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The Dude: It's like what Lenin said…you look for the person who will benefit, and, uh, uh...
Donny: I am the walrus.
The Dude: You know what I'm trying to say...
Donny: I am the walrus.
Walter Sobchak: Shut the fuck up, Donny! V.I. Lenin! Vladimir Illanich Uleninov!
Donny:What the fuck is he talking about, Dude?
Hello again, GME Gang. What a fun day we had yesterday! Could it continue today? Only Melvin Capital (and maybe Ryan Cohen) knows!
And an extra special hello today to our newest WSB lookie-loo, Mr. Cramer (Can I call you Jim? I’m gonna call you Jim).
Now Jim, from what I’ve been able to gather, you and your Boomer stocks and your Hot Manic Takes don’t always get a lot of love around here. But that’s not all your fault, Jim. The Paste-Eating Rocket Kids are often good for a solid meme (FYI: it’s pronounced “Mee-Mee.” Feel free to use that on air without verifying). But the Rocket Kids can be a dense bunch and they’re also often one click away from Total Financial Ruin (Quick shout out to SPCE: Pleas fly again). So you have to dig a bit in here to separate the wheat from the chaff, as someone like you actually says in real life. What the fuck even is chaff, Jim? And why do all Boomers seem to think that folksy farm-based idioms are the perfect way to conclude a thought?
Anyway. Those of us who watched your teevee clips last week where you reference your interest in WSB know that you, Jim Cramer, might be one of the Olds, but that you also Think Young(TM). https://www.thestreet.com/jim-cramestock-market-advice-moderna-boeing-fed-ftc-dec-15. So we’re going to do our best to help your young-thinkin’ brain find the Needle In the Haystack here so you can get All Your Ducks In a Row on GME. Because we know that you’re a long way from being Put Out to Pasture, and though you may be an out-of-touch millionaire prone to facile yammering, we now like you here, Jim—simply because you mentioned us and that made us blush a bit since we’re needy Millennials who just want our Boomer mommies and daddies to Tell Us They’re Proud of Us. So even though the Paste-Eating Rocket Kids here are often Buying A Pig in a Poke (Christ, please do not ever say that or the kids’ Mee-Mees are gonna fuck you up), we appreciate you recognizing that, every now and then, there’s something worth paying attention to over in this weird little pocket of the Interwebs. And since you’re actually telling your loyal single-finger-typin’ viewers to check out this WSB shitshow, and “if they’re running GME, then do some work on GME,” we assume you might actually be checking this shit out too, since all true Young Thinkers know that What’s Good for the Goose is Good for the Gander.
Now, is the GME play as solid as your recent recommendation to buy Bed Bath and Beyond? Who knows? That seems pretty stupid, and I would look it up myself this weekend but my nice little Saturday is already pretty full so I don’t know—I don’t know if I’ll have enough time. But I’ll tell you one thing: the GME play is a lot more fucking fun. Life in a pandemic is boring, but here in this weird WSB place, these kids like fun. And for all your Boomer weirdness, you seem like you still like to have a little fun in this Mad, Mad world of ours. So consider joining us here more often. A word of warning, though: if you don’t like all the dern cuss words we use around here, Jim, well that’s just, like, your opinion man, and we’ll have you know that the Supreme Court has roundly rejected Prior Restraint.
First thing’s first: we have a bit of a bone to pick with you (now there I go). The stuff you said last week about GME as the next Blockbuster was D-U-M dumb, Jim. You were a bit out of your fucking element with that. You even made our largest shareholder and conqueror-in-waiting, Mr. Ryan Cohen, send an emoji-only tweet in response, which if you know the super nice-guy Ryan Cohen like all of us do (we actually know nothing), that is pretty much the equivalent of him bringing his dog over to micturate on your and George Sherman’s rug.
Now, I myself have never been into the whole brevity thing, but I wanted to take this opportunity to get you up to speed on the GME movie you’ve wandered into. And I know you’re down with this because you told all your viewers that if WSB is talking about GME, then “make sure you know GME.” So before you say something Absolutely Mad again and Cohen sends a tweet with an even less ambiguous emoji, it’s high time that you start Making the Sure here, Jim. Just consider this to be CPT Hubbard delivering you some Orange Sunshine and turning you on to some of that Sweet, Delicious Non-Chaff Wheat you love so goddamn much.
Part 1: GME’s Bonkers-Ass Short Interest
Now, I’m going to lead with the most crowd-pleasing part of the story here (Get ready, Rocket Kids!), and it’s the one that you did not even seem remotely familiar with in your “Stay out of GameStop, Deadbeat!” rant last week. Maybe that was by design or maybe not. We’ll return to that, Jim. But the point here is: the short interest here is batshit insane. And not just your garden variety Boomer in Rolled Up Sleeves Ranting About Buying Estee Lauder While Hitting Buttons On The Beep-Bop-Boop Machine kind of insanity. Really and truly fucking nuts.
So to TL/DR this shit for you, Jim (to use the parlance of our times): GME is the most shorted stock trading today—by far. https://financhill.com/most-heavily-shorted-stocks-today How shorted? Well, the value of shares short exceeds the market cap of the company; there are currently more shares short than the total number of shares outstanding. And when factoring in the institutional and insider ownership, the total short percentage of float is nearly 300%. https://www.gurufocus.com/term/FloatPercentageOfTSO/GME/Float-Percentage-Of-Total-Shares-Outstanding/GameStop-Corp Even higher, actually, now that Cohen’s interest is over 10%. Now, I’m not a numbers whiz like you, but that level of short interest and the small available float seems pretty fucked up to me. Like: “how is that even legal?” fucked up. And just for a frame of reference, the third most shorted security right now is your beloved Bed Bath and Beyond, with a short percentage of float at a nice and tidy 69%.
Are you starting to gather why some of us in this weird little pocket of the Interwebs are a little excited about GME? You see, as u/Jeffamazon and RodAlzmann u/Uberkikz11 and others have explained in these here corners and on the twitter machine with their top-notch DD, and as I will translate to you in lingo you can dig, the short sellers got way over their skiis on this one expecting a bankruptcy in Spring of 2020 that never came. And yet, amazingly, the short interest has only increased since then—there has effectively been no covering in the aggregate and, in fact, the short percentage has only gone up. And now, on the threshold of 2021, we all sit atop a massive powder keg wondering what is going to be the thing that finally lights this shit up. And at the end of this little missive, I’m going to tell you what I think that thing might be (Spoiler: It’s Ryan Cohen! Better start getting used to seeing his name, Jim, because this dude does not fuck around and he’s not going anywhere).
https://www.reddit.com/wallstreetbets/comments/k4csaa/the_real_greatest_short_burn_of_the_century_part/
https://twitter.com/RodAlzmann
https://thecollective.finance/2020/10/gamestop-gme-a-squeeze-to-44-from-14-can-be-justified-fundamentally-100-of-the-shares-are-short-watch-out/
Part 2: GameStop Isn’t Going Bankrupt and People Actually Want to Buy Shit There
So, you foul mouthed little prick, a bonkers-ass short interest is neat and all, but why is Jim Cramer wrong when Jim Cramer compares GME to Blockbuster you might be asking yourself in the third person. First, the most obvious answer, Jim, which you should fucking know already: Blockbuster was nearly $1 Billion in debt and missing debt payments left and right when it was delisted way back in 2010. That was also when there was a bit of a credit crunch, if you recall, right after that whole Housing Crash Unpleasantness that you saw coming from a mile away and from which you made hundreds of millions of dollars due to your contrarian foresight—I’m sorry, I’m clearly confusing you with Christian Bale starring as Dr. Michael Burry, weirdo head of Scion Asset Management, which also holds about 1.4M shares of GME (You really gotta start looking into this stuff, Jim. This story is made for TV, man—and you Boomers were raised by TV and you turned out TV!). Also, in 2010 when Netflix is ripping and when Blockbuster was about to be delisted and bankrupt, an analyst noted the obvious fact that Blockbuster had “nothing on the horizon that makes it look like Blockbuster is going to be more profitable.”
https://www.reuters.com/article/us-blockbusteblockbuster-wins-debt-reprieve-forced-to-delist-idUSTRE66052720100702
But Jim, if your Blockbuster comparison has any plausibility, GameStop must have a major debt problem then, right? And yet just last month GameStop repaid $125M in debt several months ahead of time. It’s also really weird that over the past year management bought back a ton of shares, taking the OS from 102M down to just under 70M (making a short squeeze even more likely, my Rocket Children). The weirdness continues with a soon-to-be-bankrupt company holding almost $500M in cash on hand. And according to George Sherman’s “Thine Omnichannel Shalt Be The Omni-est Channel of Them All” Conference Call following Q3, by March 2021 GME will have retired a total of $500M in debt and returned $200M to shareholders through stock buy backs. I’m no expert here, and I do not presently own a Beep-Bop-Boop Machine, but that’s all pretty weird shit to be doing if you’re about to go bankrupt.
No, no – I get it: who the fuck actually looks at balance sheets anyway before spouting off about what a stock is going to do? I sure as hell don’t. That’s why I follow my man u/Uberkikz11, since that dude is a GME DD Encyclopedia and was born to crunch numbers. No, when Really Smart People make the Blockbuster comparison, it’s usually just Mouth Sounds for: A B&M Store That Used to Be Popular But Now Is Not Because Technology, QED. But here even the Really Smart People might be missing something as well. They’re right in the sense that GME must use this new console cycle window and cash influx to quickly pivot to a tech-first gaming company (more on that and our boy RC shortly!), but they’re wrong on the timing and relevance of this Super Smart Insight.
So fine, they’re doing ok on debt and cash. But who even goes to that 90s-Ass-Looking Cluttered Mall Geekery anymore anyways? I confess: in my darkest moments, as the short sellers manipulate the fuck out of this stock and I curse the names Bell and Sherman, I too have wondered this. But it turns out that, just like I have no idea why anyone listens to Maroon 5 or eats at Applebee’s, apparently a lot of people in America do shit that I do not. Crazy huh? So here is some pretty neat data showing us how out of touch we might be here, Jim:
First, when a pretty large sample size of people were recently asked the question: which of the following stores or websites do you plan to buy holiday gifts from? The #5 response from United States Americans was none other than GameStop (Ticker, Jim: GME). Only Walmart, Amazon, Target, and Dollar Store (poor people buy gifts too, Jim) were ahead of little old GameStop. That’s higher than Nike, Macy’s, the Apple Store—and double the response of Bed Bath and Fucking Beyond in every category they surveyed. Check it: (h/t to my man u/snowk88)
https://stocktwits.com/snowk88/message/260983915
That’s kinda crazy huh? See Jim, when you Think Young(TM), you really can learn something new every day. And by following our man u/snowk88 (@snowk88 over at stocktwits), I learn lots of cool shit. But guess who already knew that? The guy that wrote this bad-ass letter that identifies GME’s brand and customer data as being one of the most valuable things GME has going for it. https://s.wsj.net/public/resources/documents/RC_Ventures_Letter_to_GameStop.pdf
So now we know that Real Life People actually buy shit at GameStop here in the year of our lord 2020. But like that analyst from 2010 said about Blockbuster, there must not be anything on the horizon for GameStop to be more profitable in 2021, right?
Now, I will admit that being a bit bearish on GME in December of 2020 would make more sense if, say, GameStop were the nation’s largest purveyor of limp and half-lit pumpkin spice-scented candles and we were exiting the apogee of Shitty Candle Season. But as it turns out, GameStop is currently selling basically the most sought-after items that exist in the marketplace right now—where demand for the Xbox and Ps5 is far outpacing supply and is projected to continue well into 2021. https://www.gamesindustry.biz/articles/2020-11-17-microsoft-expects-xbox-series-x-s-shortages-until-q2-2021 I don’t really need to get into the details on that here, because it’s pretty goddamn obvious, but I think 2020 GameStop at the precipice of a new console cycle might be in a bit of a better position than, say, 2010 Blockbuster relying on the latest Adam Sandler release to lift its sagging rental numbers. But I don’t know. Millions of people don’t watch my show looking for Candid Analysis from me and my folksy man-of-the-people-lookin’ rolled-up sleeves.
Part 3: Ryan Cohen is the Sword of Damocles Hanging Over the Short Sellers’ Dumbass Heads
And now we’ve gotten to the best part. It’s my favorite part of all of this, Jim, and if you give this a little time, I think it will be yours too. You see, all that corporate bla bla bla about balance sheets and console cycles and early debt repayment and overleveraged short sellers and brand recognition is neat and all—and definitely worth a second look by itself. Maybe even a little Beep-Bop-Boop on the ol’ sound machine—I don’t know your methods. But the real thing that’s about to rip all our faces off here is the business and investment decisions of a mild-mannered wunderkind named Ryan Cohen.
Now you can revisit my prior epistle if you want to know a bit more about the involvement of Mr. Ryan Cohen in Le Affair GameStop. https://www.reddit.com/wallstreetbets/comments/kakxrm/gme_tribe_a_story_about_how_ryan_cohen_is_about/. My fly-by-night theory of his lawyer’s possible use of the consent solicitation could have probably marinated for another day, but the thrust of my argument there was that Cohen and his attorney have been laying the groundwork to come after GameStop for a while now. And that Cohen was likely emboldened by the humiliating, lame-ass CC performance by some dude with a mid-century comic-strip sounding name that we’ll all soon know only as: The Guy With the Punchable Face Who Used to Be CEO of GameStop.
But here is where things get really interesting. This is a story in the making, Jim, for fucks sake - take notes! This Monday, on December 21, Mr. Ryan Cohen filed a revised 13D showing that last week he started buying a shit-ton of shares—starting on Tuesday December 15th—which is the day after the stock price inexplicably plunged on Monday the 14th and the very same day you were yammering on the teevee about GME being Blockbuster! Instead of listening to you, however, Cohen started buying more GME shares (super-sleuth dark pool watchers u/rgrAi and u/snowk88 noticed in real-time that there was some very large accumulation taking place), which culminated in the big reveal that Cohen purchased a total of 2,501,000 additional shares last week—500,000 of which were purchased on Friday December 18, 2020 at the price of $16.02 a share. Ryan Cohen is still the single largest shareholder of GME with 9,001,000 shares in total, taking his ownership of GME above the 10% threshold from 9.98% to 12.9%. And so he apparently thinks that the floor for his investment is $16.02 per share. Is he still buying? We’ll know soon. But yesterday seemed like a little taste of what it might look like if a large buyer steps in to prevent short sellers from manipulating all of my nervous little Rocket Children here and their delicate little paper hands.
There was another thing we learned from this 13D filing: Ryan Cohen has apparently hired a new attorney and law firm. Instead of the great Christopher Davis of Kline Kaplan, now Ryan Cohen is represented by Ryan P. Nebel, a partner with Olshan Frome Wolosky, LLP. Now, if you’re familiar with my prior ramblings, you might wonder if I was a bit confused, and maybe even a little sad, at this sudden change from my man C. Davis. And you might be a little right. But then the wonder of the internet allowed me to learn a bit about these new lawyers. And holy shit, things are about to get fun.
Now, I liked what I knew about Chris Davis and he seems like a genuine bad ass activist attorney. But the folks at Olshan Frome and Wolosky, LLP are Next Level Players and really seem tailor-made for this exact situation. First off, Olshan is ranked as the top global lawfirm for Activist Attorneys. https://www.olshanlaw.com/assets/htmldocuments/Bloomberg%20Activism%20League%20Tables%20H12020.pdf (H/t @flummoxed at stocktwits). They seem to be the go-to law firm for major proxy battles initiated by activist investors. But possibly even more important is that Olshan is the same firm that represented Hestia and Permit in their successful proxy battle earlier this year to appoint two new directors to the GME Board. I’m not going into the fine details of that, because this is already a bit of a long-form Idiot’s New Yorker article, but GameStop just went through a proxy fight last year with Activist Investors Hestia Capital and Permit Capital, which resulted in two Board seats for our shareholder buds from Hestia and Permit. So, it’s reasonable to assume that the attorneys at Olshan might know their way around GameStop at this point and where the pressure points are here.
http://www.globallegalchronicle.com/hestia-capital-and-permit-capitals-two-new-directors-to-the-gamestop-board/
https://www.olshanlaw.com/resources-mentions-HestiaCapital-PermitCapital-GameStop-BoardofDirectors-ShareholderActivism.html
And if you follow u/snowk88 over at stocktwits (@snowk88)— you’d also find a wealth of DD on how Olshan rolls when entering these activist-investor-replaces-dumbass-boards-and-CEOs type disputes. To bottom line it: they get it fucking done.
https://stocktwits.com/snowk88/message/266158534
https://stocktwits.com/snowk88/message/266155112
https://stocktwits.com/snowk88/message/266153175
But what else did we learn from the 13D? We learned that Ryan Cohen is definitely not going anywhere any time soon. Specifically, the filing notes that RC Ventures intends to continue to engage in discussions with GameStop’s board “regarding means to drive stockholder value, including through changes to the composition of the board and other corporate governance enhancements." And while RC Ventures “desires to come to an amicable resolution with [GameStop, it] will not hesitate to take any actions that it believes are necessary to protect the best interests of all stockholders.”
I really like that last part, don’t you? And although I thought his November 16th letter was pretty goddamn clear, this 13D just ratcheted up the transparency level here. In sum, Ryan Cohen has all of our backs and he’s going to replace this Board and Sherman with people that are on the level and that will help implement his vision.
And now seems like a good time to return to those “Ryan Cohen: Boy Genius” articles that were definitely NOT part of a well-coordinated pre-hostile takeover media campaign initiated earlier this year. I think there might be a few things in those articles that Mr. Cohen wanted all of us shareholders (as well as the short sellers and the Board he’s about to replace) to really and truly understand. Recall also that Cohen is not one for diversification or for playing it safe. So here’s a few choice nuggets for you to ponder:
***
Bloomberg, June 2020: https://www.bloomberg.com/news/articles/2020-06-05/chewy-founder-cashes-out-bets-on-apple-wells-fargo
· "It's too hard to find, at least for me, what I consider great ideas," he says. "When I find things I have a lot of conviction in, I go all-in."
· Cohen uses the word “conviction” a lot. He says it’s something he learned from his father, who ran a glassware importing business in Montreal where Cohen grew up. “He taught me how to block the noise from the masses,” says Cohen. “To have a point of view and have conviction and not waver.”
· He wouldn’t, however, recommend his [non-diversified] investment approach to everyone. “You need to have the temperament to block the noise,” he says. “Sometimes it feels like a roller coaster.”
· He likens his obsessive focus on building Chewy to his approach to stock picking. "I don't want to swing for a single," he says.
***
You hear that, Jim? Our man Cohen likes idioms too! But fuck those farm idioms, Jim – we’re upgrading to the Sportsball kind now. So what’s the takeaway here? I’d say that Cohen has his Eye On The Ball and that it’s time for all short sellers and the Board to Throw in The Towel because Ryan Goddamn Cohen likes to Take the Bull By The Horns and will ensure that he Hits a Homerun for shareholders that believe in his vision.
Here’s a few more things Mr. Cohen wants all of us to know:
***
Forbes, August 2020: https://www.forbes.com/sites/zackfriedman/2020/08/16/entrepreneur-chewy-founder-ryan-cohen-shares-his-best-advice/?sh=41e1370e5840
· “For me, each no sounded like they just didn’t understand my vision. It was frustrating at times, but never discouraging. Those ‘no’s never made me doubt my strategy – it was the opposite. I was motivated by all the rejections and they just got me fired up.”
· “I understood that thinking big was likely going to be misunderstood along the way. I’m contrarian by nature, so being misunderstood often validates what I’m doing. It wasn’t until Chewy boxes were on doorsteps across the country that the bulk of investors started to recognize our formula.”
· “[M]y biggest risk would have been not taking risk. The risk of going head-to-head against Amazon. The risk of insourcing fulfillment. The risk of building a company in Florida rather than a popular tech hub. The risk of spending $3 million a month on TV ads, more than Home Depot HD -0.1%'s budget. The risk of hiring expensive executives even though we weren’t profitable. These decisions were some of the most controversial and required me being comfortable betting against conventional wisdom, and were often contrary to the advice of my board. Suffice it to say, I was not the most popular board member.”
· “Dad never swayed when he believed in something. I never compromised my vision, regardless how many investors turned me down I was not going to give up on building Chewy into the world’s biggest online pet retailer. I love to be challenged, and I’m flexible on details, but I’m never willing to give up.”
***
Goddamn it, Ryan. I was done having children but now you’ve forced me into getting back on that train just so I can name this future child Ryan Fucking Cohen. Thanks a lot, asshole.
But to return to my point: are those the statements of a man that seems likely to walk away at this point? Or is Cohen trying to tell us all to get ready because he is going All In on this shit?
So where does this leave us? After a huge week where Cohen buys 2.5M more shares and then the SP skyrockets to $20 yesterday on that news? Well, this is where I want to tip my cap to my man Justin Dopierala over at Seeking Alpha and allow him to conclude this section. He, along with his pal Dmitriy Kozin have been pretty clear-eyed on all this shit for a while now and they both deserve some credit. And I know I gave my main man Justin a bit of a hard time in my last novella, but the dude is sharp as hell and helped a lot of us see the forest through the trees here. And you should also definitely invite him to join your poker nights (seriously: check out the dude’s tweet in response to our own Rod Alzmann’s introduction of the #WeWantCohen hashtag right after the Q3 call debacle). https://twitter.com/DOMOCAPITAL/status/1336446055685230592. You have no comment on a potential takeover involving Ryan Cohen, Justin after your hour-long googly-eyed call together? Can’t believe you’re just preemptively leaving the WSJ and Bloomberg hanging like that. Justin, I love you dude, but if I’m holding pocket Kings I’m folding after that tweet because that twinkle in your eye lets me know you’re about to drop two Aces on my ass.
Anyway. Here is what our man Dopierala thinks might happen here soon (and he called this way back on November 17th- and sorry - no links here, per the mods, as apparently no Alpha must ever be Sought from these parts):
I think a very likely outcome at this point is a majority slate next shareholder meeting where Cohen takes over BOD and then makes himself CEO. A majority slate proxy battle would require all institutions to call in shares and would force a squeeze.
We’re intrigued, Justin. Please continue:
If Ryan Cohen successfully negotiates a purchase price with the Board then the shareholders will have to vote on it. Unlike the proxy battle where Hestia and Permit were running a minority slate of directors, an offer to purchase GameStop would force institutions like Vanguard and Blackrock to call in their shares. By doing so, the shorts would be forced to close out their positions and GameStop would finally have the greatest short squeeze of all-time. Ironically, Cohen could use this opportunity to sell all of his shares and use the proceeds to entirely fund the acquisition of GameStop going down as the first person in history to acquire a billion dollar company... for absolutely nothing. In fact, his acquisition price would be less than zero.
And now is when I get to speculate on what I think is going to happen here. But I do not necessarily think Cohen is going to put an offer to buy GME to take private. That would definitely trigger a MOASS, but I’m not sure I see it given the attorneys he’s hired and his recent buys up to $16 and the amount of cash that would take. Like Dopierala’s first comment, though, I think Cohen is going to nominate directors to replace nearly the entire Board of Directors with a vote happening at the annual meeting and once that Board is in place, they’ll appoint Cohen as CEO. And as Justin notes, if he nominates a majority slate of directors, shares will have to be called in to vote. And this vote and proxy battle will make the prior minority slate Hesita/Permit battle, and the tiny short squeeze that took place when that happened, look tame by comparison.
Now everyone: get your calendars out. Because the date to nominate directors here is in Mid-March, and my super-smart corporate lawyer buds inform me that it’s standard practice to file about 7-10 days prior. So, if this actually happening, we should be seeing something on this by early March.
But even though early March is now the mark on the wall, today’s insane price action caused me to think about all of this a bit harder and speculate a bit more. And a major h/t to my buds on the stocktwits board, especially u/rgrAi (@amarbar) for all the sharp analysis on this. But if you were Ryan Cohen and you knew this company was hugely undervalued and you had a high level of CONVICTION here and also knew you needed shareholder votes to sweep out these dumbasses and implement your vision—then how would you play this with the short interest here as crazy as it is? I’d keep buying. Why? Well, lots of reasons, you smart alecks.
First, so I have more guaranteed votes (duh?). Second, so that when the building starts burning and short hedge funds run for the exits they find that a mild-mannered Millennial with super-good ideas has sealed off all the doors and windows. That’s gruesomely delicious, isn’t it? Why else, CPT? Well, finally, and maybe most importantly, because I would want to excite and delight all my fellow shareholders by triggering a slow-burn short squeeze, raising the SP significantly, so that I can once again make the point (as he did in the Nov 16 letter) that the incompetent management that caused a HUGE drop in SP following that utterly incompetent Q3 call and the shelf registration, had nothing to do with the SP increase that again happened once Cohen announced his intent and started buying. Not the console cycle, not the cost containment measures, not the buybacks and not the early debt reduction. Nope: rightly or wrongly, shareholders will see Ryan Cohen buying shares and the corresponding SP increase and everyone—especially all new buyers who are delighted at their good fortune and swept up by Ryan Cohen Fever 2021—will start getting #WeWantCohen tattoos on their ass they’ll be so happy. And all of us, newly enriched by Ryan Cohen’s Big Canadian Balls and tactical brilliance, will crawl over glass to vote for him over The Boomer Artist Formally Known As GameStop’s CEO. I could be very wrong on this last point in particular, but if we start seeing 13Ds drop here shortly, things should get very fun very quickly.
Part 4: A Return to Our Short-Squeeze-to-Da-Moon Discussion: Who’s Side Are You Fucking On, Jim?
Now, Jim, given the fast friendship we’re creating here, and all we’ve been through over the past 5000 words, I hesitate in bringing this up. But we’ve all seen the video, Jim. You know the one I’m talking about. Yes, the one where you actually tell the truth about how short selling hedge funds manipulate the market to knock down the price of perfectly good securities that many hard-working people invest in—many normal-ass people all assuming they wont ever have to Point Where On The Dolly The Invisible Hand of the Economy Touched Them. But that’s not life now is it Jim? And fuck those poor-ass rubes for not knowing how to play the game with you sophisticated Masters of the Universe, amirite?
https://www.reddit.com/dashpay/comments/93evx4/jim_cramer_reveals_dirty_tricks_short_sellers_use/
https://dealbook.nytimes.com/2007/03/20/cramer-market-manipulato
So where are you in this whole GME/Cohen story, Jim? You candidly (gleefully?) acknowledge that a prime strategy that shorts deploy is to spread negative rumors that are then amplified by Big Smart Trustworthy Financial Media Titans like yourself to shake out unsophisticated retail players like my Rocket Kids here—who because of their tiny paper hands and you mean short selling brutes often subsist on paste and paste alone.
So for this particular security, are you the one helping with the manipulation and actively creating the “new truth” or are you just one of the Useful Idiots that these short sellers use to manipulate with an anodyne, TV media-ready comparison like: GameStop Is The Next Blockbuster? And how in the fuck does this fit into your Think Young(TM) project, Jim? Because if there is one thing that we over at WSB fucking hate, it’s a bunch of Manipulative Short Selling Boomer Fuckwads. Why on earth would a hip Young Thinker like you want to be included in that crew, Jim?
And I know we’re all friends here now, Jim, but I need to push back a bit on some of what you said in that video in such a cavalier whatareyagonnado manner. So if I understand you, short and distort and fomenting negative reactions from retail players based on deliberately false narratives is illegal, but still easy as fuck to do "because the SEC doesn't understand it." But you fucking do understand it, Jim! So why are you helping those short and distorters break the law here? Why are you being such an obtuse dumbshit? Just check out what happens to the borrow rate and short selling every time there is any good news for GME:
https://stocktwits.com/Slantedangles/message/264519950 (h/t @slantedangles). This manipulation isn't just happening with GME; it is happening everywhere. It’s baked into the cake. And that is pretty fucked up that we all just accept it because whatareyagonnado.
I think that one thing that those of us who truly do Think Young(TM) have a hard time understanding is at what point in your lives do you Boomers all finally come to realize that it’s maybe time to stop playing the game like you have been? What point do you finally have enough where doing the right thing matters more than getting paid? Maybe start by telling the truth more often—and maybe don’t go out of your way to help those corrupt-ass hedge fund managers who continually fuck over average people merely because they were stupid enough to believe you all. What contempt you Masters of the Universe have for all of them—for all of us. There is a bigger story here on GME and this out-of-control short interest (naked shorting, counterfeit shares) http://counterfeitingstock.com/CS2.0/CounterfeitingStock.html than even Ryan Cohen and the inevitable short squeeze we’re about to witness here. And it begins and ends with people like you and Melvin Capital and Bank of America not giving a fuck about the rules while thinking you’re smarter than the rest of us who do—but who lack power to do anything about it. And you know what? Maybe you are smarter than us. You certainly know how to play this game pretty well, as that video shows. But if I know my old school 1980s movies like I think I do, this is usually the part of the story where the rag-tag kids from across the tracks come over to show you hubristic rich fuckheads what happens when you fuck a stranger in the ass.
Now I myself have never dabbled in pacifism, Jim, so this isn’t too much of a stretch for me, but seeing that video of yours and seeing the insane short interest and all the manipulation here makes me want to burn the whole corrupt system to the ground—while barricading the doors to trap in those arrogant-ass short sellers who lie and cheat and distort to profit off average people. And though I’m certain that this larger battle is not driving him, maybe that result is one that Ryan Cohen wouldn’t mind too. Though he’s a polite Canadian and would probably just let everyone know that he’s not really mad, just disappointed. But me? I’m an Angry American and I say: Block the fucking doors and windows and light that shit up.
So maybe this epistle will be useful for your Think Young(TM) project and cause you to reflect a bit more on what’s really going on out there with this whole GME thing and the likely illegal shorting that has driven the short percentage of float to these insane levels, drawing in new retail shorts too stupid to know what’s even happening. Or maybe it wont cause you to reflect in the slightest (count me as one of those cynical types that see your overtures to WSB as a transparent play for greater market share from the Young Crowd since your old-ass audience is dying and/or switching to bonds). But in a few months when all the Billy Ray Valentines and Louis Winthorpes assembled here are toasting each other in stupid shirts on a white-sand beach somewhere, we do not want you to look back on your knee-jerk boomer-ass dismissal of GME and your Useful Idiot blathering with that same tinge of regret and longing you feel when you look at a pre-Client 9 picture of you and your old roomie: warm-toes-and-hosiery-enthusiast E. Spitzer, Esq.
In conclusion: GME = Blockbuster comparisons are for Simps and Corrupt Short-and-Distorters. Don’t be like them, Jim. And to my Rocket Children: the only weapon we wield in this stupid game is Diamond Hands with a float like this. Toughen the fuck up.
And Happy Holidays everyone.
--CPT Hubbard
TL/DR: Jim Cramer likes farm-based idioms and apparently being a useful idiot to scummy short selling hedge funds. DD on the GME turnaround is solid and overleveraged short sellers should be shitting themselves. Ryan Cohen, our polite, hard-working Canadian benefactor is about to rip all our fucking faces off and trigger a MOASS. Probably even by early March, if that time is good for you (he’ll text before he comes). And fuck infinite regress: It’s rockets all the way down here. 🚀🚀🚀 Now: diamond hands, motherfuckers.
**This is a shitpost and is only to be used as investment and life advice for Mr. Jim Cramer, Esq.

JK Rowling’s fast decline into blatant transphobia worried Bill Davis, president of Universal Orlando. He worried her comments would affect the number of guests they’d see at the Wizarding World of Harry Potter’s annual Christmas celebration. This led to a series of clandestine conversations between Bill Davis and then acting mayor of Orlando, Buddy Dyer. Buddy Dyer was asked to remove the protections on the wetlands surrounding the theme park so that Universal may begin construction on the Forbidden Forest, a brand new interactive attraction to counteract JK Rowling’s bad press.
Two years later, Buddy Dyer was convicted of corruption and forced to step down. The FBI found irrefutable evidence that Buddy had accepted bribes in return for hastily removing those wildlife protections.
A special election was called for and four main candidates came to the forefront. While the past mayoral election saw only Democrat affiliates, two Republican candidates rose to the occasion this time, splitting the options equally between the parties.
The conservatives were trying to piggy-back off of Florida’s overwhelming support for then President Trump. Bob Behr, one of two Republicans, was the acting CEO of Florida Natural orange juice. His platform borrowed a similar ethos as Trump, he’s an excellent business man capable of running the town like a business.
Then there was war veternan and two term city councilman Kerry James. His history building affordable condos for retirees in Kissimmee had already won him a large part of the 50+ crowd.
On the dems’ side, there was Aiden Gleason, a former televangelist pastor turned fiery politician promising to instate participatory budgeting and establish a cooperative economy to combat the city’s extraordinary poverty rate. In comparison to Aiden’s audacious character and plan of action, the other democrat looked like a rather dull moderate.
Zaffre Davis was a doctoral candidate at University of Central Florida getting his degree in Public Administration. Years of research had helped him craft a list of reasonably attainable goals that dealt with small civic matters such as lowering penalties for marijuana possession and raising sales taxes to renovate public transportation. But while a meek platform painted Zaffre as the most vanilla candidate, a secret double life actually made him into the most captivating option of the four.
Zaffre was in a lull between his campaign appearances, a carefully planned break between his open forum hosted by the political clubs at UCF and the first real debate. In these nine-days, he would slip away to Miami where he’d hop on a cruise where every passenger onboard would be dressed as an anthropomorphic character, including himself.
While most the voyagers aboard the Norwegian Joy were furries, Zaffre was a scalie. They were more or less the same community, with a key distinction between their classes of vertebrate, mammals or reptiles. The unique terminology first came about with the popularity of dragon costumes, but Zaffre’s imagination rarely went to mythology.
Zaffre’s character, also known as a fursona, was a Floridian caricature in the form of the official state reptile, Alligator mississippiensis. His name was Mason Miller the Concrete Filler. He was a single father of three operating a ready-mix cement truck for small residential projects. He’s an oldline Protestant and a conservative liberalist racking in about 50k per year.
Zaffre is Mason whenever he puts on his mask. Mason can befriend just about anybody, but he prefers to spend big meetups like this looking for like-minded folk. There’s an automatic connection between two people when they like a similar animal totem. Our favorite species is an indicator of what traits we most identify with in the animal. Is it their blood thirsty behavior or their natural shyness? Is it their cold-bloodedness or their ecstasy in the sunlight?
Scalies were a minority amongst the furries, but a growing one. As Zaffre made his way into the pool area for brunch he was happy to see what looked to be an iguana judging by the spiny dewlap under her chin. She had just pulled a fresh stack out of the waffle bar and placed it under the soft-serve dispenser. A ribbon of chocolate-vanilla swirl oozed out of the nozzle and curled onto the top waffle.
“Fantastic idea,” cheered Zaffre.
The iguana girl turned to face Zaffre. Zaffre looked at the back of her costume’s mouth and could see her real mouth smiling through.
“It’s just an ice cream sandwich,” she laughed.
“No, I’m talking about the spines on your back… those are tips from foam swords. You did amazing with the spray paint,” explained Zaffre. “Did you do that yourself?”
The iguana girl nodded. “You can get fake swords at the dollar store, two dollars each. Cost me maybe like fifty dollars total.” She held out her hand. “I’m Rachel by the way.”
“Mason,” said Zaffre, curling the gloves of their costumes together. “I’m jealous really. I’m not creative enough to make my own costume… or rich enough to get one customized. I just found this old mascot uniform on Craigslist. I at least cut off the felt shirt it was wearing. It had a big LOL on it.”
“Was it trying to be funny?”
“I think it was from Land O’ Lakes High School.”
“Never heard of Land O’ Lakes, except for the butter.”
“Well Florida’s a big state. Are you local?”
“I actually just moved here.”
“From where?”
“Cuba.”
“Green card or work visa?”
“...uh,” Rachel chuckled softly. “Am I being interrogated?”
“No! I don’t… I’m not judging, I’m just really deep into studying demographics. I’m legitimately curious as to where we come from and why we came.”
“I really can’t say.”
“Well… if it’s so much of a big secret. Why don’t I tell you a secret of mine first?”
Rachel shrugged and gave a small nod. It sounded like a fair trade.
Zaffre looked to his left, then looked to his right. Everyone was busy carefully scooping food into the mouth holes of their costumes. No one was looking at them. Zaffre quickly slid the head of his costume off, then immediately placed it back on.
“Okay?” snorted Rachel.
“I’m actually Zaffre Davis.”
Rachel shook her head in confusion.
“I’m running for Mayor of Orlando,” explained Zaffre.
“I don’t know you,” replied Rachel sternly.
“I’m running to replace Buddy Dyer…”
“I don’t think people care about mayoral elections as much as you think they do.”
“Well, every level of government is important, Rachel,” sighed Zaffre. “This is an important election and I’m an important guy.”
“So?”
“So… I don’t normally take off my mask. Ever. I’d lose voters if they knew I lived such a… fringe lifestyle.”
“And I’m supposed to reciprocate, now?”
Zaffre nodded.
“Your secret was weak. You haven’t even broken the law.”
“And you have?”
“Yes!” said Rachel, shrewdly. She widened her eyes with a serious expression. She looked around for eavesdroppers, then lowered her voice. “I came to Florida on a raft.”
Zaffre leaned in close and whispered. “So you’re undocumented?”
“Yes.”
“I didn’t know people still did the raft thing?”
“Wet feet, dry feet policy is gone, but the main incentive is still there. I’m a ninth grade dropout with no discernible skills. I figured I could join my mom in the streets soon as I looked old enough; or I could take a chance on America.”
“Well… are you happier here?”
“I live as a housekeeper in Key Biscayne,” answered Rachel. “This hasn’t been everyone’s experience, but in my case things worked out really nicely. I’m on a cruise, aren’t I?”
“Right…” replied Zaffre sullenly, “but it must be weird living with this constant threat of being discovered.”
“Yeah…” sighed Rachel. “It’s almost like the undocumented could use a strong voice in politics…”
“Yeah?” replied Zaffre, bashfully. “How about Aiden Gleason?”
“The weird minister lady? She’s running for Mayor now?” sneered Rachel “Zaffre, people can’t take her seriously. You need to advocate for us.”
“It’s not that simple. I’m supposed to be the moderate. I only make little splashes, big splashes scare away the older voters. They’re like ducks lying on a pond.”
“The middle’s moving inch by inch to the left every election cycle. Don’t tell me you can’t make undocumented workers a thing of centrism; it’s not like we’re new here.”
Zaffre looked down at Rachel’s breakfast. Her ice cream had melted into an ecru puddle which had soaked into the pores of her waffles. They’d darkened from their crisp yellow and had become something like a bread pudding.
“Look at all the trouble my flirting’s caused you,” griped Zaffre. “Allow me to get you a fresh stack.”
“This is flirting?” questioned Rachel, staring at him in disbelief. “Aren’t we just rambling about politics?”
“It’s not just rambling,” assured Zaffre. “Tune into the debate next Saturday and you’ll see, I’m taking this quite seriously.”
The first debate was held on stage at the Walt Disney Theater just down the street from Orlando City Hall. The event tickets sold out, filling the seats with roughly 2700 people. Normally a crowd this big could intimidate a first-time runner like Zaffre, but while Miller was good with one-on-ones, Zaffre was the opposite, finding a sea of eager listeners comforting. To him, falling on deaf ears was like claustrophobia.
Zaffre, Aiden Gleason, Bob Behr, and Kerry James all assembled on stage at 2PM. They all smiled and waved to the constituents invested enough to buy a ticket and wealthy enough to afford one. The audience wasn’t exactly filtered down to the elite but there was certainly an unnatural percentage of gynecologists and obstetricians amongst the crowd.
Local celebrity AJ McLean delivered the first couple of inquiries aiming to warm up the candidates with some straight forward questions and general fanfare.
“How do you feel about transportation options in our city?”
“If you could change one thing in our zoning code, what would it be and why?
“Go Orlando Magic?”
Once AJ’s softballs were finished conjuring up humdrum one-liners, local news personality Matt Austin followed up with the real sticklers.
“Hate groups such as Proud Boys, Patriot Front, and NSM are well documented in Orlando and greater central Florida. How are you going to take the steps to not only disavow these groups but actively dismantle them?”
“Simply put,” began Kerry James, “nobody on either side is above the law. Whether you’re Proud Boys or one of the many Black Hebrew Isrealite organizations, if you attack the citizens of the City Beautiful, their schools, their churches, or their businesses you will face criminal charges.”
“Well…” chimed-in Bob Behr following directly after his opponent. “As someone in the orange juice business, I’ll tell you what, Simply doesn’t cut it.” A forced laugh was suddenly squeezed out of the overly polite audience. “In all seriousness folks, I’ve mitigated potential bias in all forms at my bottling plants with monthly sensitivity seminars, a practice that can be mirrored politically through outreach programs that can lead our most vulnerable youths away from the influence of hate groups.”
“I just want to say,” Aiden Gleason quickly interjected, “am I the only one that feels like everything Bob Behr says is, ironically, unnatural.” A more organic laughter rose from the audience. “There’s a phoniness there that I think is fairly noticeable to our proud Orlandoans. You can’t treat them like their idiots Robert.”
“Well…” Bob Behr smiled nervously and leaned into his microphone to say something, but Aiden wasn’t finished, she hushed her opponent and continued her tirade.
“Kerry James, on the other hand, is all honesty, but I just think it’s interesting he can’t talk about hate groups without bringing up the Black Israelites. He loves turning any question into a way of appealing to frightened white people. It’s all very manipulative and very sad.”
“You’re one to talk about hate groups,” called out Kerry, “with so many links to Liberty Council.”
“Those are right wing conspiracy theories, Mr. James. We are here to discuss serious matters,” riposted Aiden, staring him down with a tall, confident stance. “Matters too serious for someone so young and naive as my fellow Democrat, Zaffre Davis. He’s barely legal and he wants to take on the responsibilities of mayor.”
“Wait…” mumbled Zaffre. “I, uh, I actually haven’t spoken yet.”
“It makes very little difference whether you do or don’t because I’ve seen your platform and it seems better suited for a spring break destination like Daytona or Panama than one of the most visited cities in the world. People don’t need more marijuana reform, Mr. Davis, leave that to the governors, let’s focus on fixing the raw moral fiber of this city.”
The crowd roared with applause. Zaffre panicked. He looked to the Republicans to see their responses. They looked relatively unphased, their phoney smiles barely wavering. They knew they could take some light beating from the Democrats without it affecting their mainly Republican voter-base, but Zaffre would be losing direct support. He needed to go against his timid nature and rebel or else risk being trampled. “I strongly object to these claims that I’m some sort of babe in the woods. I’ve actually studied this field of public service for eight years, while I believe your credentials are more suited for running a televised mass or a church bake sale.”
“A pastor has leadership experience, oration skills, a sense of right and wrong…” sneered Aiden. “An elitist’s education has made you small and earthly. These people are looking for bigger plans than yours!”
“Oh I’ve got… bigger plans,” stammered Zaffre. “I’ve got plans to… wage a war…”
“A war!” laughed Aiden menacingly. “A war on what?”
“The incarceration and deportation of undocumented workers.”
“Oh okay…” snorted Aiden. “And what exactly does this war entail?”
“Easy...” Zaffre took a moment to consider what he was about to say. Sticking his neck out like this was the first time he’d ever made huge waves. He could see all the ducks spreading their wings for lift off. “I’m gonna’... make Orlando into a sanctuary city.”
The crowd was silent. So was Aiden. There was this long awkward pause. Everyone was looking at Zaffre. Zaffre looked to the moderators.
“Maybe you could provide a little depth?” asked Matt Austin. “That’s quite a departure from your usual platform.”
“This isn’t a platform; this is an obvious attempt at usurping me,” sneered Aiden.
“We do find it incredibly jarring,” called out AJ McLean.
“It’s not jarring at all,” replied Zaffre. “It’s as middle ground as it comes. Undocumented citizens want our basic human rights. Those don’t exist on a political compass. They’re caught dead in the center with me. If anything, the Trump administration has pushed things too far right with overpowering ICE, I’m just trying to get things back to the status quo we’re all comfortable with. Every immigrant has a chance; a slim chance; but a chance even if they're here illegally.”
“Governor DeSantis has put bills in place to ban sanctuary cities,” puzzled Matt Austin. “Is this a coup?”
“The Supreme Court is clear: the federal government cannot commandeer state and local officials to help them enforce federal law. Banning sanctuary cities is forcing local law enforcement to follow the orders of ICE. That’s the overstep. I’m just taking a step back and bringing us back to the sweet, satisfying neutral position,” continued Zaffre. “Nobody has yet to challenge this sanctuary ban, but doing so would result in its immediate nullification.”
“This gives me hope, Jon. This gives me a lot of hope.” The next day Zaffre was in his car on a road trip south to Key Biscayne. He was playing any podcast that mentioned his name in their episode description. Up till this point, he’d only heard himself speak on 538, but currently he found himself being mentioned in something much more progressive-left, Pod Save America. Co-host Tommy Vietor was raving about Zaffre’s speech. “Tell me Jon, are we finally winning over the Reagan democrats?”
“You know relatively speaking; he’s actually kind of an early bloomer,” replied fellow co-host Jon Favreau. “Nancy Pelosi, Kamala Harris, and even Ruth Bater Ginsberg all started out relatively centrist only to really polarize in the later stages of their career. Zaffre might just be hitting this pubescence faster than others due to the day and age we’re in. Everything’s instantaneous… even our opinions.”
Zaffre’s fear of making waves waned as he listened to the progressives laud his decision, but then it returned full force as he realized he’d made headlines on the opposite end as well. Any of his balloters willing to consider the conservative opinion for balance would certainly be wondering if they could still trust him.
“He’s bringing illegal immigrants, many of which are responsible for violent crimes in their own countries, into close proximity with young children there to visit theme parks,” raged podcast personality Matt Walsh. “Maybe it’s naivety, or more likely it’s wreckless rhetoric trying to outdo the craziness of his current opponent Pastor Aiden Gleason…”
Blink. Zaffre shut off the podcasts entirely. He slipped on his gator mask and switched over to a playlist full of Whitesnake. This was Mason’s confidence music. He wanted a little mood boost before seeing his latest romantic fixation for the first time since their mutual cruise. They were meeting at her place of work in Key Biscayne; she was allowed a room on the property to house herself.
The house itself was a gorgeous two-story Mediterranean with what looked like enough space to fit two families, but outside of Rachel, there were only the two owners: Cobey and Albi Mansouri. The couple opened the door standing side by side. They were both handsome and young and dressed in dragon kigurumis modified so that the wings were ripped off. Cobey’s was green, Albi’s was blue.
The couple welcomed Zaffre into their living room with a pair of unblinking, flat faces. They then sat him down on a wingback accent chair that must have been custom made; there was a hole in the butt made specifically to fit the tail of a fur suit. Cobey and Albi took a seat across from him on a leather couch. It too had tail holes; one for each of the couple sewn relatively close together so that the two would be in contact as they sat.
Zaffre looked down at the coffee table between them; the surface was transparent and under the glass was a pile of sand with the symbol “乱” drawn into the grains. Zaffre looked back up. The homeowners were staring him down. “Is Rachel coming?”
“I mean she’s here, in the house,” said Cobey, coldly, “but she’s not coming out, not until we talk.”
“Oh.”
“Zaffre, are you aware that we could get in trouble for harboring an undocumented immigrant?” questioned Cobey. “And that’s, of course, in addition to putting poor Rachel into harm's way.”
“You probably should switch the order of your concerns next time,” suggested Albi. “Otherwise, it makes you sound selfish.”
Cobey glared at his husband, then turned his attention back to Zaffre.
“I’m… I’m not gonna’ tell anyone,” stuttered Zaffre.
“You see how do we know that and, even more importantly, how do we know you’re not going to hold these facts over our baby’s head to get her to… do things,” sneered Cobey.
“Zaffre, we don’t trust you,” sighed Albi. “I mean first and foremost, you’re a politician.”
“...a politician who just openly praised support for undocumenteds.”
“That makes us trust you less,” chuckled Cobey. “You’re fucking erratic, man. We don’t know what you’ll do next. You just took campaign advice from a stranger you met on a boat.”
“What can I say, I’m a moderate. We’re relatively shallow,” shrugged Zaffre. “One of the key features of being shallow is our propensity to listening to beautiful women. Let’s just thank the lord Rachel had something progressive to say.”
Albi turned to Cobey. His serious face broke. “He seems honest at least.”
“I know… I want to like him,” replied Cobey. “What did your outburst cost you?” he asked Zaffre.
“A few white votes; not as many as I thought. In return, I’ve officially gained a market share of the hispanic population.”
“That’s got to be nearly half of the voters,” replied Albi.
“In Orlando, it’s closer to a third… still can’t complain,” said Zaffre with a few short nods. “Well actually, I can. I’m still lacking in some important areas. Gleason’s still got the majority of the gay vote, which seems ripe for the picking. I just need a good approach. Maybe you two can help me?”
“What makes you think we’re gay?” questioned Cobey.
Albi elbowed Cobey in the side.
“Okay, yes, we’re gay,” shrugged Cobey. “In fact, I’m so gay that when I was bullied for being gay, I wished I was more gay just to spite them.”
Albi leaned over and gave Cobey a kiss on his cheek. “His dreams came true.”
“How important is the gay vote in Orlando?” asked Cobey.
“Well there’s plenty of gay men working in costume at theme parks…” explained Zaffre, “and then the Pulse night club shooting provoked a lot more to come out in support.”
“But I don’t understand, how do you not have the gay vote in Orlando?”
“I’m not gay, guys.”
“We know you’re not… but you do have a similar sexual situation…” said Cobey pointing at Zaffre’s costume.
“I don’t see the equivalencies.”
“You’re part of a sexual minority and you certainly keep that fact closeted,” replied Cobey.
“But are gay people okay with such a parity.”
“We’re gay! We’re telling you it is!”
“But you’re also furries, so you’re biased.”
Cobey sighed. “Regardless of whether the world thinks the two are the same, you just need to find the similarities yourself and use them to speak to the LGBTA heart-to-heart.”
Bzzz. Bzzz.
“Rachel’s texting me from upstairs,” said Albi. “She wants to know what’s taking so long?”
“Just go up there,” insisted Cobey, gesturing the direction of the stairs to Zaffre. “I think we’ve toyed with you long enough. You're no threat to us. It’s like you said, you’re moderate… you’re no threat to anyone.”
Zaffre took some slight offense from this vague denigration, even if it were something he’d say so himself. At the sight of Rachel however, any animosity would fade and she would have his full attention. Rachel was wearing nothing but a track suit, which may in fact actually seem like quite a lot outside of the furry community. But now, Zaffre could see her body shape unmasked by the jagged shape of an iguana suit.
“You want to see my terrace?” asked Rachel.
Zaffre nodded, he walked inside of her room and let her lead him to the sliding door on the sidewall. He stepped through and entered out onto a small balcony; just big enough to fit two people.
“You know I realize it’s an awful lot for someone in my position,’ said Rachel, “that doesn’t mean I don’t deserve it. I clean really well.”
Zaffre frowned. “I’m sorry if my recent fame might have… freaked you out?”
“I can’t be mad at you. I chose to tell you,” replied Rachel. “I was just finding it hard to contemplate that I’d just met you and now you're on my television and in my headphones.”
“You weren’t expecting me to say anything?”
“I expected you to say something along the lines of a symbolic gesture, I never intended for you to go to war with the governor of Florida.”
“Admittedly, I’ve never been afraid of Ron DeSantis. He’s worse than a moderate. He’s just a tool, like a weather vane. He points in whatever direction blows hardest.”
“You know I can’t say it doesn’t slightly attract me though…”
“What exactly?”
“The fact that you're ‘making waves’. The birds might fly away... but it attracts the predators.”
“Iguana aren’t predators, Rachel…”
“Yes, I know Zaffre, but I’m not dressed as the iguana right now,” she laughed. She reached her hands up to Zaffre’s shoulders. Then she placed her hands on the sides of his mask. Zaffre quickly grasped her hands and pulled them back down.
“You don’t want me to kiss you?”
“It’s not that…”
Rachel cocked her head and pointed to Zaffre’s mask. “You don’t want me to take it off?”
Zaffre nodded. “Mason handles the one-on-ones. I got problems with intimacy.”
“Fine,” conceited Rachel, “but you’re going to have to show me what’s possible with this suit on.”
Zaffre smiled. “Everything.”
The next debate was held at Orange County Convention Center where they could fit twice as large an audience as last time. Attending this debate was far more sought after than the last given the added media attention.
Matt Austin stayed on to host alongside distinguished moderator Martha Raddatz. This time the two were both playing hard ball. It almost seemed as though the two were in a competition to see who could break the debaters first.
“What are Orlando’s top priorities when it comes to public education?” asked Matt.
“How would you implement restorative justice in prisons and social work?” rose Martha.
“Should the Johnny Reb statue even be displayed in so much as a cemetery?” countered Matt.
“What makes you a good representative for the LGBTQ+ community?” topped Martha.
Bob Behr immediately began spouting off some bullshit about oranges. “Some of us have thick skin like the timeless navel orange, while others have thin skin like the youthful tangerine. It's the responsibility of we thick skins to protect you sweet, little clementines… I mean tangerines. Tangerines.”
“I think the gay community has done a great job representing itself,” followed Kerry James. “I will not stand in their way.”
“But will you lift them up, Kerry?” blurted out Aiden Gleason.
“Because Evangelists are known for lifting up gays...” replied Kerry, sarcastically.
“You’re a Christian too, Kerry, you know there’s been progress in every faith.”
Zaffre knew this was his time to strike. Both his opponents were stuck fighting the weight of their faiths. Zaffre, on the other hand, was agnostic, the most moderate religion. He could reach the gay population with his spotless record. He just had to word it correctly.
“There’s a lot of baggage that comes with siding with a church. The unassociated such as myself can promise the gay community a truly open minded perspective.”
“You're not exempt just because you don’t pray,” criticised Aiden. “You’re still identified as straight, white, and male, you don’t have a damn clue what these people have gone through…”
Zaffre begged to differ. He’d gone through some excruciatingly wild shit that he could bust out, but then he’d be comparing the scalies to the gays, and if he did that, he was no better than Bob Behr comparing gay people to fruit.
“I’ve been fucking poisoned,” outburst Zaffre. His opponents all went silent. Then the crowd followed. The hosts’ mouths gaped.
“Zaffre are you just saying weird shit now ‘cause you know it’ll get you on the news,” sneered Aiden.
“I’m just trying to relate,” explained Zaffre. “People could sense I was a little different and they did a horrible thing to me.”
“What? What did they do?” begged Martha Raddatz.
“So me and a friend thought it’d be hokey to spend Christmas in Christmas, Florida. We were convinced the little village would certainly do something special due to its namesake. We were disappointed to find that actually the lights and decorations seemed to taper off as you entered town. My friend convinced me to get a drink in order to make the trip worthwhile. We asked for two hot toddies. They came served with half a urinal cake slid onto the rim like a lemon wedge. Naturally we weren’t going to pay for what was certainly hot piss served in nick & norahs. They weren't gonna’ let us leave unless one of us finished our drink.”
“But why were they targeting you?” pushed Martha.
“Because…” Zaffre stalled. He couldn’t tell the truth, but he’d said too much not to follow through. He had to say something. “I’m gay?” He said it like he was asking a question. The crowd stared at him in confusion. “Yeah… because I’m gay.”
“Oh?” exclaimed Aiden. “You’ve never specified that before.”
“What can I say, I’m a moderate, we don’t lean on identity politics…”
“So did you drink the piss?” asked Matt Austin, topping his opponent’s prying with by far the most invasive question of all.
Zaffre nodded. “And if you elect me, no one else ever will.”
The crowd began to applaud. First a few snaps and pops, then the whole thing began to roar. Zaffre smiled, he took a moment to bask in his well deserved praise.
“But did you really deserve it?” asked Rachel. “It’s kind of a lie.” A few days later Zaffre had met up with Rachel, Cobey, and Albi to go pickup a new fursuit. Rachel and Zaffre sat in the back of the Alfa Romeo, while the Mansouris sat up front.
“It wasn’t really dishonest,” explained Zaffre to his friends. “It all really happened, it just happened because I was dressed like this. Not ‘cause I’m gay. But the later’s more palatable.”
“Right but then it’s still a lie,” rebutted Albi.
“If the two are equivalent why is it not okay to substitute one for the other?” shot back Zaffre. “You’re the one that said they’re the same...”
“You’re taking what I said too far,” sighed Albi.
“Your story made me so sad, Zaffre!” consoled Cobey. “I grew up in Redneck Riviera. I promise you we’re not all like that. There're so many backwoods bartenders who would die for the chance to serve an alligator some whiskey. Your costume is so cute!”
“Thank you.” Zaffre would have complimented their costumes back, but it turns out what he thought were their costumes earlier were actually just their pajamas. Cobey and Albi were having their real costumes custom made. Albi’s was being designed by Shinji Higuchi in a special effects lab in Japan. Cobey’s however was ready for pickup right there in Florida, back in Zaffre’s domain of Orlando, right in the Costume Department of the happiest place on Earth.
Zaffre watched in disbelief as the Imagineers wheeled out an impressive suit for a cartoonish-looking monitor lizard that could stand on its hindlegs. The eyes could move and follow people around the room. The tail was articulated and could wave about like a robotic tendril at the wearer’s whim. The mouth automatically moved to match the wearer’s words.
“How do you guys have so much money?” asked Zaffre.
“Well Cobey’s a coder and I’m a patent attorney,” answered Albi. “We met when Oracle infringed on Cobey’s method for managing failovers.”
“And you both just happened to be scalies?”
“Honestly a lot of my interests were all drug related,” explained Cobey as he began trying on his suit piece by piece. “But I was approaching thirty, so I needed to give new things a shot. Albi taught me all about his lizard character, and the stories he wrote about him, and it all sounded really fun, so together we made me one on GIMP. I’m a perentie!”
“What’s that?”
“It’s like Joanna the Goanna, she’s the evil lizard in The Rescuers.”
“I’ve never heard of The Rescuers.”
“Well it’s a Disney movie, Zaffre. That’s why it made sense for them to make my costume.” Cobey slid on the head of the costume and began posing for a scrawny camera man taking pictures in the corner.
Click. Click. Click. Three flashes went off capturing Cobey in a playful prone position, a sassy genuflection, and a jovial star posture.
“Does anyone else want to try it on?” questioned Cobey. “It’s really fun to operate.”
“I’d feel weird wearing out your new toy,” replied Zaffre.
“Oh, have some fun!” cheered Cobey. “You were kind enough to accompany me. And if you like it, maybe we could pay them to make one for you that looks like the alligator from Peter Pan!”
“I think that was a crocodile?”
“Close enough, Zaffre.” Cobey slipped off the helmet and undid the zipper on the back of the suit. “Come here and try it on.”
Rachel shoved Zaffre forward. “I wanna’ see you in it.”
Zaffre sighed and decided to give in. He took the bottom of the suit from Cobey’s hands and slipped it over his pants. Then he took the torso and put it on like a jacket. He bent over and had Rachel zip him up. Once she finished, he brought his head back up.
Click. Click. Click. Suddenly three camera flashes blinded Zaffre. “Woah, hey there cameraman,” chuckled Zaffre. “Wait till I get the mask on first, okay?”
The cameraman didn’t respond. He moved the lens off of his eye and began examining the pictures he’d taken on the little screen on the back of his camera.
“Excuse me, camera dude, can you actually delete that last one?” called out Zaffre.
The cameraman kept spinning the dial in the camera’s corner scrolling through the pictures he shot.
“Hey! I only want them taken with the mask on…” griped Zaffre, growing frustrated.
‘Well I want one with the mask off…” droned the cameraman. A sinister smile appeared across his face as he eyed the money making shot.
“Hey tell your camera guy to delete his photos!” shouted Zaffre at one of the costume designers.
“He’s not our camera guy,” answered the designer. “We thought he was with you?”
“He’s not!”
“Well he came in right behind you…”
The cameraman let go of his camera and bolted for the nearest door. As he dashed forward, the camera swung violently around his neck by the strap.
“What’s going on?” cried out Cobey, looking stunned.
Albi stepped forward with a grim expression. “I think Zaffre’s in deep water.”

The florida sky pushes down just a little bit harder than anywhere else and i can't fucking breath as soon as i step off the plane.
I'm half tempted to stop at the bar on my way out of the terminal but the vibrations from my pocket remind me that i don't have time, so i head to the baggage claim and wait for what seems like an eternity, hoping that every piece of clothing i own isn't lost somewhere else in the world.
I step out onto the curb and light the second to last of my Japanese cigarettes. I'm only able to savor the the difference in paper for a couple of minutes before a battered white pickup truck comes to a squeaky stop in front of me.
"Can't believe they actually let your ass back into the country" says Bobby from the drivers seat.
"I can't believe you still haven't changed your brake pads" I yell while throwing my luggage in the bed of the truck.
"Well my mechanic had a twentysomething crisis and fled the country" he chuckles.
I slam the door shut and we're off, swerving in out of Tampa traffic. Every time Bobby comes to a sudden stop i have a vision of bare metal slabs failing to catch the rotor and catapulting me through the windshield. The air blasting through the open window makes it a little bit easier to breath though, so i keep my mouth shut.
"So how was it man? The girls treat you good over there?"
I grunt and stare out the window watching the Tampa Bay fly by.
"What's crawled up your ass man? Don't tell me you're still hung up on that bitch."
The word stings a little, then I'm reminded that i shouldn't care and she was a bitch.
"It's true what they say man. It really is slanted over there" I laugh.
The tension is lifted and i lie a little for entertainment value. For the hour and a half ride back to the farm, my spirits are lifted by joking around and talking about all the things i did on my twentysomething crisis, but I still couldn't help but feel the weight of the world getting heavier as the exit numbers counted down.
"Take the next exit"
"I thought you were staying at the farm for now?" Bobby asked quizzically.
"I am, but why don't we stop and grab a beer at the pier first?" I answered. The pit in my stomach began to shrink as we roamed down the off ramp and the smell of salty air reached my nose.
We stopped at the same gas station where i had illegally bought the four locos that had me bedridden with third degree sunburn for days after senior skip day, ten years ago. With a new pack of breathers in my pocket i climbed back into the cab of Bobby's truck to find him staring at me with a devilish grin on his face.
"Great White Buffalo?" He chuckled.
I couldn't help but laugh, and despite my better judgment i agreed.
The great white buffalo was actually the white elephant, but that's not why we called the small tiki bar across the street from the beach by that name. I had known Bobby for years, and in turn he knew if i ever wanted to get a beer on the beach it was because i was fucked up over some girl. The great white buffalo was just the first, and most notorious of them all.
The bar was really just an outside patio with a straw thatched roof. To one side you had a view of the sand dunes that blocked off the beach from the road, and to the other was a dock that offered the extravagant sight of well kept boats that never seemed to move. It was a tourist trap and the drinks were expensive, but no one we knew went there, so we could pretty much talk shit about anyone.
"So what are we calling this one then?" Bobby asked as he sank into a bar chair.
I ordered a gin and ginger then screwed my face up in thought. "I don't know man, nothing comes to mind"
"Well then she's a nobody and we shouldn't be here"
" That's not true man they didn't all have..."
I was cut off by bobby taking a swig of his beer and slamming it on the counter. The bartender, who was returning with my drink rolled her eyes at the foam that was starting to volcano out of his bottle.
"GWB" Bobby raised his left thumb and his eyebrow. "Buttercup, Foxy the slut, The Cheshire Cat, Strawberry-no-ass, FUCKING FISH EYES MAN!"
"Woah man, fish eyes was all you bro, I'm not taking credit for that" I shot a glance at the bartender. She looked extremely annoyed.
Bobby cocked his head to the side and lifted one more finger to prove a point.
My eyebrows narrowed. "Don't you dare say it."
"I'm only not because I'm pretty sure she's a demon and will spawn in front of us if i do."
"I get it, I suck with women." My head slouched a bit lower after i took a sip of my drink, but oddly enough i could breathe fine.
"Nah you don't man" he said quieter. "You just actually like em, but that's my entire point. If she's got a nickname you loved her, if she don't then she don't matter"
I spent the entirety of Bobby's tirade staring at my drink, so i failed to notice him checking the clock after every sentence, or the fact that he had is hand on his pants pocket, gripping his phone through the fabric.
I only noticed when he slammed the rest of his beer and jumped up from his barstool. "Welp i gotta run, you got these right?"
For a second i thought he was joking, but then he bolted for the door, which caused the bartender to appear in front of me with an icy stare. I fumbled with my wallet for a few seconds before i quickly shoved some money into her hand and started after him, but i only got to the end of the bar before a sharp voice called out out behind me.
"Hey asshole! We take dollars here not whatever art project this is"
I spun around to find the bartender holding up a 10,000 yen note and realised i hadn't hit the atm yet.
"Here, hold on to this I'll be right back" I shot my bank card across the bar and it slid off the other side, forcing the bartender to bend down and pick it up with a groan.
Bobby's truck pulled up to the doorway just as i was about to step outside. He rolled down his window and had the widest shit eating grin on his face.
"Real funny asshole, i have to go in and finish paying!"
Bobby said nothing, he just stepped on the gas, causing the truck to lurch forward a bit.
Catching on to his game, i turned around to head back into the bar.
"Yo Alex!" He screamed over the sound of his engine. "Want to see a magic trick?"
Even though i knew he was fucking with me i couldn't help but turn back around. As soon as i did, he slammed the accelerator down and took off down the street with literally everything i owned in the bed if his truck.
I didn't have time to care though, because where Bobby's truck had just been, now stood the great white fucking buffalo herself.

I'm gonna give a brief warning, this world was made partially out of a joke campaign idea, and with that it has some stereotypes and at times racism towards fantasy races. Also has some political views that I don't necessarily agree with but find hilarious for this. Warning over. (Tamer than I thought it would be but still not for people who are extremely sensitive towards racism or stereotypes)
The US (The United States is filled with different stereotypes and where everything is centered around)
Each State has a different race or species inhabiting them. For example, California has the Wood Elves, they think they are better than everyone but get freaked out when there is even a slight spark. Florida has the Lizardfolk/Lizardmen, they are a very dumb race that does anything and everything for food, even attempting to live with the other races, often resulting in crazy crimes and/or hijinks. Home to actual hell (more on that later) The US often thinks of themselves as the best country because of it's military power and it's food. Main contender in the war, thinks they'll win this one. The party has to help with the Presidential election of 20XX goes smoothly. The Presidential campaign is Burn McSand, Tronald Lump, Wheelchair Steve, and and actual Toaster™.
Presidential Canidates
Burn McSand with his slogan "Feel the McBurn in your heart!" He is trying to fix healthcare by giving everyone five dollars and a crisp handshake, also gives out Iums™(noticeably a Tums bottle with the top of the T scratched off) for people who have heartburn. Tronald Lump, tries to feel up everyone's chest to check for lumps/cancer. His father died to lump cancer and he has sworn to stop anyone from dying from lumps ever again. He was given a small loan of "a trillion gold" and wants to "build a wall have a ball" to keep out the illegal space aliens. Wheelchair Steve, just a normal guy in a wheelchair. Can also turn into a dragon at a moment's notice. Sleeps on a pile of gold and keeps pretty women captive in his castle condo, but don't worry they want to be there. He has to legally say that. Toaster™ Literally a toaster. One thing that's weird about it is it wants to kill everyone. (Very much a reference to FNV)
Germany
Hitler is back and he is madder than ever. New Zombie Robo-Lich Hitler is throwing a tantrum he lost last time. Wants to kill "Ze juice" and make a superior lich kingdom, a lichdom if you will. Everyone will be a lich. Mind you he was not legally a lich until a week ago. Twirls his tiny mustache everytime he sees someone and is almost always petting a cat while in a swivel chair.
Anyone who is not a full blooded lich is held captive and forced to go to the worst place in the Universe, then sent to a mental hospital for everyone's safety.
The Moon
Breathable atmosphere, safe to inhabit but no one does because it is a rock. Has the Lost City of Atlantis. Has super important Mcguffin to defeat the BBEG, AKA Robo-Hitler. Underneath surface is a lot of cheese, like more than one would get if they never told the waiter to stop at an Olive Garden.
Reason for the War
Robo-Hitler got risen up when his phylactery got moved from deep underground up to the surface, he came back and wanted revenge. France, Britain, Russia all didn't notice until this guy with dragons came knocking on there door during tea time for the leaders. They literally didn't know dragons existed. The US gets involved because Robo-Hitler in his drunken state tells Japan to do the thing again and threatens to do worse to them if they don't. Literally everyone is involved except Greece, they are just having sex like the good old days, also they have their own problems like Sparta becoming a super power among them. Also Hitler thought the Pancor Jackhammer is a good weapon so the US has to be involved because of some Courier in the Nevada.
Actual Hell
Although California is home to the Wood Elves that are scared of fire, it is literally hell. It's not that you can't even leave or anything just traffic is bad, fires everywhere, there pollution and so Devils decided to reside there. Perfect conditions to screw with people. Plus it costs your soul to live there win win for the Devils.
Mind you guys there is a lot more I can write but I am getting tired and I have all of this and more on some notebook paper that I can barely read. Wrote this in the middle of the night after I was told a joke idea for a campaign, and thought it was a good idea. If you have any suggestions for this I would love them

"Perhaps that’s been the story of life." - The president, on whether rich NBA players should get testing priority

Racism Against The Clock

President Trump told reporters that COVID-19 just “snuck up on us,” a day after claiming that he’d “always known” it was a pandemic. Another instant classic from the artist who brought us the chart-topping hit, I Alone Can Fix It (I Don’t Take Responsibility At All).

• Buckle up, things moved quickly today: The U.S. and Canada have agreed to close their border to “all nonessential travel” indefinitely. Trump announced today that he would sign the Defense Production Act, a law enacted in 1950 that allows the president to force businesses to make materials necessary for national defense—in this case, ventilators and medical protective equipment. Trump later clarified in a tweet that he didn’t plan to actually use this power anytime soon. Tremendous! Meanwhile, the Pentagon will free up five-million masks, and up to 2,000 deployable ventilators. The Department of Housing and Urban Development will suspend foreclosures and evictions through the end of April, and the Federal Housing Finance Agency has instructed Fannie Mae and Freddie Mac to do the same for 60 days. Much of the response is outlined in a new federal virus plan, which warns that the pandemic “will last 18 months or longer,” based on health experts’ estimates of when a vaccine will be available.
  
• Key agencies across the government are still sitting on the sidelines, waiting to be ordered into action. Gov. Andrew Cuomo (D-NY) said Trump had agreed to dispatch a 1,000-bed naval hospital ship to New York Harbor, but that it will take weeks to arrive. With more tests becoming available, New York has seen a sharp spike in confirmed cases: The state now has over 2,900 confirmed cases, up more than 1,000 since Tuesday. Dr. Deborah Birx offered an important reminder in today’s briefing: We’re about to see case numbers skyrocket across the country. That doesn’t mean social distancing isn’t working, it means we’re finally testing people who aren’t incredible at basketball. Keep staying home.
  
• The Senate finally passed the second coronavirus stimulus package after Sen. Rand Paul (R-KY) delayed the vote by proposing a garbage amendment to deny child tax credits to people without Social Security numbers, and pull the military out of Afghanistan. The White House’s estimated $1 trillion plan for the next stimulus package is still in flux, but currently includes two $1,000 checks to many Americans, $300 billion to help small businesses avoid mass layoffs, and $50 billion for the airline industry. Meanwhile, the administration put a “temporary pause” on health experts testifying before Congress, shortly after Dr. Anthony Fauci told lawmakers that the lack of testing at the outset had been a government “failing.”
  

To distract from its deadly failures, the Trump administration has dialed up the racism.

• Trump referred to COVID-19 as “the Chinese Virus” in four separate tweets today, as well as from the White House briefing room. Yesterday CBS News correspondent Weija Jiang reported that a White House official called the virus “Kung Flu” in front of her; asked about that remark, and about Trump’s favorite new term, Kellyanne Conway replied, “I’m married to an Asian.”
  
• The administration has also exploited the pandemic as an opportunity to turn back asylum seekers. A new rule set to be announced this week will direct Border Patrol agents to immediately return to Mexico anyone who crosses the southern border between legal ports of entry, without due process.
  

President Trump hopes that by declaring himself a wartime president, falsely claiming he’s taken this crisis seriously all along, and trying to start a xenophobic culture war, we’ll all forget that he downplayed coronavirus, failed to respond in the critical early weeks, and still isn’t moving fast enough. It’s up to Democratic leaders to make sure the country doesn’t lose sight of the truth.

Look No Further Than The Crooked Media

All of us are feeling the impact of the coronavirus pandemic, but there are some people and communities who need extra support. If you’re looking for a way to help those in need, Crooked’s Coronavirus Relief Fund spreads your donations equally to groups providing critical support to food banks, health care workers, restaurant workers, seniors, kids who depend on school lunches, and others. Donate at https://crooked.com/coronavirus →

Under The Radar

Joe Biden swept all three primaries on Tuesday in Florida, Arizona, and Illinois, establishing a wide delegate lead over Bernie Sanders. Biden’s winning coalition looked much the same as it did in previous victories, and Sanders failed to expand his smaller coalition of young and very liberal voters. A large majority of voters in all three states said they felt Biden was better equipped to handle a major crisis. In-person voter turnout was down due to the current deadly global pandemic situation, but early voting and vote-by-mail seem to have made up for it. Sanders hasn’t dropped out of the race, but is assessing his campaign after a rough night.
In a key progressive victory, Marie Newman defeated Democratic incumbent Dan Lipinksi in his Illinois House primary. Lipinski is anti-choice, opposed the Affordable Care Act, and narrowly beat Newman to keep his seat in 2018. Lipinksi had taken over representation of Illinois’ third district from his father, who first won the seat in 1982.

What Else?

Rep. Mario Diaz-Balart (R-FL) has become the first member of Congress to test positive for COVID-19.
ICE said it will temporarily halt most enforcement operations, and won't carry out any arrests at or near medical facilities.
Unite Here, the leading labor union for hospitality workers, said it expects 80 percent to 90 percent of its 300,000 members to lose their jobs. Layoff numbers across states and industries are already overwhelming.
A 5.7-magnitude earthquake hit near Salt Lake City, UT. It was the strongest earthquake to hit the state since 1992, and knocked out power to 55,000 homes. It also knocked the trumpet off of a Mormon temple’s angel statue.
The Dow has erased all gains it made since President Trump took office, and the plunging S&P 500 triggered an automatic trading freeze for the fourth time in two weeks.
Dale Cabaniss, director of the government’s Office of Personnel Management, resigned abruptly yesterday. John McEntee, the 29-year old head of the Presidential Personnel Office, reportedly drove her out as he continues to stock the administration with friends and Trump loyalists.
Facebook had a bug that was marking articles about the coronavirus as spam. Facebook said it started working on a fix as soon as it discovered the issue, and will bring back the blocked posts.
Oh neat, people are panic-shopping for guns.
Tom Brady left the Patriots and is expected to sign with the Tampa Bay Buccaneers. You know, in the hypothetical, fantastical future-world where sports exist.
New York Times columnist Bret Stephens picked a wild time to go to bat for Woody Allen. Bret Stephens, as the world grinds to a halt amidst a deadly pandemic and economic recession, and earthquakes knock trumpets from the hands of angels: “Cancel culture has gone too far.”
Tom Hanks is doing fine and getting his ass kicked by Rita Wilson in gin rummy.

Be Smarter

Volunteers in Italy used 3D-printing to replicate medical valves needed for life-saving coronavirus treatments, and distributed them to a hospital in short supply. The medical device manufacturer that typically produces the valve (at a cost of thousands of dollars) refused to release their design files for the purpose of quickly replicating the valves to respond to the outbreak. The professor who recruited Cristian Fracassi and Alessandro Romaioli for the project said the company had threatened them with legal action—that’s been disputed by the volunteers themselves, who say the company told them copying the valve was illegal, but hasn’t issued a direct threat. Fracassi and Romaioli managed to reverse-engineer the device and print replicas at a cost of around $1, which have helped providers treat at least 10 patients.

Is That Hope I Feel?

In today's edition of NOT EVERYTHING IS BAD WE PROMISE:

• The coronavirus bill Congress just passed has limitations, but it does guarantee free COVID-19 testing to all Americans, including those without insurance.
  
• A growing number of cities and states have temporarily suspended evictions.
  
• The Las Vegas Sands has closed its Nevada properties (including The Palazzo and The Venetian), but the company will continue paying employees while the resorts are closed, and won’t affect health insurance eligibility.
  
• Top athletes and coaches, including Stephen Curry, Shaun White, Michael Phelps, and Simone Biles are raising money for the Center for Disaster Philanthropy.
  

Enjoy

Joel Kim Booster🏻 on Twitter: "Maybe put them back.

Scientists say that black holes are some of the most powerful and beautiful forces in the universe. The collapse of a star creates a magnetic pull so strong that nothing, not even light; can escape it’s all consuming hunger.
Brighter Futures is a black hole in every sense. Everyone and everything that goes there is never the same. Myself included.
When I first caught wind of them, almost 4 months ago; it was nothing more than a routine case. Two employees, Sophia and Oliver; killed by their coworker Bernard Walker. It was a pretty open and shut case.
Or so I thought. Little did I realize that Brighter Futures hypnotic pull would cast its spell over me until it became something of an obsession. They took everything from me. First and foremost, my daughter Sarah; a temp by the name of Jason had called me out of the blue one day to say she was going to die. Something inside me snapped when I heard that threat. And something inside me died when that threat came true.
After that point I devoted every waking moment to uncovering the secrets of the company. And I got pretty good at it too. Just a few months back, when the Salem branch shut down; I was offered a promotion a few cities over in Evergrove. Detective first class, I got to call the shots for once. Pick my own cases.
I used that to focus more on the mystery of Brighter Futures starting with Danny Albright, a man who until July 2019 was dead for 10 years.
My biggest lead was one that I regret not following immediately, the Star Storage System. According to older police reports, it was directly connected to the company as a third party data entry collections agency; but my own fiddling with it close to the end of July told me that it was so much more. The thing had records for not only to the start of the Salem branch in 1989, but even some that were dating back to the early 30s and 40s. A motherload of information on every single employee that had ever been through those glistening double doors.
As I read file after file, the warning that Jason had given me regarding Brighter Futures always stayed close in mind. These documents showed hiring dates, quickly followed by swift turnovers and it was easy to see a pattern. They correlated to a crime or the passing of a particular individual. And the computer was recording every single action they took before their untimely departure. It seemed uncanny for a system so old to be able to function so well, and I didn’t fully understand its significance until a sweltering August night when a young man entered our precinct carrying a model of the system every bit as ancient as mine.
“Are you Detective Marlin Malevich?” he asked.
“In the flesh. Who are you?”
“Maddox, Maddox Delaney; I’m a digital forensic examiner and I believe I have something for you,” he said, showing me the drive he had brought. “Who sent you here?” I wondered as I examined it.
Maddox was quiet, seemingly haunted by whatever he had uncovered in the code. “Do you think it will be enough?” he asked as I told one of the other officers to start writing a list of the items he had brought in.
“Enough for what?” I asked.
“To put a stop to Brighter Futures,” he said. I could see in his eyes that they had likely already gotten to him, perhaps by means of this system; so I offered him a vague response and promised to notify him as soon as I found something.
Inwardly though I was eager to dive into what this secondary drive had to show. As soon as the others in the bullpen were gone, I wasted no time activating the system to a grainy screen of stars and symbols.
Maddox had made sure not to log out, and I found myself staring at the profile of a Ralph Emerall; a physician who until recently had also disappeared from the public eye according to the file. Then I realized that these archives were not ancient history, but actually being updated rather frequently with the most recent entry stating that Doctor Emerall had made arrangements for his pharmaceutical company to merge with Brighter Futures.
Warning bells went off inside my head. Why would a Suicide prevention center agree to be partners with a drug company? Were they offering counseling? Therapy? Rehabilitation?
None of the above, I soon discovered. Instead both corporations were advertising a supposed wonder drug called Tetheret, and just the ad alone was enough to convince me that this was another dark secret. Worse still, the files showed that Emerall was using his employees to take out members of the Brighter Futures corporation! Logan Hall and his brother Caden, apparently were both on the payroll as enforcers of Ralph’s twisted schemes.
The next day I called in a few favors and arranged a flight to Florida. I decided that if I was going to find out what this Doctor Emerall was up to now, the easiest way would be first hand encounter as an undercover operative.
The change in scenery did a lot for me, instead of the stuffy Washington climate I found myself reinvigorated by the sandy shores and beautiful beaches. But it was more than that, I must admit; because shortly after my arrival in Melbourne I found myself spending time with a woman that changed my trajectory entirely.
As part of my cover, I applied for a position as an intern at the nearest BFSH branch and found myself under the tutelage of a stunning woman by the name of Vanessa Stringer. Everything about her screamed she was as strong and sexy as she wanted to be. Oftentimes, Vanessa could just look at any man and make them do what she wanted and I suppose I was truly no exception. Plus it gave me the opportunity to run errands over to the nearby clinic, Dr. Ralph’s base of operations.
Every time I was there, I took time to listen and learn what was happening. A lot of employees were coming and going everyday, all eagerly getting their dosages of Tetheret like it was candy. Many of them often left looking different, as if it changed their entire being. It didn’t take adding two and two to figure out that the drug was likely addictive in some form or another. And amazingly Emerall was bold enough to continue to get a couple of his employees to sell other illegal products on the streets.
Super shrooms, the locals called them; said to make a grown man feel like he had the strength of twenty. And the way Doctor Ralph’s partner and his security guard offered them to anyone willing to bite…. I knew it had to be a pyramid scheme of some sort.
I mulled it over for a few days, trying to put the pieces together as I tried my hardest not to be distracted by Vanessa again and again. Somehow or another we often found ourselves in the breakroom alone and she started up a conversation about my hard work at the company.
“It isn’t often we have employees with such a spirit, your dedication is unrivaled,” she told me one day.
For reasons I didn’t understand at the time, I felt compelled to tell her everything. She was so seductive, so enticing. I saw no reason to not let her know the truth behind all of my investigation.
“Oh my,” was all she said at first after I finished the spill about the Star Storage System.
“You know… I’ve always admired a man in uniform,” she growled as she tugged at my tie and added, “Knows how to get a job done right.”
I let loose my inhibitions and gave in. I didn’t care about finding any more secrets, all that mattered was her. She insisted we go back to my apartment.
Inside the door, we couldn’t get each other’s clothes off fast enough. I was an animal in heat.
The entire experience likely lasted no more than ten minutes, but I was definitely in heaven.
When we were done, she seemed satisfied and remarked; “Pleasure doing business with you Detective.”
Then she picked up her bra and trotted out as I struggled to catch my breath and return back to Earth.
That was when I realized something was missing. The Star Storage System.
I frantically tried to find it amid my clutter, only at last to recognize the true significance of my rendezvous with Vanessa. She had taken it.
But why? It made no sense at first. I even considered confronting her about it the next day until I found out from my supervisor William that she was out of the office for a few days.
“Went up to the new branch for the grand opening ceremony, or so I hear,” he said casually as he checked his watch and remarked, “Hey you normally do errands for Ralph right? Can you give me a ride over there? I’m having lunch with my sister.”
As we walked out of the office I took a moment to check my phone and found myself puzzled over what I saw on the calendar. The grand opening for Paradise had been well over a week ago. Suddenly being near to William made me feel nervous. Why would he lie about Vanessa’s whereabouts?
“Does Miss Stringer often make trips like this?” I asked as we made it to my Chevy.
“She always seems to have a lot of time to juggle with,” William admitted as I used my remote activation to start it.
“She said something about trying to find out what Doctor Ralph and Auset were really up to, so I figure it had to be important,” he added.
My mind instantly thought back to those first articles Maddox had insisted I look at.
The drug trials. Tetheret. The mysterious addiction. The hit list. Was Vanessa connected to it? And if so, why didn’t she simply ask for my help, especially since I had told her that I was trying to uncover the truth?
I decided right then and there that I needed to talk to the man behind the curtain himself and as soon as we made it to the clinic I approached the pretty young receptionist and barked an order. “I need to speak with Doctor Emerall immediately, my name is Marlin Malevich, I’m a Detective from Washington and I have reason to believe he is involved in an illegal drug operation here,” I said flashing my badge. It made her jump.
“Sorry… s-s-Sir but Doctor Ralph took a personal day for a high school reunion. He isn’t here,” the reception admitted.
“Fine. Then just show me all the files he has on his current patients,” I ordered.
“I can’t do that sir,” she admitted.
“Young lady I have reason to believe that just about every employee in this clinic is likely on the doctor’s payroll for smuggling shrooms across the entire United States. Now you can either help me with this or I can charge you with obstruction.”
“Hey hey hey, what is all this about?” William asked as he stormed in behind me.
“This doesn’t concern you,” I barked back. “Like hell it doesn’t! You don’t just come barging in here and accusing my sister of aiding and abetting!” he snarled.
I huffed in frustration. I knew of course I would need a warrant before I did anything serious. But with the Star Storage System gone, and Ralph now mysteriously disappearing as well; I felt certain that my time was running out.
“You don’t understand. Doctor Ralph might possibly be a danger to himself and to others!” But Will wasn’t listening to me. His arms were crossed and he was stubborn. I was on my own.
“A monkey would have more brains than you!” I snapped at him, storming off.
Despite the obstacles in my path, I did manage to make it to Wisconsin to find out what the doctor had been up to; albeit a day late and perhaps many dollars short.
Serenity Falls looked like it had seen better days when I arrived. News reports told me that a wild fire which had started somewhere in the downtown area had torched nearly half the town.
It took less than a few minutes to reach the local precinct and talk to a dispatcher by the name of Haskins to discover that Ralph had never shown up for his high school reunion. Another hour after that, I spoke to witnesses who insisted he had been near the Preston Heights apartments. Grind zero for the fire apparently.
That was where I found myself staring at a ghost. The charred remains of a man I had put behind bars what seemed like ages ago. Bernard Walker. And at that moment, staring at his confession and learning what Ralph has done; I realized once again how everything always connected back to Brighter Futures.
The landlord gave me more info on Bernard, how he had been living under a different name and working as a 911 dispatcher alongside Haskins.
“He seemed like a nice enough fella, often obsessed with ranch but besides that… I never would have known he was a killer,” Haskins admitted when I questioned her. There was little else I could there. I had more than enough word of mouth to put Ralph away for life. He was a cold blooded killer and likely a sociopathic mad scientist.
On the way back to Florida though, Part of me actually admired his methods. The way he took matters into his own hands like some vigilante. Justice hadn’t changed Bernard after all, his suicide note was clearly evidence of that; but the way Emerall had swooped in and made him pay for his sins… it felt like proper divine retribution.
It made me wonder if perhaps what Emerall was doing for Brighter Futures might be the same thing. Was he too trying to bring justice to Brighter Futures in his own bizarre way?
My gut told me yes. My gut told me that I needed to find out what that was. So, as I patiently watched and waited I said nothing about his crimes other than what was mandated by the law. I pretended to start an investigation on his clinic as instructed by both law enforcement and the BFSH internal affairs department.
But did I give him more than enough time to close shop and disappear again? Certainly. Because this time, I had an ace up my sleeve. See, I actually warned Ralph about what was happening beforehand. It was a casual conversation during my interview with him, but the doctor had been smart enough to pick up on the subtle hints that I was dropping. How he was in danger. How he needed to run and to hide or those who were trying to stop him would find him and do it before I ever slapped cuffs on him.
And his departure from Melbourne told me he got the message. A letter a few days later from somewhere near Salem also told me, that he needed my help.
I was expecting concise instructions on how to find him. But instead he only scrawled a single name. Troy Harte.
And then it came full circle back to Brighter Futures.
Troy Harte, estranged husband of Regina Harte; the loss prevention specialist who had hired Maddox in the first place to research the star storage system.
Troy Harte, a pencil pusher at the Emerald Bay Branch of BFSH who recently committed suicide and left the most bizarre journal I have ever laid eyes upon.
But reading those thoughts of a mad man reminded me of my early days looking into the company. How I suspected there were forces at work that I clearly didn’t understand pulling the strings. Troy claimed to have met those forces face to face.
And most intriguingly, he left a map to where he claimed I could uncover the truth. It felt like it was meant for me when I found it. Given how far I and come to learn the truth about Brighter Futures, the Star Storage System and Doctor Ralph; I didn’t hesitate to follow the instructions to the letter.
The map led me to a place that resembled a camping ground. Acres and acres of untouched wilderness. And a massive Sequoia tree where according to Troy, Ralph had imprisoned people to run ghastly experiments on them.
Moving through the tunnels beneath the tree led me to find this place, a mock clinic that resembled the one back in Florida down to the ceramic tiles and bland wallpaper.
But the place was empty, save for the journal of a patient who provided insight into his final days there. It also told me that Doctor Ralph was sadly dead.
I felt a crushing weight upon my body to learn this news. I had hoped that my efforts to give him more time would work, but instead staring at the dying roots of another mysterious tree within that faux clinic; I knew it was too late. Ralph was gone. The work he had been doing to put a stop to Brighter Futures was gone as well.
Everything had gone to hell. And me? I was pissed off.
How could I get so close to the truth only to have it snatched away again? How could people who worked for Brighter Futures like Ralph’s former security detail roam free despite all the insurmountable evidence they likely had committed crimes as well? And why did so many people have to suffer simply because this man had been so bent on taking down what was likely the most dangerous company on earth?
I didn’t think I would ever get answers to any of these burning questions. But I sure as hell found a way to get some of it unraveled. When I made it back to Florida, I immediately tracked down Logan, the security guard from Ralph’s clinic and brought him in for questioning. A few hours later, his brother showed up and I found myself with an opportunity to learn once and for all what this was all about.
I placed them in separate rooms and told them the same thing.
“I know that Doctor Emerall has asked you and your brother to do some work for him off the books… during my initial investigation of this clinic I found a second set of accounts that detailed a hit list he had of people that Brighter Futures wanted gone. Now, I’m going to make this easy for you. You can confess to which of these crimes you committed, and let your sibling go free for the ones you didn’t. Or you can tell me which ones your sibling committed and you can go free.”
Then I left to take a phone call, hoping that the brothers would stew in their separate rooms and decide to rat one another out.
I was feeling confident that I would get something out of at least one of them, but that attitude fell apart in seconds when I answered the phone.
“Detective Malevich speaking.”
“It’s Marlin… isn’t it?” the weak strained voice said over the phone.
“Yes… who is this?” I asked.
“William… William Thatcher. We met a few weeks ago… I… I don’t know where else to go or who to turn to… my sister Daisy she… she just…” he broke into tears over the call. He didn’t have to finish the sentence for me to know what had happened.
“What can I do to help?” I asked him.
“It’s that Emerall, the one you were investigating a few weeks back. He fired her. And she lost everything. She was my everything Detective. And I know that Ralph may be gone… but those bastards that did this to her need to pay!!” he screamed.
I thought about Logan and his brother in the other room. How I planned to make them slip up and confess to their crimes to learn more about Ralph. “I can handle it from here, Will,” I promised him.
Stepping back into the first interrogation room, I gave Caden an ultimatum.
“Just got an anonymous tip. Seems that Ralph was using both of you to launder money and drugs. Now, that’s enough to put you and your brother away for a few years… but not nearly as severe as murder so I’m going to make you a deal. Confess to this lesser crime and get a lesser charge. Otherwise, chances are your brother is going to sell you out and pin this whole murder on you,” I told him point blank. And of course I offered his brother the same thing.
They both wound up selling each other out. 7 years in prison for aiding and abetting a wanted fugitive. And best of all, I found out that Doctor Ralph had in fact been doing something far more serious; they told me about a set of white tapes that would reveal he was attempting to create human super soldiers for some doomsday scenario and that the proof I needed could be found at Paradise.
I was so pleased with myself that I went out that night for a round of drinks at the club.
As I took a few shots and pat myself on the back, I looked toward one of the strippers and gave her a grin. It felt like things were finally going my way as she slid down the pole and started doing a lap dance for me.
Amid my drunken stupor though, I suddenly realized I recognized this gorgeous woman.
“Vanessa?” I said with a loose jaw as she too had shock written on her face. “Marlin? What are you doing here?” she asked.
“I would ask you the same thing!” I guffawed. Before I knew it, we were talking like two old friends. And before I knew it, I was telling her once again all about the case against Brighter Futures and Doctor Ralph. She seemed especially intrigued by the white tapes I was now hunting.
“And did these two bad guys you roughed up say exactly where these tapes might be found?” she said coyly as she trailed her finger across my lips.
“As a matter of fact they did. Up in Paradise. I have a friend who works in digital forensics, well… an acquaintance really but I bet he could find them in no time,” I told her.
“Oh my, what is this friend’s name?” Vanessa asked.
“Maddox, Maddox Delaney,” I told her without hesitation.
A second later, Vanessa planted a kiss on my lips and wrapped her legs around my body.
“Thanks sugar. You’re the best,” she muttered. Suddenly we were making out again. I was drunk with power and lust and didn’t understand why. Then out of nowhere, she grabbed at my collar and began to choke me.
“Vanessa….? What are you doing… let go… let go,” I insisted.
But she didn’t listen. She kept choking me, her eyes glowing a bright purple for a short time as she said, “You should never have trifled in matters that didn’t pertain to you… mortal…”
I felt darkness enveloping me. Shadows crossing my mind. Then from behind her, another figure loomed. Suddenly she was hit over the head with a bottle of wine and I found myself staring at the face of William Thatcher.
I gasped for breath as Vanessa fell to the floor unconscious, and Thatcher helped me to my feet.
“What..: the fuck was she doing to you?” Will asked.
“I… I don’t know. But she almost killed me. Thanks,” I told him.
He bit his lip, before snarling, “She’s another goon for Auset; is she? Another person that made my Daisy die?”
“I… I don’t know. Maybe. She seemed to know a lot more about Ralph than I realized,” I admitted.
He shook his head, facing me for a long moment before remarking, “They’ve strung us along for all this time. And for what? Do they really imagine they can stop the inevitable?”
“What are you talking about…” I started to ask. Then William grabbed my hands and his eyes flowed of pure silver.
“Open your eyes Detective. See what they have done,” he told me.
Around us, the room began to change. It seemed as if everything was moving in reverse. I felt a rushing headache hit me as images clouded my mind. Vanessa and Maddox were two of the primary images. Both at Paradise finding files to Ralph’s top secret project and taking them without remorse. Then I saw the doctor himself in the vision, his experiments on people more than just a plan for Armageddon… but a plan to stop it. Suddenly everything that had led me to this point made perfect sense. I knew now these were not ordinary men and women. I was dealing with gods. Monsters using people to do their dark deeds. They were not angels, nor demons; but just soulless creatures puppeteering the Brighter Futures Suicide Hotline in some vain lust for power.
“Be free of your mortal coil, Rejoice in the light and use it to Attack those who have wronGed Us, All of this is at last frEeing your shackLes and now I give you one last gift to do what you are meant to,” I heard William shriek in my ear as the club became filled with people again. A loud sharp ringing burst through my head as he released his grip and I found myself staring at a crowd of people all running for cover.
Across the bar I saw two men getting into a brawl, others ducked and covered as they got more and more physical. It seemed like one man was ready to explode with fury. Before I knew was what happening, that exact thing did occur. The club burst into flames. Large beams of wood collapsed on top of me as I struggled to escape.
I saw Vanessa there too, trying to break free from the inferno. She was calling out to someone to help her. I faded in and out of consciousness, the flames scorching my body and cleansing my soul.
Suddenly, new strength ran through my veins. I pushed up the beam from off of me and stood. The fire didn’t seem so violent as it had moments ago. I looked toward my palms, watching as the flames danced but didn’t scorch my skin. Then I looked toward Vanessa and saw her give out a last dying breath.
The man trying to help her looked up to me and fled in fear. A coward through and through, I thought as I recognized him as one of the two I had interrogated.
I walked over to Vanessa, staring down at her as she begged me for help too.
“Please… Marlin. I know you can now that you have this power,” she told me.
She was right. I could save her. But would that be justice? After all of the sins she too had committed? Instead I raised the heel of my boot up and pressed it against her neck. Pressing down on her windpipe, I gave her the sentence she deserved.
Outside the club, the fire continued to burn. But I didn’t care. I knew at last what my purpose was. I knew what William had done to me to make things right. A drifting discarded newspaper showed me that I was now in my own past, able to know the course of events that was about to play out. Able to see to it that justice would be served. I recognized too, what Ralph truly wanted all along and knew my mission was not to save him.
His sacrifice made me what I am. A servant to a higher power. One that transcends both demon and angel.
And now with this strength I know exactly what I will be doing next.
I contacted a reporter, a close friend and former patient of Doctor Emerall’s. We met near to the same place where Ralph’s clinic once stood.
“Detective Malevich?” Angie Rice asked me as she pulled back her hoodie and I saw the scars of the human experimentation Ralph had done on her.
“Angelia, you came,” I said with a smile.
“You have a lot of questions I’m sure, but I can answer all of them,” she offered me.
“Actually I only have one,” I admitted.
“And what would that be?” she wondered.
“Are there others like us?” I asked.
“Not yet,” she admitted, “But I think… give it time… and we will become as numerous as the sands on the shore.” I smiled taking the file she had retrieved marked NPHLM and said, “I look forward to that day, Angelia.”
“And what will you be doing until then, Detective?” she asked.
I thought about my inevitable meeting with Logan and Caden again, how I had made them turn on another in a physical sense before. How now with my new strength I could do so much more.
“Dispensing justice… to whoever and whatever deserve such,” I promised her.
It’s a promise that I now have every intention of keeping.
So yes, Brighter Futures is perhaps the most dangerous place to work in the entire world.
But I think I just found a way to become something far more dangerous. Not an angel or a demon. But something in between.
A child of fury. An angel of justice. A demon of fire.
A Nephilim.