Quote from atticus:
Yeah, imagine the pathology of a guy in NYC working as a waiter at a Italian steak house, calling tops as the market blows through his predictions. It's time to iron your little black vest.
Missed you in Chicago. You're woefully out of your depth, sweetie.
You can't win against me, ever.
And you know why? I've never been happier.
But please go on.
