Peab ütlema, et Oliveri esinemine oli muljetavaldav isegi mulle, kes ma muidu temaga päevast päeva kokku puutun kontoris, :)
Kui Fit 1 teises foorumis soovis kuulda mõnd meeldejäävat mõtet või pärli, siis peaks hästi sobima alljärgnev:
Kui Te ei ole nõus astuma ringi Mike Tysoni vastu, siis miks siirdute Te kauplejana turule?
P.S. Räägiks siin foorumis siis kauplemisest üldiselt, mitte konkreetsetest ideedest (sobivad küll näidetena) - kogemused, kasutatavad infokanalid, reeglid, mudelid ja strateegiad jne.
Vahe on siiski selles, et poskimat on nullsumma mäng- üks peab võitma ning teine peab kaotama, muud varianti ei ole. Aktsiaturg ei ole nullsumma mäng. Ja ma ei pea silmas ainult seda, et kõik võivad võita.
80% inimestest arvab, et on teistest paremad, kui lähtuda katoliiklikust ja edasipüüdmatust suhtumisest, siis võib ju kogu elu elada teadmisega, et oled teistest halvem ja ei ole mõtet edasi paremuse poole püüda ja Selveris kärusid edasi lükata.
Choose no life. Choose no career. Choose no family. Choose a fucking big computer, choose more screens you can possibly look at. Choose no sleep, high caffeine and mental insurance. Choose reading moronic fixed income analyst notes. Choose talking to idiot equity analysts. Choose no friends. Choose dirty talkin', porn watchin pre-teens you call your trading team in stead. Choose fucking expensive black armani jeans and sweaty shoes. Choose fucking expensive chairs for your office that still feel like shit after sitting for 16 straight hrs. Choose Level 2 trading systems and wondering why the fuck are you trying to cancel the order that just got filled. Choose sitting in that swivel chair looking at mind-numbing, spirit-crushing losses, stuffing fucking junk food into your mouth. Choose rotting away at the end of it all, trying to dump a 50,000 block of that shit stock on a Friday night, nothing more than an embarrassment to the big Wall Street dreams you used to tease yourself with. Choose your future. Choose trading.
Choose life. Choose a job. Choose a career. Choose a family. Choose a fucking big television. Choose washing machines, cars, compact disc players and electrical tin openers... choose DIY and wondering who the fuck you are on a Sunday morning. Choose sitting on that couch watching mind-numbing, spirit-crushing game shows, stuffing junk food into your mouth. Choose rotting away at the end of it all, pishing your last in a miserable home, nothing more than an embarrassment to the selfish, fucked-up brats you spawned to replace yourself. Choose your future. Choose life... But why would I want to do a thing like that?