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A trader is a fisherman. As such, he must be able to sit patiently all day with his rod in his hand.

Those of ye faithless who have followed my journey from comfortable middle class existence to utter penury through futures trading surely will recoil that most of my trading systems in the past two years have come to me in dreams. That those dreams were champagne-fueled is not relevant. What is...

Au cuntraire! I update the optimizations of my systems weekly. To the extent that anything can be said to be statistically significant in the markets, my results are. I am comfortable with them to the point of boredumb.

I drink champagne when I trade. Generally I find that trading drunk is like driving drunk. You tend to more careful and aware of your perceptual limits. Trading drunk kills fewer people, unless you get falling-down drunk and fall out of your chair and break your neck. Also I find that I feel...

I run an ES/NQ divergence on a one-second chart. It is really impressive looking. But it doesn't tell me anything useful. Today ES is "overpriced." Tomorrow NQ is "overpriced." The next day they track. But it took me nearly a minute to code, and I don't like to waste any of my brilliant effart.

Nazzie, I do so love it when you opine on NQ. But BampersandN is still the only place to hit on fucked-up women in the Psych book section.

Rabie, ah am bug inning ta tink dat yo be ma eve-ile twin. So doan tekk no off-ense at dis poste. But da fat lady woan screem in ek-stacy till dis bitch (attach) hit tree pro-cent. Hint: we gots a ways to go!

Dipfuckingshits! Quit bitching and whining and emigrate to Amerikay! What part of reliability and low latency don't you fucking understand? You fucking foreigners want to fucking make money in our markets? Come fucking here!

Bitch! Have you hacked unto moi subwoofer? My contest against myself today was to see how long I could scraem "Fuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuck!" at the top of my lungs before expiring of fart failure.

Spicking of small circules of fleisch, the soup-pream moement of my life was when I was sucking tit, pressing thumb hard into the flesh above the pyoobis, diddling clit with first finger, rubbing G-spot with third finger, and dallying delicately around rectum with pinky (better have a big...

If you are a guy, pleasing women is all about sucking that tit when she is about to and/or gasm. Ask your woman, "Is there a string connecting your tit to your pussy?" If she sayeth "No, you fucking perv!", move on, and find one who says "Oh my fuicking god , yes! Suck it, big boy! I don't care...

A marvelous thing happenunt to me, akin to the conversion of Paul on the road to Damascus: I put Jack on ignore. Instantly, tout d'un coup, the veal of iggorance was lifted from my eyes. Now I see all. Know all. Bitch Market no longer makes my dick hard. I know her tricks.

But we digress. Don't know how to conduct your life? Go to church. Don't know how to please womwn? Sneak a peek at Cosmo. Don't know how to choose the proiducts you want? Subscribe to Cuntsoomer Reaports. Dont't know how to trade? Cuntpleat my sentunce.

If you have a good system, there is no risk. As every good salesman knows,"Thank you for the rejection! You put me one 'no' closer to "yes'!"

How crude! Currently drinking the aught-6: http://www.domainecarneros.com//index.cfm My second bottle of the day.

Peckerlow, my Anguish is as good as it gits for a Amureekun. If you desire to engage in an English literacy contest, have at it. Let's start with a sentence which uses the lovely words abecedarian, abulia, and acedia in a sensical sentence related to nonsensical trading. Ten seconds have passed...

Obliviously yew ain't fum hyar. The deaper yew go in de Souf, de darker skint de pitchers of great great gramma get. Evuboddy says "She uz Cherokee." My ass.

http://www.marketwatch.com/story/borderss-sad-story-2010-12-10 I drive by a Borders on my weekly pilgrimage to a B&N. Borders is the Suckit City of books. My simple explanation? Their science friction buyers and stockers haven't a clue.

I can only refer you to the stats on famous authors. Most of them were drunks. It enhances creativity, especially at 4AM on Sunday morning. My best trading ideas have come to me when I was dead drunk, or just awoken with a boner, which events at my age are mutually exclusive.

I drink to mask the no longer incipient Alzheimer's. "Sorry, hon, I don't remember." There are days that I think EasySignal's data has Alzheimer's, too.