Fear and Bagholding on Robinhood: The Wave of GameStop

Note: Another Reddit shitpost. Inspired by Hunter S. Thompson’s ‘wave speech’ from the book Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas, I changed a bunch of the text to fit the narrative from the whole GameStop fiasco from January 2021. The original text has that feeling of failing on a large goal, a dream for a better world, that you almost did something to affect history which actually seemed fitting with how trading forums, including r/wallstreetbets seemed to view GameStop’s meteoric rise, and crash, within a week.

All poetics and retrospection aside, it’s meant to be a joke.

Strange memories on this nervous night on Robinhood. Two weeks later? Three? It seems like a lifetime, or at least a Main Era—the kind of peak that never comes again. Wall Street Bets in the middle of January was a very special time and place to be a part of. Maybe it meant something. Maybe not, in the long run . . . but no explanation, no mix of loss porn or memes or đź’Ž âś‹or 🚀 can touch that sense of knowing that you were there and YOLOing in that corner of your wife’s boyfriend’s basement. Whatever it meant…

Tendies are hard to know, because of all the hired bullshit, but even without being sure of “tendies” it seems entirely reasonable to think that every now and then the energy of all the autists and retards comes to a head in a long fine short squeeze, for memes that nobody really understands at the time—and which never explain, in retrospect, what actually happened.

My central memory of that time seems to hang on one or five or maybe forty threads—or very early mornings shitposts—when I checked WSB half-crazy and, instead of cashing out, aimed my big $1650 Robinhood account towards GameStop at $325 per share, wearing cummed-stained shorts and a ramen-stained shirt…chucking rent money into AMC at $16 per share, not quite sure what my exit strategy was (always stalling at the sell button, too autistic to take profits while I fumbled for more YOLO money)…but being absolutely certain that no matter which way I traded I would come to a place where people were just as retarded and đź’Ž âś‹ed as I was: No doubt at all about that…

There was madness in any stonk, at any hour. If not across GME, then in AMC or BB or NOK…You could strike tendies anywhere. There was a fantastic universal sense that whatever we were doing was right, that we were winning…

And that, I think, was the handle—that sense of inevitable victory over the forces of Boomers and Hedge Funds. Not in any mean or military sense; we didn’t need that. Our autism would simply prevail. There was no point in fighting—on our side or theirs. We had all the momentum; we were riding the crest of GameStop, a high and beautiful wave…

So now, less than a week later, you can find a steep chart on Robinhood and scroll back, and with the right kind of autism you can almost see the high-water price—that place at $500 per share where the wave finally broke and rolled back.

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