendly and dedicated Omaha doctors, starting with Harley Hotz, and continuing to this day. At least three times, my life has been saved, each with doctors based within a few miles from my home. (I have given up fingerprinting nurses, however. You can get away with many eccentricities at 95 . . . . . but there are limits.) * * * * * * * * * * * * Those who reach old age need a huge dose of good luck, daily escaping banana peels, natural disasters, drunk or distracted drivers, lightning strikes, you name it. But Lady Luck is fickle and – no other term fits – wildly unfair. In many cases, our leaders and the rich have received far more than their share of luck – which, too often, the recipients prefer not to acknowledge. Dynastic inheritors have achieved lifetime financial independence the moment they emerged from the womb, while others have arrived, facing a hell-hole during their early life or, worse, disabling physical or mental infirmities that rob them of what I have taken for granted. In many heavily-populated parts of the world, I would likely have had a miserable life and my sisters would have had one even worse. I was born in 1930 healthy, reasonably intelligent, white, male and in America. Wow! Thank you, Lady Luck. My sisters had equal intelligence and better personalities than I but faced a much different outlook. Lady Luck continued to drop by during much of my life, but she has better things to do than work with those in their 90s. Luck has its limits. Father Time, to the contrary, now finds me more interesting as I age. And he is undefeated; for him, everyone ends up on his score card as “wins.” When balance, sight, hearing and memory are all on a persistently downward slope, you know Father Time is in the neighborhood. I was late in becoming old – its onset materially varies – but once it appears, it is not to be denied. To my surprise, I generally feel good. Though I move slowly and read with increasing difficulty, I am at the office five days a week where I work with wonderful people. Occasionally, I get a useful idea or am approached with an offer we might not otherwise have received. Because of Berkshire’s size and because of market levels, ideas are few – but not zero. * * * * * * * * * * * * My unexpected longevity, however, has unavoidable consequences of major importance to my family and the achievement of my charitable objectives. Let’s explore them. What Comes Next My children are all above normal retirement age, having reached 72, 70 and 67. It would be a mistake to wager that all three – now at their peak in many respects – will enjoy my exceptional luck in delayed aging. To improve the probability that they will dispose of what will essentially be my entire estate before alternate trustees replace them, I need to step up the pace of lifetime gifts to their three foundations. My children are now at their prime in respect to experience and wisdom but have yet to enter old age. That “honeymoon” period will not last forever. Fortunately, a course correction is easy to execute. There is, however, one additional factor to consider: I would like to keep a significant amount of “A” shares until Berkshire shareholders develop the comfort with Greg that Charlie and I long enjoyed. That level of confidence shouldn’t take long. My children are already 100% behind Greg as are the Berkshire directors. All three children now have the maturity, brains, energy and instincts to disburse a large fortune. They will also have the advantage of being above ground when I am long gone and, if necessary, can adopt policies both anticipatory and reactive to federal tax policies or other developments affecting philanthropy. They may well need to adapt to a significantly changing world around them. Ruling from the grave does not have a great record, and I have never had an urge to do Fortunately, all three children received a dominant dosage of their genes from their mother. As the decades have passed, I have also become a better model for their thinking and behavior. I will never, however, achieve parity with their mother. My children have three alternate trustees in case of any premature deaths or disabilities. The alternates are not ranked or tied to a specific child. All three are exceptional humans and wise in the ways of the world. They have no conflicting motives. I have assured my children that they do not need to perform miracles nor fear failures or disappointments. These are inevitable, and I have made my share. They simply need to improve somewhat upon what generally is achieved by government activities and/or private philanthropy, recognizing these other methods of redistribution of wealth have shortcomings as well. Early on, I contemplated various grand philanthropic plans. Though I was stubborn, these did not prove feasible. During my many years, I’ve also watched ill-conceived wealth transfers by political hacks, dynastic choices and, yes, inept or quirky philanthropists. If my children simply do a decent job, they can be certain that their mother and I would be pleased. Their instincts are good and they each have had years of practice with very small sums initially that have been irregularly increased to more than $500 million annually. All three like working long hours to help others, each in their own way. * * * * * * * * * * * * The acceleration of my lifetime gifts to my children’s foundations in no way reflects any change in my views about Berkshire’s prospects. Greg Abel has more than met the high expectations I had for him when I first thought he should be Berkshire’s next CEO. He understands many of our businesses and personnel far better than I now do, and he is a very fast learner about matters many CEOs don’t even consider. I can’t think of a CEO, a management consultant, an academic, a member of government – you name it – that I would select over Greg to handle your savings and mine. Greg understands, for example, far more about both the upside potential and the dangers of our P/C insurance business than do a great many long-time P/C executives. My hope is that his health remains good for several decades. With a little luck, Berkshire should require only five or six CEOs over the next century. It should particularly avoid those whose goal is to retire at 65, to become lookat-me rich or to initiate a dynasty One unpleasant reality: Occasionally, a wonderful and loyal CEO of the parent or a subsidiary will succumb to dementia, Alzheimer’s or another debilitating and long-term disease. Charlie and I encountered this problem several times and failed to act. This failure can be a huge mistake. The Board must be alert to this possibility at the CEO level and the CEO must be alert to the possibility at subsidiaries. This is easier said than done; I could cite a few examples from the past at major companies. Directors should be alert and speak up is all that I can advise. During my lifetime, reformers sought to embarrass CEOs by requiring the disclosure of the compensation of the boss compared to what was being paid to the average employee. Proxy statements promptly ballooned to 100-plus pages compared to 20 or less earlier. But the good intentions didn’t work; instead they backfired. Based on the majority of my observations – the CEO of company “A” looked at his competitor at company “B” and subtly conveyed to his board that he should be worth more. Of course, he also boosted the pay of directors and was careful who he placed on the compensation committee. The new rules produced envy, not moderation. The ratcheting took on a life of its own. What often bothers very wealthy CEOs – they are human, after all – is that other CEOs are getting even richer. Envy and greed walk hand in hand. And what consultant ever recommended a serious cut in CEO compensation or board payments? * * * * * * * * * * * * In aggregate, Berkshire’s businesses have moderately better-than-average prospects, led by a few non-correlated and sizable gems. However, a decade or two from now, there will be many companies that have done better than Berkshire; our size takes its toll. Berkshire has less chance of a devastating disaster than any business I know. And, Berkshire has a more shareholder-conscious management and board than almost any company with which I am familiar (and I’ve seen a lot). Finally, Berkshire will always be managed in a manner that will make its existence an asset to the United States and eschew activities that would lead it to become a supplicant. Over time, our managers should grow quite wealthy – they have important responsibilities – but do not have the desire for dynastic or look-at-me wealth. Our stock price will move capriciously, occasionally falling 50% or so as has happened three times in 60 years under present management. Don’t despair; America will come back and so will Berkshire shares. A Few Final Thoughts One perhaps self-serving observation. I’m happy to say I feel better about the second half of my life than the first. My advice: Don’t beat yourself up over past mistakes – learn at least a little from them and move on. It is never too late to improve. Get the right heroes and copy them. You can start with Tom Murphy; he was the best. Remember Alfred Nobel, later of Nobel Prize fame, who – reportedly – read his own obituary that was mistakenly printed when his brother died and a newspaper got mixed up. He was horrified at what he read and realized he should change his behavior. Don’t count on a newsroom mix-up: Decide what you would like your obituary to say and live the life to deserve it. Greatness does not come about through accumulating great amounts of money, great amounts of publicity or great power in government. When you help someone in any of thousands of ways, you help the world. Kindness is costless but also priceless. Whether you are religious or not, it’s hard to beat The Golden Rule as a guide to behavior. I write this as one who has been thoughtless countless times and made many mistakes but also became very lucky in learning from some wonderful friends how to behave better (still a long way from perfect, however). Keep in mind that the cleaning lady is as much a human being as the Chairman. * * * * * * * * * * * * I wish all who read this a very happy Thanksgiving. Yes, even the jerks; it’s never too late to change. Remember to thank America for maximizing your opportunities. But it is – inevitably – capricious and sometimes venal in distributing its rewards. Choose your heroes very carefully and then emulate them. You will never be perfect, but you can always be better.

CT is eerily silent today Will 1,000 $DOG soldiers show up and repost this to prove that the $DOG Army shows up every single day no matter what?

Probably one of the most severe flushes I’ve ever seen on alts, I didn’t even imagine alts had this much leverage in them. It feels like someone got hit very hard and will see a large body float to the surface soon, reminds me a little of summer 2021. Good reminder to myself to own things that I am actually bullish on, and not things I am trying to shift on momentum. Some charts look like they’ll never recover, whereas some things look buyable for the first time in a while. When everyone is making hilarious amounts of money I am always tempted to start using leverage again. It is almost impossible to fight the feeling that you’re not making enough, or everyone else is outpacing you. Good reminder that fighting that feeling and avoid the wipeouts is worth it in the end. Check on your friends, likely a bad day for many. Personally, am concentrating my bags into the things I am happy to own for the next few years, and shedding the fat. Realised I own some assets based on not wanting to miss out, rather than on some actual thesis. Days like today are much easier for me if I think my bags will bounce back, and much worse if I’m losing money owning things I don’t even believe in. Don’t let a leverage blowup dictate your long-term views. The future is bright, good things to come, patience is rewarded. 嵐の後

An interesting start to the weekend 😭

FROM JPMorgan could start lending directly against crypto assets. TO Michael Saylor’s Strategy planning to raise $2.5B to buy more $BTC. A lot has happened on #crypto Twitter.   Give me 2 minutes, and I will update you with everything that you missed:

If you do not consistently take big leaps of faith bets on yourself, sacrifice and struggle.. You will likely be poor and have a bad life. It’s as simple as this. Figure out exactly what you want, cut everything that’s not it and take on risk and challenges till it happens. Or else…life will decide for you. The things you wanted will be the sacrifice. You will get the returns of taking zero risk (aka nothing). And you will fail to grow due to never being challenged or struggling to reach a higher level of you. The result is a life full of nothing you wanted, no money/success and being undeveloped weak person. That’s terrifying. Do everything you can to avoid it.

Checked one of my portfolios. Down 27 million. Not a badge of honor. Obviously single clip dumping it months ago was the "optimal" move. But that's the SHORT TERM pro trader move and opposite to what I told you. Love me or hate me. I stick/hold to what I say. Which is A) I don't think the best price on utility are in till we at least see an ETH ATH (Which I think we see this year) B) I have faith AI, RWA, Games will be the big utility winners. Quality l1s that haven't moved should see 3-5xs. This bet is still very much on and in play. My money/actions are where my mouth is and I am holding the bet & taking hits with you. And I'm still confident as fuck in this bets risk to reward. I hold the line with you padawans. This is part of this fucked up game we play. Saylor got down 75%, multiple billions in the bear, to then come back and double it. We will be fine.

This cycle, I'm already seeing people make the same mistakes that cost me millions in 2021. I don't want you to waste this cycle too. I'm begging you - it's not too late to change your ways. 🧵: My top 10 tips to help you navigate the hardest crypto bull run ever.👇

crypto 2025 so far > trump launches shitcoin > melania launches unrelated shitcoin day after > ledger cofounder kidnapped along with his wife and fingers cut off > africa launches shitcoin > argentina launches crimecoin in collaboration with a disfigured cartoon looking mfer > cartoon looking mfer says he "controls that n***a" > kanye talks about cardano, bsc, and launching his own chain > largest hack in crypto and internet history, ever — courtesy of north korea > dave portnoy launches several scamcoins, and buys jail coin in size > cz talks about his dog > vitalik, toly, and raj get canceled for random silly tweets > la vape cabal goes AWOL > guy on NEAR livestreams girlfriend's tits > monad, bera, uni, abstract launch > all markets turbo nuke > SBF comes back AND FEBRUARY ISN'T EVEN OVER

I made millions of $’s trading in the NQ pit at CME, after divorce in 03, remarried in 05, huge changes in floor trading I was slow to react to, 2008 my Mom died in June, my sister died in Nov & my mother-in-law in March plus failure of my prop group I owned, real estate investments gone, investments gone, I went back on the floor in the Hog pit to rebuild. MF Global failed in 2011 & I failed with it. I began to chase the large amount of money MFG took, I was swinging 6 figures a day till I had nothing left—totally broke. I was married with 5 kids. We sold our house, moved into my dad’s home—like Job, I sat on my pile of dung feeling terribly sorry for myself. I saw no way out or no way back. However, I had the love of a good woman who saw what I couldn’t, a semblance of faith in a God who loved me. I smoked too much, drank too much, and was terribly depressed. I had a choice. Give up, or put one foot in front of the other in love and faith. 10+ years later, I am a better trader than ever, a better father and husband, I am in better shape at 55 than ever. My kids are all happy and healthy. My wife and I couldn’t be more in love. I now know the difference between being rich and being wealthy. If you are struggling, DO NOT give up. Keep moving forward……. It gets better. God bless you all. Pray for Peace.

#Bitcoin Monthly Close Approaching 📈 As long as #BTC holds above the 38.2% Fibonacci retracement, the bull run remains intact. That’s my take.

NEW: #Bitcoin is crushing it this year, while these sectors are drowning in losses: AI Frameworks: -84.05% Agents: -70.27% Memecoins: -51.74% Gaming Infra: -51.54% Modular: -47.48% AI & DePIN: -42.48% $BTC reigns supreme👑

Being bearish and giving up now is a BIG mistake.

A company that is famous for selling JPEGs of Bored Apes on the internet raised $320 million this weekend by selling 55,000 parcels of virtual land in their metaverse & people paid with a currency called ApeCoin. That legitimately would have sounded insane just a few years ago.

I sold an unrevealed mutant Otherside land and it ended up having a Koda on it. So basically my one decision means I missed out on about $65,000. Which feels like the perfect time for a thread on mental health in the NFT space. 👇

Here's what the $APE data is telling us before the @OthersideMeta mint. Spoiler: it's SHOCKING and no one is ready...