RE: Rampers be Frothing5 Aug 2025 20:35
O hark! What wretched soul now stirs the board,
With fingers stained in sceptic's dark accord?
'Tis Bobby Socks, whose scent doth choke the air,
His feet offend as much as his despair.
He struts upon the stage with grave lament:
“CapAI's rise be false! 'Tis but ferment!
A folly steeped in greed and idle dreams,
Soon shall it burst, like soiled socks at seams!”
Yet the stock, not socks, did rise with prideful gait,
As bulls did feast and bears did ruminate.
“Sixty percent!” the masses cried in glee,
While Bobby’s socks did rot from toe to knee.
Yet still he posts, with stubborn, stinking pride,
As if foul foot could turn the market's tide.
But CapAI — aye, it roars with mirthful cheer,
Whilst Bobby’s socks do curdle air and ear.
Let not thy thoughts, like socks, grow rank with fear —
For some stocks rise, though stinkers linger near.
🦄🦄🦄