Build your opponent a golden bridge to retreat across.
Sun Tzu, Art of War
Everything was for tomorrow, but tomorrow never came. The present was only a bridge and on this bridge they are still groaning, as the world groans, and not one idiot ever thinks of blowing up the bridge.
Henry Miller, Tropic of Capricorn
I was wrong! Blow the bridge! Blow the fucking bridge!
Tugg Speedman, Tropic Thunder
Hello again GME Gang! It’s been a while since I last ranted at you, but I know we’ve been in some very good hands here at WSB with all the great DD folks have posted over the past few weeks. So no need for CPT Hubbard to go for 11 again on the Thumbscroll Dial (until today, that is). I’ve enjoyed a lot of these posts very much, so thank you on behalf of myself and the attention-deficient Rocket Children for continuing to deliver that 100% Chaff-Free GME-grade Wheat at such a feverish clip.
Now, I am going to get to Hong Kong’s Lamest Outlaw and his disconcertingly vacant eyes here shortly. But first I want to take you on a journey back to Christmas Eve, in the year of our lord 2020—a heady time in all our lives. We were all so young and innocent then, weren’t we? Fresh off the run up to 22. Blissfully oblivious that we were living in the last moments where the question What is The War of 1812? was the only acceptable Jeopardy question for the answer: The Last Time the Goddamn U.S. Capitol Was Stormed. This was also before we all became irresponsibly overleveraged in Cathie Wood’s Ornamental Gourds ETF. It was a wondrous, confusing time.
But before we get too off topic, let’s all hop in my 1985 DeLorean (purchased with proceeds from my Jan 15 calls – thanks RC!), fire up the ol’ Flux Capacitor, and get that shit to 88 because something happened that evening that is Worth Pondering—particularly in light of recent events. And just as a friendly reminder: even though you’re going back in time in a DeLorean, no one here has to deviate funds away from GME shares to Save the Clock Tower and you are under no obligation to fulfill a scenario where you wind up making out with your Mom (unless your Mom is Cathie Wood like mine—in which case maybe just some quick over-the-clothes stuff).
On the Subject of How It Once ‘Twas The Night Before Christmas
So what in the holy fuck happened on the night before Christmas, Captain? Well, while all you Gentiles were sleeping soundly after lying to your children about benign home intruders and before gorging yourself on the teat of late-stage capitalism, me and the rest of the Chosen People were up late eating Chinese food and thinking about tendies (self-hating Jew Joke! Ba-zing!). But then: when out on the electric twitter machine there arose such a clatter, I sprang to my phone to see what was the matter. And what to my wondering eyes did appear, a mysterious tweet from a Rich-Ass Viking who had a lot of fucking interesting things to say about this whole GME situation that’s what.
This tweet, buried as a reply to a tweet sent by Mr. Rod Alzmann (@RodAlzmann or u/Uberkikz11), simply said: “Merry Christmas. Shhh.” But it included this screen shot:
[**Image Deleted Due to the Mods - check the link below where someone transcribed it - I'll try to add later**]
Now, this tweet to Rod, sent late at night and likely after a strong Mead or three, was very promptly deleted. But your intrepid cub reporter saw this here tweet that night with his own two eyes—seeing as I am a degenerate GME addict and devoted follower of Mr. Rod Alzmann (Hi Rod!). And I took screenshots, of course, like any responsible records custodian might. And so did the dude who wrote a somewhat-overlooked WSB post on this, which included the most pertinent text of the message if you are having trouble reading it here:
https://www.reddit.com/wallstreetbets/comments/kk0omp/christmas_miracle_gamergate_2020_gme_shorts/
Now, what are we to make of this? At the time, I thought it was very interesting. But I did not give it too much attention seeing as how the internet is overcrowded with anonymous weirdos claiming to know more than they do about all sorts of subjects (and now I feel your judging eyes…). Also, there was some very good commentary in that WSB post from some sharp folks about the screenshot author’s questionable use of the shorthand PE/IB—given that private equity and investment banks wouldn’t apparently be involved in a behind-the-scenes transaction with the short funds like what was being discussed there (don’t ask me, I just string together silly words here). But maybe you poke around his Twitter a bit and see for yourself.
Still, plausibility assessments based on preferred nomenclature aside, it seemed to me that some version of that conversation had to be taking place behind the scenes in a situation like this—given the batshit insane short interest, the funds supposedly involved, and the rapid rise in SP coinciding with RC’s share accumulation, December 21st amended 13D filing, and new status as a GME Insider and Board member (just love saying all that in a row, don’t you?).
So the Viking’s screenshot tweet, and the very likely possibility that shorts are in so deep that they’re attempting to negotiate peace with large shareholders behind the scenes, stuck in my tiny little baby brain as a pretty plausible set of scenarios. And from the look of it, it seems like some funds were at least willing to discuss offering these shorts a Golden Bridge away from Certain Fucking Destruction on the open market. And if the words on the screenshot are at all aligned with reality, these short funds have no good options.
Yet it seems like they are still playing hardball to negotiate the carat on this generous bridge offer they’re getting. Why? Maybe they’ve been getting high on their own supply for so long and they don’t know how to see this situation for what it is. Who knows? Maybe there is no Ryan Cohen and we’re all living in a simulation. But if the recent low-rent anti-GME articles and market manipulation efforts we’re seeing are any indication, these overleveraged short fuckers seem to think they’re going to be able to spin out of this hold and drive the SP back down to even smaller peanuts than it’s at now by sheer force of will (and some deployment of well-honed tricks of the trade amirite?) to emerge unscathed. Or even victorious? I dunno—it’s their delusional fantasy sequence.
But do you know what this scenario reminds me of? And this is just coming to me so please bear with me as I’m not showing this to my editor before we print (I haven’t seen this movie in ages – don’t know what made me think of this!). Fuck it, I’m just gonna start riffing here. The shorts trying to thread this needle, against all odds and logic and common sense, reminds me of that hilarious scene in Dumb and Dumber where haplessly delusional Jim Carrey thinks he has a chance with Mary Samsonite Swanson. But the scene is funny because he really doesn’t. Have any chance. At all.
Now, I know this is a 1990s movie originally released on VHS that we haven’t seen it or even seen it referenced in ages. But now that you’re thinking of it again after all this time, doesn’t it remind you of this too? I know, I get it: You’d have to have fucking peanuts for brains for it not to.
(https://twitter.com/ryancohen/status/1350877969816956934?s=20)
On the Subject of the Continued Internet Bumbling of Mr. Justin Dopierala
Now that screenshot came to mind this past week when something kind of weird happened while we were all enjoying our quick rocket ship ride. And yes, we are briefly going to talk again about Seeking Alpha’s second finest pro-GME author (always been more of a Dmitriy man myself) and recurring CPT Hubbard character, Justin Dopierala (and no, Angela, I do not want to have like 10,000 of his babies).
Last Thursday, after we were all virtually high-fiving one another and counting our future Lambos, Mr. Justin Dopierala, head of Domo Capital and longstanding uber-bull GME shareholder and author at Seeking Alpha (last seen arguing pithily with our own Rod Alzmann about the conservative nature of Rod’s holiday earnings projections. Hi again Rod!), made it known that he sold all of Domo Capital’s 500,000 shares for around $42.50—at the very top of the run up last Thursday morning.
Now, Domo Capital’s business decisions are none of my goddamn business. And there are plenty of market opportunities right now. Shit, I hear there is even a new Cathie Wood Gourd ETF coming online soon that people are really excited about and that I’m sure Justin’s clients would find intriguing. But Domo’s decision to sell seemed curious given a few things: (1) on Wednesday, when the rocket is mid-flight, he got a twitter follow from Gabe Plotkin, head of Melvin Capital, which he promptly tweeted about with a “get a load of this fuckin’ guy” vibe (oh the sweet, intoxicating arrogance of tendie victory, I too love it so); (2) he had also tweeted that day comparing GME’s rise to Apron’s short squeeze that lasted 4 days—where he also stressed to his followers that Apron had a much lower SI than GME; and (3) he then promptly deleted all of these tweets and almost everything else GME-related on Thursday after apparently introducing 500,000 shares of liquidity into the height of a stressed market up and through the Thursday reversal and down into his own personal tendie town.
Now, after seeing all this, I mouthed off a bit to Justin on the electric twitter machine because that’s kind of my thing. And if you are familiar with my prior ramblings, you know that he and I go way back. In response, Justin talked a bit of shit about your intrepid cub reporter here in a comment on Dimitry Kozin’s October 21, 2020 article about a possible sony revenue share deal or something, the comment section of which has become the preferred SA water cooler over there. (And I can’t link that because Thems The Rulez). And Justin hurt my little feelings a bit with his very sharp denial. And by all means have at it over there to check out his comment about why he sold if you give a shit. That is if Justin hasn’t deleted it yet. Free country and all.
But to summarize, on the subject of treacherous coordination with Melvin Capital, Justin said he would not could not in a boat and he would not could not with a goat. And I for one believe him. And do you know why? Because even though Justin seems like a very smart guy in some ways, he’s also a well-known internet bumbler who blurts out things to his internet friends that a person with better self-control would keep to themselves. And so I do not think he is capable of pulling that off or keeping a secret like that. Also: he said he didn’t so I am more than willing to give someone the benefit of any doubt in that area and you should too. I think we keep Hanlon’s razor firmly in mind here about never attributing to malice that which is explained by stupidity. That is unless, of course, you’re Andrew Left and you’re actually trying to convince people that you didn’t realize there was a US presidential inauguration planned for the same time you announced your Super Important TeeVee Yammerfest ‘21 about GME not being a good candidate for an imminent short squeeze no way no how not if my name isn’t Andrew Left short seller expert extraordinaire and Hong Kong’s Most Misunderstood Ethically-Minded Businessman. You can ascribe the fuck out of malice to that one.
No, even though I really have no idea, I think the most likely thing that happened there was that Gabe Plotkin, Master of the Universe, Head of Melvin Capital, and Acolyte of Perennial Most Ethical Business Man MVP candidate, Steven Cohen—got into Justin’s head when Plotkin followed him on twitter during the 57% (at one point 94%) day last Wednesday and then Justin got a bit chippy about it.
And this is the real reason I’m bringing this up.
Because I honestly care very little about the Nervous Investing Habits of the Wisconsin hedge fund voted most likely to prompt a Mr. Roboto reference. No: I think that Gabe Plotkin sent a message with that follow. Without even ever having to say it directly. And I think that after GME’s huge run and getting a little overexcited while working the twitter machine, Justin maybe had a chance to relax with a warm glass of milk that night and reflect on that message. Which I believe was: I’m watching you, motherfucker. And the only reason I’m paying any attention to some shitstain Wisconsin pseudo-fund on a day like today when I am getting my ass fucking torched is because I want you to know that if this GME shit blows up on me, I’m going to fuck your ass up. I will remember the name Domo Capital forevermore. And when you least expect me, I’ll be there. Now: your move, motherfucker.
And once I realized what might have happened there, that made me feel kinda bad for Justin if he felt that way. Definitely a puss move because fuck you Plotkin I drink your fucking milkshake, right? But bad because that’s a mean message for a business colleague to send, Gabriel. Shame on you if that's how you roll like a big New York bully and scaring our poor Justin like that. And if you just wanted to follow him to shoot the shit or swap listicles and Star Wars Prequel memes with a respected contemporary—even in the very midst of getting fucking annihilated while short GME—well Justin has a totally different account for that and he’s not allowed to access it during work hours.
On The Likelihood That The Most Heavily Shorted Stock in History Is Not Being Subject to Continued Market Manipulation When A Steve Cohen Acolyte Is Losing His Fucking Shirt
Have you heard about Steve Fucking Cohen? The guy who looks like he’s tip top of the list of the premier Hollywood casting agency’s rolodex for Saddest Dipshit Still At the Strip Club After Everyone Else Has Already Gone Home? I’m sorry, that’s mean and my mother told me to always be kind to the truly hideous looking because they’re probably still beautiful on the inside (spoiler alert: he’s not!).
Get a load of this guy:
https://www.bloomberg.com/news/articles/2014-01-02/why-sac-capitals-steven-cohen-isnt-in-jail
https://www.latimes.com/entertainment-arts/business/story/2020-09-02/controversial-hedge-fund-billionaire-steven-cohen-takes-on-hollywood
https://www.marketwatch.com/story/steven-a-cohen-among-the-million-dollar-donors-to-trump-inauguration-2017-04-19
https://www.vanityfair.com/news/2016/11/steve-cohen-trump
https://nypost.com/2015/06/17/billionaire-steve-cohen-bros-out-with-guy-fieri/
Are you back? I’ve missed you. That was scary, wasn’t it? But allow me to TL/DR all that for you who decided to avoid all that unpleasantness: the dude just has all this bad luck and keeps finding himself into these really awkward situations where someone could potentially question his commitment to ethical business and life practices as well as adherence to the laws of the United States and it’s just not fair and nothing’s fair and Nice Guy Steve Cohen Is The Victim Here So Just Stop Right There Mister I See What You’re Doing. He's also bros with Guy Fieri. Cool.
But why am I talking about a guy who would so clearly pass Billy Madison’s Final Question about Business Ethics without even breaking a sweat?
Because Steve Cohen once had a young Ace Protegee that he loved very much. With the name of an Archangel, so tender and pure. And one day this young man decided he wanted to Prove Himself and Leave Steve’s Nest. And thus was born Melvin Capital, seeded financially by Steve Cohen but named after famed Crooner Melvin H. Tormé, which Gabe’s esteemed mentor Steve would play in his office, over and over, all those years ago.
Now let’s fast forward a bit because I’m boring myself with all that fucking Cohen reading (the bad Cohen—don’t you dare get anyone confused here). As I was saying: Gabe Plotkin, head of Melvin Capital, has by all accounts gotten himself into a bit of a pickle here being so deeply short GME. Lots of people have analyzed and overanalyzed it, and I’m not going to do it again here; that dead horse is well and truly beaten. But to bottom line it: we’re all just staring down what is essentially an unprecedented math problem that will, at some point, resolve itself. And if it revolves itself in favor of the Good Guys, then the Bad Guys will lose a Fuck-ton of Money. That’s your money block quote, WSJ, so fuck off and stop calling me.
Now: picture yourself as a Steve Cohen acolyte that just bought a $44M Miami Compound and who cannot stop talking about how co-owning the Charlotte Hornets is worth it just for the courtsides alone bro once basketball is a thing again and so what if Michael Jordan keeps calling him Gary it’s close enough. Are you feeling the most financially secure that you have ever felt in your young rich life right about now? Or might you be a wee bit worried that you’ve pursued an investment thesis so reckless, so irrationally and intentionally destructive of equity, that even Melvin H. Tormé himself must be rolling in his fucking grave that you would ever dare put at risk your ability to continue being Michael Jordan’s Gary?
And so here is when I again link my good buddy Jim Cramer’s Great Unveiling of the Tactics Deployed by Short Sellers hoping to change the narrative and construct a “new truth” to suppress the SP in the face of, oh, let’s just say: a very promising turnaround story in a high-growth industry by an e-Commerce Canadian Genius who does not fuck around and who knows what he’s fucking doing and aims to sell more and better video games experiences to crackhead video gamers and there’s a million things he wants to do but just you wait, just you wait.
Is this plot that hard to follow?
And I’ll also say this: I know fuck-all about monitoring order flows or how funds continue to create synthetic shares to short shit into oblivion. But I’m just stepping back and thinking of the broader narrative and tactics on this. Spit-balling here again—bear with me. Now, if you were massively short a security while paying out your ass in borrowing fees for the privilege of entering the most crowded short trade in the market and you’re now opposite a massive business turnaround story, Ryan Cohen, numerous institutions, funds, retail whales, Norwegian HNW Freemason Consortiums, and the energy behind the Finest Rocket Children Ever to Grace Planet Fucking Earth—and you’re taking it in the ass week after week here—Do you then play this straight? Do you set aside all of these illegal and deceptive short tactics Jim Cramer candidly outlines in that video even though they’re impossible to enforce and are in fact not enforced? That Jim basically says you’d be professionally negligent if you were short and didn’t do this shit because fuck it whosgonnastopyou? And now you fucked up and that steamroller is barreling down upon you and there are all these things you could theoretically do try to get yourself out of this jam if you were That Kind of Person? Do you set this all aside and, at least in Jim’s view, tie one hand behind your precious ethical back? On the most heavily shorted stock off all time where you are bleeding Real Life Big-Boy Money? Just buying and selling you know, just a job, honest living, nothing much to it, sometimes you win, sometimes you lose, can't get too carried away with it.
Or is it something a little bit fucking different than that?
I don’t know. I’m not in the industry myself. And I would never accuse anyone of doing anything so clearly contrary to the values upon which their professional career as Master of the Universe was built. So Gabe: chill. Don’t follow me or something on twitter man, since for all I know that’s Plotkinese for I Hope You Don’t Mind Sleeping With This Severed Horse Head in Your Bed Motherfucker. It’s just money, dude. You seem pretty well taken care of. But man would I be sweating if I were short right now staring down the barrel of your new neighbor Ryan Cohen’s whims and patience and polite Canadian manners and ambiguous emojis that we all lose our shit for. I mean, fuck man: are you ok? Don’t forget to exercise and eat well during all this. Maybe switch to green tea or something. And remember: you’ll always—always—be Michael Jordan’s Gary.
But here is where we return to our good friend Andrew Left from Citron Research.
Do you remember the excitement you felt this past weekend? I’ve never seen WSB so jacked. People were coming out hot on Tuesday—an uptick day! The new phone book’s here! The new phone book's here! What luck to be free of Gary’s tomfoolery for one fine day. And then GME spiked right away—reaching a high of over $45 that morning.
But then something happened. We all know what it was. But here is where any SEC lookie-loos need to close those Pornhub links and pay closer attention. Because in the moments before the Citron tweet that morning about Andy’s upcoming BuzzFeed Listicle call on Why GME is Scary Investment GRRRR, total short shares available dropped from 1.2M to 0. And a $300K put bet was placed on a weekly with a strike price well over 10% out of the money at the very moment that GME’s price was accelerating rapidly. (H/t u/FatAspirations). That’s some WSB-level shit right there.
And yet they pull it off! GME immediately shoots down nearly 30% intraday, and eventually climbing abck up above 10%, making us all feel a little weird and like ungrateful millennial brats for feeling so shitty about a 10% day. But we all know what fucking happened, now don’t we?
So what can we say about ol’ Andy? Now, many of you know Andy as the dumbshit who shorted TSLA until he was ground into little bits of dumb dumb dust and made to look ever so foolish over and over again until he finally cried drunk uncle and flipped to being long TSLA and now he’s cool to you or whatever. Or you might know him as the guy who puts out really shoddy research that often, by pure happenstance, drives a new narrative to control the orderflow and SP on a WSB-beloved security like PLTR? You know the guy I’m talking about. Once in hot pursuit by Hong Kong fuzz, an International Man of Obviousness with a face that says: why yes, I will have another vodka tonic thankyouverymuch. That’s him.
Well, just like future call-back candidate for the role of Frightened Inmate #2, Mr. Steve Cohen, Andy is also but a Caveman—frightened and confused by your modern concepts of “ethics” and “rules.” No! No!—He’s a straight shooter! Devoted to rooting out obvious frauds, like Lukin Coffee and TSLA (Do not fuck with Elon or my Hot Mom’s ETF, Andy). And like the aspirations of Antoine Bugle Boy when he entered the blue jeans market, Andy saw an overcrowded short trade here based on an overly simplistic and obsolete short thesis about GME and said: “Me Too!” And as this thing is ripping to the stratosphere, Andy starts ringing his dumb dumb twitter bell and saying hear ye, hear ye—Inauguration Day and time it shall be for all my Big Brain thoughts about GME!
Nothing weird about that. No sir.
So Andy Citron or whatever the fuck his name is will be putting out some dumbshit video or something today in what seems to be a pretty clear attempt to scare my poor Rocket Children and get those pesky computers to high frequency this shit to drive the SP down to more acceptable loss levels (cause let’s be honest: they’re still taking a fucking bath here) for Mel Tormé’s namesake hedgefund and all the other cretins that are dug into short position here. And they’re gonna try to scare ya’ with the color red! And they know that no one here likes the color red.
But do see what’s going on here and who we’re dealing with. This really ain’t rocket science, Rocket Children. The dude actually tried to claim he forgot about the Inauguration. In 2021. He has not been in a coma, to the best of my knowledge. But you do look a little bleary eyed, Andy. Must have been all that staying up super late working on those last few bullet points to fill out the powerpoint on that GME listicle of yours, eh sport?
Conclusion: On the Subject of Patience and The Arc of The Universe Bending Toward Ryan Fucking Cohen
In my youth there was a period of time where I went out on boats that would drop crates into the waters of the Arctic. Bundled inside them were raw pieces of meat. In the coming days the boats would head back out to the frigid seas, hook the floats bobbing upon the waters, and pull the crates up. Packed inside would be many crabs. They were so delicious & made a good price at market. The difference between the crate that was empty and the create full of bounty was a mystery even the great physicist Erwin Schrödinger pondered at much length.
But the hearty fishermen of my youth already knew the answer long ago. Why did the trap fill up? Time. In time, all traps fill. In time, all things pondered shall be revealed.
--The Fucking Viking, That’s Who
Now look, you all know I have a soft spot for Ryan Cohen. Hell, we all do. He’s a good dude. And the man has played this flawlessly so far. He really has. The fact that we are all sitting here with Ryan Cohen having successfully negotiated three seats on the Board—a bloodless coup as my man Rod Alzmann says—here in January? It’s amazing. His vision for GME is dialed-the-fuck in and extremely exciting. This misunderstood business is on the threshold of an exciting turnaround with Ryan Cohen at the helm. And though I was very much looking forward to the potential repercussions of a vote being called at the annual meeting and what that might mean for the short-term share price, this result is infinitely better. Whatever their motivations, that Board and George Sherman saw the writing on the wall here and accepted the Golden Bridge that Ryan offered them. And Ryan Cohen has done everything he’s set out to do here. And he’s clearly been having fun while doing it. Read up on the guy at some point if you haven’t–there’s lots of good DD out there on him, obviously. And while you’re reading and thinking about Ryan Cohen, think also about guys like Steve Cohen (no fucking relation) and Gabe Plotkin and Andy Left and how lucky we are that we get to roll with RC against that motley crew of fuckwads.
And do you know what? I’m guessing that RC, and maybe even the funds being discussed in that screenshot, have been very patient with Mr. Plotkin et al in recent weeks. You don’t go around bankrupting hedge funds willy nilly, you know--bad form and all that old chap. People tend to remember that. And guys like Steve Cohen and Gabe Plotkin seem like they play for keeps. So now you try to build them a Golden Bridge to cross—maybe not their preferred route of travel, but could be worse and all that, right guys? But for whatever reason it seems like the natural instinct here on the short side is fight over flight. And these short FUD tactics are getting increasingly ridiculous to help slow down the inevitable march toward the detonator right next to that bridge. So relax everyone! And let’s not fool ourselves: All those Masters of the Universes are well aware of the math problem they’re all facing here and they must have a vague grasp of the odds that this goes off in one direction over the other. And what that could mean for the size of their money pits and how many sports teams they can buy this year. Shit, I assume Steve Cohen is counseling his young acolyte about how many sads he himself felt deep down in his man heart on that fateful day in 2008 when he lost $250M on a short when Volkswagon squeezed to infinity—a sadness that he will continue to draw on when his agent finally finds him a role that calls for it.
But my point is: the longs here can afford to be patient and let this play out. When this thing moves, the Viking’s Schrödinger crabs will only be in one pot. And I’m guessing that pot is the one being held by the guy who is actually in total control here: Ryan Goddamn Cohen.
So enjoy the show today. If you’re anything like me, you’re feeling relaxed after gorging yourself on lucky space peanuts all week.(https://solarsystem.nasa.gov/news/10022/lucky-peanuts/)
And though these silly wabbits with their cumbersome FUD efforts can get a bit tiresome, I’m still very much enjoying this GME show at this point and almost do not want it to end—what with all these Sorkin-esque twists and turns and my Cohen Tweet Decorder Ring getting all this sweet action.
But just remember who Ryan Cohen is, what he cares about, and what, so far, he has told us he intends to do here. And then you might realize, as I have, that Ryan Cohen has had the Gray’s Sports Almanac here all along. This story has already been written. He’s already won. And Melvin Capital’s Schrödinger-ass crabs are dead as fuck. The only question now is: what causes that Golden Bridge to blow? I, for one, am content to wait on RC while counting my good fortune that I can continue to accumulate until whatever happens here happens. So pass the rocket peanuts.
It’s just money after all. Right Gabe?
TL/DR: Psst: a Mysterious Viking once told me about behind-the-scenes Golden Bridge negotiations that are likely taking place that give shorts no chance but the shorts seem to think they’re saying there’s a chance but there really is no chance; Gabe Plotkin, Steve Cohen and Andy Left are misunderstood Straight Shooters who probably answer typical interview questions about their own perceived weaknesses by saying “Sometimes I just care too much about doing the right thing”; and Ryan Cohen is the Goddamn Man so we can all relax and not worry so much about all this dumb short FUD bullshit, ok? OK. 🚀🚀🚀
**If you construe any of the above as investment advice without doing your own DD or at least Googling Ryan Cohen then you are a fucking idiot and may God have mercy on your soul. You too, Andy.

Humans are Weird – Sparks

Original Post: http://www.authorbettyadams.com/bettys-blog/humans-are-weird-sparks
“Human Friend Mercy?” Rotates With Decision asked as she lifted her leading end out of the temporary tank the human in question had provided for her.
“What is it Rotates?” Human Friend Mercy replied without turning her face away from the reflective surface that was mounted on one wall.
“Wouldn’t your meditative devotion be more effective if you had another mirror angled from your … well it isn’t your lagging end exactly. I think you call it your supine surface? Or perhaps a pair, or a trine of mirrors would be more effective. But perhaps humans cannot interoperate an image scattered that far. Rolls a little your binocular vision should help with that…”
Human Friend Mercy’s hands had slowed in their soothing repetitive motions and the light show dimmed allowing the perhifreial sparks to dance more clearly. Her head slowly turned her face towards the Undulate in the tank revealing that she had sacrificed the bilateral symmetry of her face to get a proper visual sounding of the scene. It was, Rotates With Decision had been led to believe, a gesture of lack of understanding and mental effort to understand.
“Say way lil’ gal?” Human Friend Mercy drawled out.
“I will ask again once you have completed what you are doing,” Rotates With Decision said. “Do you mind if I deliberately observe with all of my appendages?
“Watch as much as you want,” the human replied with a graceful, almost Undulate dip of her shoulders.
A shrug, Rotates With Decision believed it was called, one of the more normal movements the massive bipeds produced from their numerous joints. Rotates With Decision gave a hum of gratitude and spread her appendages to observe the brilliant light show. She wondered idly why none of her companions with more human experience had ever mentioned this marvel.
The brush, a mass printed device that resembled the algae agitators she used back home in the growth pools, was gripped firmly in the humans dominant hand while she used her non-dominant hand to direct the fall of the thread thin fibers that grew out of her caudal end. The human had begun the meditative devotion by freeing the thousands of strands from the cloth band that restrained them and now the band clung snugly one of the larger joints on her arm. Then she had started using the teeth of the brush at the lagging end of the fibers to tease out the tangles exactly as one had to loosen the more fibrous algae back home.
The moment the printed material of the brush had touched the fibers a shower of brilliant sparks had erupted from the contact. As Human Friend Mercy had worked the brush up the length of her fibers the showers of sparks had grown in number and density until the flowing mass of fibers was a veritable cascade of dancing light. When all of the tangles were worked out of the fibers the human had worked up a steady rhythm that filled the room with the sparking light.
The beauty, the light, the rhythm, the softly chanted tune that Rotates With Decision couldn’t quite make out, everything about the wondrous scene before her spoke of a religious devotion. Even if Rotates With Decision hadn’t had the chance to see the ancient human religious art on display she would have recognized the holiness of the moment. As it was the tradition of putting a circle representing light around the head of humans in religious devotion suddenly made so much more sense.
Rotates With Decision suddenly realized that that chanting was actually the decamarked counting form the humans used. Human Friend Mercy was counting up by ones and was somewhere in the mid sixties. Rotates With Decision wondered which human prayers had that many beats. She had been somewhat under the impression that nightly prayers were usually shorter. She wondered suddenly if it had been rude to interrupt the prayer. Humans were oddly solitary creatures sometimes. True, Human Friend Mercy hadn’t appeared to be offended, but the human was probably too agreeable to express such a thing even if it was inconvenient to her.
The pace of the prayer was picking up in anticipation of the end count and Human Friend Mercy was briskly dragging the brush through the full length of the strands, catching the mass in her non-dominant hand and guiding the mass through the tines of the brush. The resulting light show almost obscured the dancing fibers in its glow. Human Friend Mercy reached a count of one-hundred and finished with a powerful stroke that made the room glow. Rather than bask in the accumulated light she parted the sparkling strands down the center of her caudal end and began quickly braiding the two halves into the side braids she had explained were the most comfortable for sleep. Showers of sparks fell from her fingers and lit on her shoulders before extinguishing in the ambient vapor. The human finished the task and dropped the brush on the shelf before giving a little hop and landing on her bunk.
“What was that question you asked Rotates?” Human Friend Mercy asked as she shifted in the usual human search for a comfortable position.
“Primarily I wanted to know why you have not arranged for a view of your, dorsal I believe, surface during the prayer time,” Rotates With Decision said.
Human Friend Mercy stopped shifting with her pillow clutched in her hands and stared at Rotates With Decision with the fluctuating gaze that indicated deep thought.
“What prayer now?” Human Friend Mercy asked with confusion clear in her tones.
“The counting prayer you just preformed at the mirror,” Rotates With Decision said, gesturing towards the reflective surface.
“That wasn’t a religious thing,” Human Friend Mercy said slowly. “It was a hygiene thing. It distributes the oils properly though my hair so the oils produced at the base of the strands can reach all the way to the tips. It also prevents insects from nesting in the braids and dislodges any dirt. I count to make sure I give sufficient time to the task.”
Rotates With Decision positively wriggled in surprise.
“Such astounding beauty produced from a merely hygienic process!” she exclaimed. “How delightful, but surely even so you would want to view the full effect of the light flow?”
“The what now?” Human Friend Mercy said, but was interrupted by a yawn.
“I can ask you about it in the morning,” Rotates With Decision said as she slipped back into the tank.
“Good idea,” Human Friend Mercy said and she shifted position to begin sleep.
However after a moment her arm lifted from her side and dropped across her caudal end in a pose that usually indicated thoughtfulness rather than restfulness.
“Yo’ Rotates,” Human Friend Mercy called out with another yawn. “Think I got it. My and my sister would sometimes brush our hair in the dark to see the sparks it made. I bet you can see ‘em even without it being pitch black.”
The human voice had wandered off into sleep and her arm dropped to her side so Rotates With Decision did not bother perusing the matter. There was always tomorrow. She stared at the lingering glow in the braids that fell over the human’s shoulders in fascination. Was it possible a species could produce such beauty without realizing it?

THE SECOND EDITION OF THE PAPERBACK AND THE KINDLE VERSION ARE NOW UP ON AMAZON!

QUICK NOTE: RE: everyone who asked. The book is avaliable in Amazon regions US-UK-DE-FR-ES-IT-NL-JP-BR-CA-MX-AU-IN. HOWEVER The above link only takes you to the US Amazon site. The one indicated by the .com ending. If it says "not avaliable in your country" that just means that you need to click over to your Amazon region.
Of course if you want a signed first edition you can email me at the email on my website and I can ship you a signed Author copy of the first edition for the same price as the crowdfunding campaign $35 domestic and $50 overseas. I'll do that until I run out of extra books.

Hi all,
I thought I would share my profits for Matched Betting Extra Place Horse Racing for Jan 21. January 2021 has turned into my best month of Matched Betting since I started way back in Summer 2018. This months profits are roughly £4,707. A life changing figure for many and a great figure seeing this is achievable on top of a full time job. Matched Betting is the only decent side hustle I have actually found, compared to doing hundreds of boring online surveys...yuck! (Unless you are a good business person / have 5 lodgers / lots of family money etc.) To see some of my other Matched Betting profits you visit my site: https://cashontheside.co.uk/
I will be investing some of my profits this month in ETF/Shares and putting into house improvements like a new drive way. In addition with Cheltenham horse festival coming up in March, I will be increasing my bank to cover liabilities.
The bulk of my profits came from Extra Place racing, large underlayed winners and BOG (best offer garuntee). Variance was certainly on my side this month and I must have had at least 10 large winners which won upwards of £1600 pounds per bet. As I underlay my bets I made more profit than If I had fully layed of the bets. About 5% of these profits came from low risk casino. After you have completed all welcome offers...in Matched Betting. Ep's become a gold mine...and I truly recommend them to anyone.
Some more of my bets this month illustrating underlayed bets and ep:
https://cashonthesidecouk.files.wordpress.com/2021/02/winnings4.jpg
https://cashonthesidecouk.files.wordpress.com/2021/02/winnings.jpg
https://cashonthesidecouk.files.wordpress.com/2021/02/another-winner.jpg
​
Images of one of my bets illustrative of Best offer guarantee: https://cashonthesidecouk.files.wordpress.com/2021/01/136707133_10159536662702922_8507610622687908137_o-1.jpg?w=544
For those who are starting out on their Match Betting journey in 2021 these sort of figures are achievable to you once you have experience….unfortunately this will not come overnight! I do put a lot of time into it..between 2-5 hours a day, 7 days a week sometimes. For the average person you could earn at least £500 a month.
To learn more about Match Betting please visit my article Boost Your Income with Matched Betting. Alternatively you can start an Odds Monkey free trial where they will teach you step by step and give you the calculators you need: odds monkey trial https://www.oddsmonkey.com/affiliates/affiliate.php?id=64754(affiliate) or www.oddsmonkey.com. (non affiliate)
To those with a little more experience who want to learn about Matched Betting Extra Places you can visit my guide here Extra Place Match Betting tips here or I have copied and pasted it all below.
For those with Matched Betting Experience - my guide and tips to Extra Places:
What is Extra Place Matched Betting?
Extra Places can be a very lucrative technique to learn. Extra Places are available for us to do pretty much every day, increasing the appeal. Extra Place Offers are available to all customers. This means that even if you get gubbed with a bookmaker, in most cases, you can still make money with them by Matched Betting on their Extra Place Offers.
Extra Places are considered an advanced reload offer, as they not risk-free. However once you have gained some experience on more basic horse racing offers, you can start to take advantage of the lucrative profits available. It may sound complicated but as soon as it ‘clicks’, it becomes simple. Essentially we are taking advantage of the bookies and exchanges paying out if the horse you have backed comes a certain ‘place’ in a race e.g. 4th.
Extra Places combined with additional offers such as BOG (Best Offer Guarantee) can mean additional profits. For example, you back a horse at odds of 15 and then the starting odds move up to 23. If that horse wins you win an extra x8 on your bet. You can see some real life scenarios I found of Extra Place combined with BOG below. Depending on the size of the underlay, profits below would range up to £3,000+

What is a ‘place’ in horse racing?

Quite simply a ‘place’ is the position the horse finishes a race in. For example if a horse wins a race it comes 1st, if a horse comes 2nd its 2nd. In some races with a large number of horses some bookies will pay out if a horse finishes the race in 1st, 2nd, 3rd, 4th, 5th and 6th position. Horse Racing festivals such as Cheltenham or Ascot are particularly well known for this.

What is an ‘Extra Place’ in horse racing?

Now we’ve understood what a place is in horse racing you may have probably already guessed what an ‘extra place’ is going to be! An ‘extra place’ is where the bookies add one (or more) additional places to their standard place classification on a particular race. For example they may offer to ‘pay 7 places on a race’ instead of the standard 3 places. The ‘extra place’ in this instance cover 4th, 5th, 6th and 7th.
What are my Extra Place top tips?

1. Some of my biggest profits have come from big underlayed winners and BOG. I typically underlay most of my bets by about 20% sometimes more. If you are starting out I would underlay on the place only by about 10% to play it safe until you learn more.
2. Don’t bet on more places than a bookmaker is offering. E.g. If the bookmaker is offering 4 places don’t bet on more than that.
3. Whilst your learning, take horses on implied odds of at least 12 or more on a match of 80%+.
4. Look to keep qualifying losses down. E.g. for £100 profit, £5 ql.
5. Please note, the best odds are typically found between 10 minutes up and to race time. You have to be quick on your ‘toes’…learn to walk before you run etc. Start out on easy horse racing officers before doing extra places.
6. You will need a bank of at least £1000+ for your exchanges, ideally more. The more you have the more of the field you can cover. You can do EP with several hundred in your exchange but you won’t be able to make bigger profits.
7. Be consistent, don’t take risks, don’t chase your losses and learn from matched betting extra place forums.
8. Keep the Odds Monkey up throughout the day...and check for good matches.
9. Use Bookies Boosts to increase your odds and matches.
10. Do not give in to your fear of missing out on offers…Tomorrow is another day.
11. Have at least a dual monitoscreen setup. It is important to be able to see exchange, books and calcs.

How do I find Extra Places offers?
I use the the Odds Monkey Extra Place Matcher to find the best opportunities for profit. The Matcher is explained in the below video.
https://youtu.be/oOKAdiSJidg
I am also a regular visitor of the active Odds Monkey community forums. You can sign up for an Odds Monkey free trial today here today https://www.oddsmonkey.com/affiliates/affiliate.php?id=64754 www.oddsmonkey.com (non affiliate). Odds Monkey provide you with the all guides, calculators etc. I have been a member for over 2.4 years now.
Feel free to get in touch or ask below if any questions.

This is a long one....again. I'm just long winded. Don't like it, there's a TL;DR. :)
(side note, I would read my recess story first if you want to do things chronologically)
TL;DR: School says my boots are within code but they don't like them and I can't wear them. So I stop trying to look nice anymore at all.
Background (you can skip this part if you like a shorter read):
If you read my recess MC story, then you already know I'm not a fan of dress codes for the sake of dress codes. So when I left for boarding school, I was utterly thrilled to go to a school that didn't have any uniform at all!
OK-So it's not really that I have a problem with dress codes. I have a problem with conforming. So if you say socks have to be black or blue, 99.999999% of people will assume that you mean navy blue. I'm the person who would show up with sky blue. Just to silently stand out for a day. Just to give a smirk to the 5 other people who'll think "well, they did just say blue!" Just to highlight to the bureaucrat who wrote the rules that they're not as airtight as they thought they were. In short, I am (as my hubby would say) a brat. It's just fun (to me) to show people that "eitheor" doesn't always have to be your only choices.
We'll just say I was an "adventurous dresser". I liked unusual combinations and had I been encouraged instead of discouraged (and taught how to sew) I very probably would have ended up as a low level fashion designer. Clothes were like paint to me after an entire childhood in the same plaid. I wanted to mix colors and textures and brushes. Boarding school is not really a colorful, choose your own adventure kind of place.
Well, though I was a precocious child, I was never a rule breaker (save for very calculated rule breaking in my previous story). My mother always said "VooDooDaughter's obedient and well behaved. She will bend a rule into a pretzel. But she'll never intentionally break one." She was the kind of parent who had to carefully word rules and restrictions when leaving me to my own devices.... but also be careful not to put ideas into my head, at the same time. Basically if you give me the impression that you believe something is ironclad, I'll pick it apart just because I enjoy the mental exercise of seeing if it really is ironclad. But if you're a jerk, I'm going to find the worst way to show you it's not iron clad.
My mother firmly believed that "Critical Thinking is the key to success in life. If you can assess a problem and find a path to a solution then you don't need to know everything. You just need to know how to find answers." (Mind you, this was about a decade before google and smart phones so I don't blame parents today for different mentalities....but I do still think I would raise my kids this way if I were going to have any.) So I had been raised to believe that the people who get ahead in life are the people who don't just say "Apple" when asked what that red round thing on the desk is. You pick it up. You turn it over. You note the feel and the weight. You mark the smell and the reflections in the wax. And you file that away for later. Never know when someone's going to ask you what the bottom of an apple looks like when there are no apples to look at, right?
Anyhow, when you spend your life mentally picking up every problem, question, and object so you can flip it over, turn it inside out, change the colors, etc. Mundane things like school handbooks actually become a bit fun.
The Story:
I went to a boarding school with two types of dress code. We had "Classroom Dress" which was exactly what it sounds like. We were basically expected to look like young professionals. All the normal rules you would expect. Skirts below the fingertips for girls, shirts and ties for the boys. The handbook was pretty specific, as most are. The alternative was what we could wear in our free time "Town Dress" and it was the standard we were expected to dress to when seen in public off campus or just spending time in the students' lounge. This was more relaxed but still rules to keep the girls from wearing anything too sexy or the boys from looking too ragged in torn/cut off/worn out clothes. That sort of stuff.
I had a pair of knee high suede moccasin boots with fringe at the top, just below the knee. Actually, I had two pairs. One in black. One in brown. They were the most comfortable, warm boots I ever owned (long before the days of uggs). My mother and I fought constantly over these boots and it was a great triumph to me that she'd allowed me to spirit them away to school with me.
Then one day I was approached by a teacher who told me that the teachers had had a discussion and my boots "Weren't in the spirit of Classroom Dress."
"But I've read the dress code. There's nothing in there against them." I protested.
"I know. It's just been decided they don't meet the spirit of the dress code." She elaborated.
"But they're the right color."
"I know"
"They're the right fabric. Suede is allowed."
"I know"
"There's no restriction on boot length. You allow riding boots for the equestrian club!"
"I know...."
"Then WHY?!" I don't really know if I was angry or sad or an even split of both. But I was emotional.
"I wish I had better answers for you." She was a teacher I liked and I knew liked me. I realized it's why they'd sent her. I wasn't the sort to make a scene or cause a fuss...... I was the sort to get even.
"Ok." I said, and walked off. That night, I studied the dress code front to back. I read every sentence forwards and backwards. I said them out loud. I held up every article of clothing mentioned and studied it as if I were an alien who had nothing but the handbook and that piece of clothing to figure out how it was used by humans. It was a pretty strict handbook, I had to give them that. But they had made 2 mistakes.

1. The handbook was oddly UNspecific about which items of clothing were to be worn where.
2. Nowhere did the handbook say we had to make an effort to actually look good. They discussed what articles of clothing needed to be what colors and how far they needed to extend in certain directions (skirts below the finger tips, socks above the ankles, sleeves past the elbows, etc). Shoes had to be reasonable colors like black or brown (like my boots were!) or other earth tones. But it never said they couldn't be elf shoes, for example. Granted, elf shoes wouldn't be "in the spirit of classroom dress". But I digress.

I went to bed furious and with vicious ideas circling in my mind. Debating whether or not I wanted to pull this particular trigger. Eventually I decided I'd wait until morning and if I still felt that way, I would begin phase 1.
The next morning, I woke up still pissed and began a mental list of the worst boys in my grade as I walked to breakfast. When I got there, I found a few of them and pointed out that the handbook specified that ties were to be tied in a single or double windsor knot at all times unless it was a bowtie and then it was to be tied in the traditional manner (don't know what that's called). What it DIDN'T specify is what part of the body it was to be affixed to. Nowhere did it specify that ties had to be tied around the neck. Just how they needed to be tied. I told them they didn't have to believe me. Just read their handbooks that night and do what they will with the information.
The next day, there were ties on wrists, around eyeglasses, foreheads, ankles, knees, thighs, tied then wrapped around hands as if to stop bleeding knuckles.... anywhere you could attach a windsor knot to the human body, there was a boy in my school with a tie there.
I was feeling pretty darn proud of myself. Phase one was a total success. The teachers were annoyed but most found it amusing.... Until we got to math class. There was a kid in class without his tie on. The one who always wore a bowtie. The teacher walked up to his desk and looked down her nose at him. "I understand you boys are having some fun with your ties today. And I think we've been pretty good sports. But if you know the handbook this well, then you know you at least have to be wearing a tie."
He raised his head, smirked, and said "Oh I'm wearing one. You just can't see it." The class erupted. Now maybe he just had it under his pants on his ankle. Or tied around his elbow under his blazer. I'll never know. But he went down as the kid who came to class with his tie around his penis. By the end of the day, I was a legend for finding the loophole and he was a legend for what he had put the loophole around. By morning announcements, the dress code had been updated (we were all handed a printed page so we couldn't claim we didn't know) to include specifications about ties around necks and the fun was over for the boys.
Phase 2 was a little more in depth - read on if you're not already bored. I studied the handbook and I took mental notes.
I had been eyeing the most ridiculous pair of boots I'd ever seen at the mall. They were silver with holographic rainbow interlocking circles on them. They sported a 2 inch platform with a chunky 4 inch heel and laced up just above the ankles. They looked like something Romy and Michelle would have worn in their final Prom scene or Fran Drescher in the Nanny. Ungodly. I knew I couldn't wear them to class but I wanted them for town days soooooooo bad. Like I said, after 9 years in uniform, I was having fun with fashion. I saved for months and "visited" them at the mall every chance I got. I had been slowly talking myself out of such a frivolous pair of boots (they were SO expensive!) but the loss of my favorite classroom boots had reinvigorated my lust for them. And right after my moccasins were revoked, I had managed to save up just enough to afford them. Lucky me!
I practically skipped to the store to get my holographic rainbow platform boots that weekend. They were out of my size! I nearly cried. Until I noticed right next to them was the black patent leather version. Until now, they had seemed so tame by comparison. But the dress code had a special section about patent leather footwear. It was specifically permitted but only when wearing pants (there's an old, idiotic, belief that you can see the reflection of a girl's panties in patent leather shoes if she's wearing a skirt). So I could not wear the rainbow boots to class. But their sister boots in black patent leather with silver details were totally permitted (silver, also being specifically permitted on shoes as some might have grommets for laces bwahahahaha!). Still sporting the 2 inch platform and 4 inch heel, mind you. The school didn't have any limits on heel size, assuming high schoolers wouldn't want to be in heels all day, I guess? Something about losing the whimsy of the silver holographic rainbows also had the bonus effect of taking them from a "club kid" mood to a darker "hooker boots" realm. And to think, I would never have even considered the black pair if it weren't for my recent fascination with our dress code.
The black boots also happened to be on discount whereas my silver ones would have been full price. So I walked away with enough money to buy a pair of pants to wear with my new boots. A plan began to formulate in my devious brain. I invited my friends to join me at one of the local thrift stores and we spent the afternoon hunting for the ugliest pants we could find that were still within the guidelines of the school dress code. And we did. They were bright orange polyester pants with little grey-green amorphous dots on them. Something akin to an incredibly tiny giraffe print. You almost couldn't make out the green, just that there was a pattern to the orange. Something about the two colors clashed enough that they almost vibrated in front of your eyes, making you half dizzy/half nauseated if you stared too long. And, as luck would have it, I scored a deal on an orange, shag sweater that was the exact same shade! I looked like a half finished sesame street character on top and a lost disco reject on bottom.... oh, did mention they were slightly belled straight legged orange polyester pants?
I strolled into class on monday looking like a rejected extra from Saturday Night Fever. My new platform boots had heavy wooden heels that clunked loudly everywhere I walked. I now stood four inches taller making me stand out even more in the halls, and rivaling some of my teachers for presence in the classroom. I watched some of them glare at my new boots and began to figure out which ones had taken issue with my knee high moccasins. I could tell the teachers who were getting a laugh out of it, too. But I didn't' stop there. It became my life's mission to seek out the most horrendous clothing and outfits I could concoct. I didn't care how I looked anymore. I had been so careful when I packed to make sure my clothes had all been suitable. And by their own admission, my boots were within the code. They just hadn't liked them. I had done my utmost to dress within their rules and they had arbitrarily decided something wasn't good enough because they didn't like it. So now I wore something hideous every single day so they had to see me in something nobody liked. Every. Single. Day. After all, what could they do? Just tell me EVERY SINGLE DAY that I wasn't dressed appropriately but never in violation? At some point I would cry it was personal, maybe even racial. By their own admission it didn't violate the rules. And I was certain to never violate the rules. That just wasn't my style. Plus, at this point in a battle of wills, you can't afford to get sloppy and give the other side any advantage. (Mom always said I was stubborn)
The nice thing about boarding school is the girls are happy to share clothes around with anyone who will share back. So instead of just one closet, I had like 30 to pick from just in my dorm. Sure most of my clothes matched each other by intent and planning. But they looked absurd with clothes picked by/for other people. Someone might have a loud shirt they only wear with a black skirt. But I'd pair it with a printed skirt from 3 rooms down in clashing colors just because I could. Still within code.
I wore those hooker boots any time I didn't have on a skirt. I invested in more polyester than a school should legally be allowed to have on campus for fire safety reasons. I sought out every consignment, vintage, second hand shop in town (and there were a lot! it was a largely hippie town so the pickings were fantastic). I put together 3 piece suits (with ties) that made me look so butch they actually asked my mother if I was gay at her parent teacher conference (apparently dressing badly makes you a lesbian?). I braided my bangs into a single braid and would put heavy earrings at the end to weigh it down then swing it around like a pendulum over my desk or book during class by swirling my head (only if I was bored in a class of a teacher I suspected of costing me my boots). Anything and everything I could do to be visually assaulting to the senses, I did.
At the above mentioned parent teacher meeting, they asked my mom if she could speak to me about my clothing and she asked, surprised, if I was breaking any rules. They explained about the boots. Mom told me she laughed and said there was nothing she could do. "If there's one thing my daughter hates, it's being punished for a rule she didn't know existed or a rule that never existed in the first place. If you want to make a rule today to stop her, she won't do it tomorrow....I bet you never saw those boots again. But you took away something she loved for seemingly no good reason. She sees that as a punishment even if you only saw it as a request. And now she's punishing you back. Simple as that. I suggest you just let it go and fix your handbook over the summer. Otherwise, you'll run out of paper, trying to print daily changes to keep up with the loopholes she'll find. My daughter loves finding loopholes. I should never have given her so many riddles as a child." Upon hearing this, they admitted that the only reason my new boots had been "ignored" thus far is that; this having been my reaction to the banning of the first pair, some were fearful what I might find to wear in retaliation if a second pair was banned. And, obedient student that I was, I never did wear my knee high suede moccasins again.
Random Conclusion stuffs:
They never did come after me for a single other dress code issue...except once when my skirt was too short (honestly not intentional, each teacher measured slightly differently). And I didn't return the next year for entirely unrelated reasons so I don't know what changes they may have made.
I'll include a photo of the boots. I've kept them all these years later just for the smile I get when I find them in the bottom of a box while looking for something else. And here's the last shirt I'm sure I have from those days. It's literally the ugliest piece of clothing I've ever owned and I can't bring myself to throw it away because I think of this story every time I see it and laugh. And I know somewhere is one photo of me in my orange shag outfit. If I ever find it, I will share that, as well. I had a blast tearing that dress code to shreds.
So remember to take your problems, turn them on their side, flip them inside out, look at life from a funny angle and you never know what cracks you might find.
And it's another great story of my awesome mom totally having my back.... Though looking back as an adult, I'll bet she was a little pissed they banned her boots, too. I mean, after all, if they had been more specific in the handbook, she could have kept them at home the entire time instead of in my closet at school, gathering dust!
Miss you, Mom!
edited for grammar
edit for comments: No, I'm not a lawyer in my adult life. It just wasn't my path. But I'm self employed, starting a business in an industry I'm extremely excited and passionate about and I enjoy nearly every single minute of work I have put into it. I'm blessed and thankful to love what I do.
another edit: This took place in the mid 90s.

In terms of humans, the United States Army can easily fit ten pounds of shit into a five pound bag. There is no room to swing a cat in the numerous vehicles I have been subjected to enter. Capacity is the objective, and comfort is meaningless. "We're going to pack you into a cattle car, then pack you into an airplane, and then we are going to pack the sky full of Paratroopers! The old life changed after Assessment and Selection, and I found myself flying "White Tail" (Commercial Air) more often than "Gray Tail (Military). However, flying White Tail is not without issues.
My second deployment to Lebanon was "Planes, Trains, and Automobiles." My initial flight out of Baltimore Washington International (BWI) was canceled without notice. It was time to call the Travel Princess who coordinates all our civilian travel.
Ring! Ring! Ring!
Travel Princess: Hello
Sloppy: Hey Travel Princess. It's Sloppy. My flight out of BWI was canceled.
Travel Princess: That sucks. Need me to book the same flight tomorrow?
Sloppy: No. I have an engagement tomorrow, and I need to fly tonight.
Travel Princess Magic!
Travel Princess: I just found a flight out of Dulles International Airport (IAD).
Sloppy: When do I fly?
Travel Princess: Three hours!
Sloppy Brain: Fuck. My. Life.
Sloppy: Okay. Looks like I will be...
Travel Princess: Having awkward conversations with a Cab Driver!?!
Sloppy: Exactly.
Travel Princess: I have bad news though!
Sloppy: Excellent. What is it?
Travel Princess: I can't get you a window seat. I got you an aisle seat.
Sloppy: So long as I am on the end and not subjected to two strangers.
Travel Princess: Also, you won't be going through London Heathrow. You'll be traveling through Kuwait City International (KWI).
Sloppy: (Frustrated) AWESOME!
That's how it started. Thankfully, my cab driver was more introverted than I and there was zero conversation during the commute to Washington D.C. Much to my surprise, the new-start of my international travels went swimmingly. Unlike BWI, the Transportation Security Authority (TSA) had little interest in the gadgetry in my suitcase.
Minor Rant
Dear Reader, have you ever been told a "Fact" that you did not know, or believe to be true? I am typically that guy for other people, but Troy was that guy for me. He was a former Troop Sergeants Major, and full of absolutely useless knowledge.
Troy: Did you know you cannot hum while holding your nose?
Sloppy: Bullshit!
Pause
Sloppy: Fuck!
​
Troy: Did you know bleach expires?
Sloppy: Bleach does not expire.
Troy: Yeah, actually, it does.
Sloppy: You're a fucking idiot. Bleach does not expire.
Troy: Bet you lunch it does?
Sloppy: Deal
Detailed Internet Calculations (DIC)
Sloppy: Fuck. What do you want for lunch?
Dear Reader, there are also the moments in which someone tells you a "Fact," but there is no way to scientifically prove that it is, in deed, factual. My "Army work"was uniquely different than the typical "Army work." There are times in which I travel with equipment that peaks the interest of a TSA Agent. I have no issues providing a mundane overview, but I don't have the time, or the authorization to provide detailed insight. Thus, Airport Security can quickly become a lethargic process.
Troy: Did you know TSA Agents try to avoid inspecting luggage with sex toys?
Sloppy: What?
Troy: Like if you have a giant dildo in your bag. They won't check it.
Sloppy: How in the hell do you know that?
Troy: My buddy. He is a TSA Agent and said he never checks bags with sex toys.
Sloppy: That does not mean this is indicative of all TSA Agents.
Troy: No. Probably not. I know they never check my bag though.
Sloppy: Crazy Eye Glare!?!
Troy: Yup. I travel with a dildo.
Dear Reader, I am certain TSA would check your bag with your dildo was nestled tightly to an object that screamed, "I'm a blast at parties." Simply writing, Troy's advice is by no means backed by substantiated fact, but TSA has never asked me to explain my unique gadgets, or the dildo in my carry-on baggage.
Rant Complete
I am not enthusiastic about aisle seats. I don't particularly care for strangers. I found my seat near the end of the aircraft, and the four seats to my left were empty. They also remained empty when the Captain announced they would be closing the doors, and we would be departing in thirty-minutes. I thought I had just won the lottery. Then I seen a mother, Crib-Midget, and Mini-Human approaching. There were four seats, and only three humans, but I felt that someone had just kicked my puppy.
Dear Reader, I have Obsessive Compulsive Disorder (OCD). Everything has it's place, and I match everything when I dress. I iron and hand my clothes the day before I wear them. I take great pride in my appearance. My OCD-alarm was pinging when I seen them approach. The Mini-Human was likely around ten years old, and carrying the largest drink Starbucks ever made. They forcefully made their way to their seats, and the Mini-Human plopped down next to me. He set his frou-frou drink down on the flimsy tray-table, and then started jostling around.
I take Tylenol PM as soon as I sit down on an international flight. Sleeping is my way of time traveling. I found myself in a dilemma. My body was telling me to close my eyes and visit the sandman, but my brain was forecasting a catastrophe.
Mini-Human Jostling Around
Sloppy, with the reflexes of a cat and speed of a mongoose, catches the drink as it's about to tip.
Mini-Human: Sorry. Thank you.
Sloppy: No problem.
Second Time
My reflexes are starting to fade, but the cup nearly tips off again as he plays video games on a handheld device.
Mini-Human: Sorry.
Sloppy: No problem. Please just watch it though.
TIME TRAVEL (Thirty-Minutes)
I wake to a very cold sensation on my brand new pants. There was chilled coffee, delicious caramel, and whipped cream all over my crotch area. My facial expressions clearly frightened the Mini-Human, but I knew it was an accident. I told him it was okay. However, I was forced to wait until we got to "cruising altitude" before I made my trip to the bathroom. I was forced to sit and just let the frothy goodness embed it's deliciousness into my outfit.
Cruising Altitude and Failed Un-dirty Clothes (FUC) Sloppy returns to slumber.
I don't recall exactly how long I was sleeping, but I was out-to-the-world. I awoke to a stewardess frantically shaking me, and telling me that I need to address an immediate issue.
Stewardess: Sir. Sir. SIR!
Sloppy: (Groggy) Yeah!
Stewardess: Here. You're baby is crying.
Sloppy Brain: Fuck. My kid is crying.
Sloppy: (Groggy) I'm so sorry.
Sloppy is now holding the last thing anyone should trust him with; another human life.
Sloppy Brain: Wait! Wait! Wait! You don't have a kid. Well, you do, but you don't have a baby, or kid on this flight.
Sloppy: Ma'am. Ma'am. Ma'am!
Stewardess turns!
Sloppy: This is not my baby. I don't have a baby.
Sloppy motions "HERE! TAKE KID NOW" gesture.
Stewardess: I am sorry, but I can't.
Sloppy: What?
Stewardess: I can't take the baby. Where are the parents?
Sloppy looks at empty aisle seats.
Sloppy Brain: Great! Fucking great. You're dream of an "empty aisle" came true, but know you don't know where the mother of this screaming child is.
Dear Reader, I have a baby cradled in my arm like a football, and I don't know where the endzone is, and spiking a football-sized human is not generally a socially acceptable practice. I need to "Heisman" this kid, but had no earthly idea where the mother was, aside from being on the airplane of course. The plane was a great place to start though.
Contrary to what many people would assume, I love the Middle East (ME), and predominately Muslim countries. I love the food, and I love the people. I have a disdain for Muslims whom initiate the lead jellybean exchange with me, but I would have that problem with Christians and Atheists as well. I generally dislike anyone who wishes to expedite my shelf-life by way of supersonic paper-cuts. There are cultural customs that make finding an absentee parent difficult during an international flight, specifically burkas.
The mother was a "ninja," and wore a head-to-toe black burka. I literally didn't know what she looked like. Further complicating my location effort was the fact that she was not alone. There were at least another hundred ladies that shopped at the same Dooey & Burka store.
Stewardess: What was she wearing?
Sloppy: That!
Looks!
Stewardess: (Puzzled) Is that her!?!
Sloppy (Fuck. My. Life Face) NO! She is wearing a black burka. Aside from that, I don't know what she looks like.
Stewardess: My god! This is gonna be challenging.
The stewardess was firm on her stance of not taking the Crib-Midget, but she thankfully assisted during Operation Find Unattended Kid Mother En-route (FUK ME). We, but mostly me, woke up at least thirty people before finding the mother's ass planted in Business Class. I can only imagine what the other ninja ladies thought when I asked them...
Sloppy: Ma'am. Ma'am. Excuse me? Is this your child (Extends human outwards)?
There were a considerable amount of "NO" answers. Worse? Some of the people did not speak English. I wonder what was going through their minds.
Dramatization
Sloppy: English. English English English?
Translation
"Would you like my child?"
"I found this "thing" next to me. Is it yours?"
"Free Baby! Piping hot Free Baby here. Get your Free Baby."
The stewardess had a long conversation with absentee-mother, and she returned to Coach with the rest of the animals. I couldn't see past the eyes, but she looked angry with me. Not only did I rat her out for her stealthy move to Business Class, but I passed off a crying human.
Dear Reader, the rest of the flight was uneventful. The landing and hustle at Kuwait City International was anything but. I was familiar with the layout of the airport, but I was low on time. I had decided to take another attempt at washing my pants. I entered the nearest bathroom and found a line of men, and they were all washing their feet in the sink.
I get it. I understand why they were doing it, but there is no "wait in line" in the Middle East. You, like an asshole, push your way to the front and skip everyone else in line. It's "a way" in the United States, but is not "the way" most Americans practice "wait in line." I got sick of standing in line after about ten men budged. It was my turn.
Sloppy: Excuse me. I was in front of you, and I am going to...
He looks me up-and-down, and then it happened.
Male: At least I didn't piss my pants.
It was perfect English, but I didn't have the time to explain that I didn't piss myself. I just rolled with it. The second cleaning attempt was just as fruitless as the first cleaning attempt. The only thing that made my trip better was chaos in Beirut International (BEY). I arrived, and managed to beat the rush through customs. I was then greeted by a nearly seven foot tall giant named Jimmy.
Jimmy: Whoa! Did you piss your pants?
Sloppy: Not yet. Long story. I have to piss before we roll.
I was more than familiar with the layout of this particular airport, but I was paralyzed with piss-pain. I could barely walk, let alone run, to the bathroom.
Jimmy: Ahh. I will go hold up the line.
It was an odd statement. I was not certain how Jimmy would, "hold up the line," but I would soon find out. The bathroom at Beirut International is immediately to the right after you depart customs. However, it's the size of a small closet. There are two urinals, and one toilet stall. The spacing between the urinal and opposite wall is no more than four feet though. Again, think long, but narrow closet.
I continue the agonizing pee walk and I am a bit disappointed when I see a large line forming near the bathroom. There was "loud chatter" that I didn't understand, and some clearly disgruntled humans. I rounded the corner and nearly pissed myself. Jimmy was in deed "holding up the line." Jimmy's back was firmly planted on the wall to the right, and a flowing stream of yellow piss was arcing across the room, and landing in the urinal to the left. Jimmy was peeing from wall-to-wall. Nobody was going past urinal number one without receiving a golden shower.
Jimmy: (Smile) I got you man. Come in. I'll pinch her off.
Sloppy, like Moses (Kind of) parts pee stream and proceeds to second urinal.
I take a look to the left to get a glimpse of the chaotic line at the entrance. There were loud grumbles of displeasure, but, then I seen an old man. The old man was at least 70 years or older, and his face went from scowl, an onto smile. He then started to clap and I congratulate Jimmy's technique.
Old Man: (Laughing with Arabic Accent) Bravo. Bravo.
Sloppy: That was fucking brilliant.
Jimmy: Yeah. Didn't think you wanted to wait in line. Pulling out a gun would have been too much, so I figure peeing across the room would work.
Sloppy: Good to know for the next time.
That's that Dear Reader. Not an ordinary Military tale, but it was the oddest Military travel tale I have had. I "pissed my pants" with coffee, which ruined them. I was handed a baby that was not mine, and then forced to conduct a Ninja-hunt. I was accused of pissing my pants by men who were washing their feet in sinks. I was then accused of pissing my pants by Jimmy, and then Jimmy saved the day with four feet of arc pissing that was superbly executed. I'd like to thank the Army for this tale, because I don't know if Joe Civilian has experiences like this. Fucking Army!
​
Cheers,
Sloppy

Post updated and complete

There are plenty of 🚀🚀🚀🚀 to keep your attention. This will be long. This will be epic. It even includes a physics lesson and how GME is in a physics equation, validating Valhalla.
Just as reminder, most of you should have possibly received your first “welcome” $5 certificate from GME. Your first month’s Certificates will be available at the beginning of calendar month. You also received 10k points to be redeemed for 2x$5 off coupons or donate $10 to a charity. So by tomorrow you should have $10-$20 incentive to make it rain at GME. (You can end up with min $75 in certificates in the 12 month period)
Since “people” are lurking and keeping tabs on us, let me have your full attention with this.
Ryan is Vito Corleone and Mel is Don Ciccio. More on this later, but just in case you are clueless, here is a little preview.
Since many people like to compare GME to BlockBuster, both BlockBuster and Toys R Us can be Antonio Andolini. I’ll include an important economic lesson later regarding all 3 companies.
I want to start some #️⃣ #trends

1. #TheDogFather

I think it’s very fitting for our savior Lord Cohen. Yet still “clean” and catchy for mainstream media. He may be aware of us, but we want him to know that we support him and are looking forward to him.

2. #AnOfferHeCantRefuse

I think we all know this one...

3. #HireOptimusPrimo

GME didn’t take me seriously. I contacted HQ, the HR department specifically. I said I would like to get on board with GME and that I’m responsible for a massive spike in their memberships. The guy was dumbfounded of my request to look into Pro Membership numbers and said he would “email others to look into it and they may contact” me...then he suggested that I should still apply for positions at GME....when I said I want to be on board, I literally meant the board....but I’ll be willing to start off as a district manager or in marketing.
Now it’s been a few days, and I know it’s right before New Years, but Sherman has yet to contact me. Then again, he doesn’t even have twitter, showing how old school he is.
3) I will need your input for additional # ——————————————————————————

Official Start of the Post

WSB is what GME is to the general public. Just like GME, most people don’t understand WSB and have a negative view on us. They hear rumors, see glimpses and glorified headlines and make their opinion on WSB.
Are we perfect? Hell no. Are we saints? Absolutely not. Do we have some bad apples who are cringeworthy that even we at WSB despise? Absolutely! WSB isn’t for soft ❄️ and the faint of heart individuals who take things at face value.
The truth is, just like GME, there is a lot of positives to us, but not everyone notices that and looks at both GME and WSB as pure evil. Many are betting against GME and WSB. Unfortunately for them, both are here to stay, and will become a greater presence as time goes on.
Have you ever beat it up so good that months later they contacted you back for a repeat? Well you haven’t, but your wife can attest to this experience.
“The axe forgets what the tree remembers.”
We are going to hit Mel and other shorts twice.
Before I lose you since this will be a lengthy post with lofty goals of charity and coordinated social media presence...
GME 🚀🚀🚀🚀🚀🚀🚀🚀🚀🚀🚀🌕🌕🌕🌕🌕🌕📈📈📈📈📈📈📈
This is an attempt to coordinate our efforts and become a more powerful force to be reckoned with.

Speaking of Force, even Physics validates GME🚀🚀🚀 🚀🚀🚀

You see there is an equation for Newton’s Law of Universal Gravitation. The law is that objects with greater masses have a greater (attraction) gravitational force. The attractive force is directly related to the mass of the objects, and inversely related to the distance between them.
The more massive the objects, the greater the force. The greater the distance, the less of the force. Want proof? Have you ever seen any chicks on my 600 lb life who is single? They all have a partner. Have you seen the 1000 lb sisters? One of them is currently pregnant. That means that someone, possibly one of you, managed to get her pregnant.
The law validates itself, the more massive you are, the more attractive you become. GME has been a massive target for shorts, it has been and will remain a huge attraction to shorts and bears.
GME is so attractive, that Mel left GME for dead. They could’ve closed positions, they weren’t satisfied at $4. They want GME bankrupt.
Don Ciccio was wise enough to order Vito to be killed when he was 9, but his foot soldiers weren’t the best. In fact, when Vito’s mom begged Don Ciccio to spare Vito who is ”dumb-witted and only 9 years old” after having killed her husband and her oldest son who has vowed revenge; Don Ciccio responded “when he becomes bigger, he will come for revenge and kill me.”
So calling Mel Don Ciccio is an insult because Don Ciccio was wise to attempt to tie up loose ends, but the fate is the same.
Back to Physics: The law and equation...
The equation (for Earth) is:

F = GMeM / Re²

Can you believe this???

We all know what Re means...but if they are scattered and too far from each other, the force is not as great. This is why we have to recruit and bring all the scattered individuals to join the cause. The closer the distance of Re, the greater the force.
With that said, not all forces are evil, and we will be benefiting many great causes.
We are the leading sub in gifting awards, by a landslide, and that’s not even coordinated. Imagine if we did actually start to coordinate for our goals.
FFS, we may have set the record of most awards given to a post for a post that said to buy shares instead of awards.
People are aware of us....but they don’t take us seriously. They notice us, they lurk for their headlines and etc, but they don’t see the true power behind us. Every now and then, they may acknowledge or refer to us, but the reality is, it is always in a negative way. In fact, that’s ok. We don’t want to give the illusion that we do charities and donations to improve our “image.” We are not like the powerful and famous people who do things for PR purposes. We are just your regular individuals who have a more giving heart then the people who look down upon us.
Many people here have individually donated to charities and towards great causes, for genuine reasons, and that is far more valuable than those who donate for pure PR.

Back to the tree and axe saying:

The tree is Mel, old, ancient, and deeply rooted in their beliefs. While trees are beneficial, this one is rotten and is experiencing heart rot. On top of this, there are many termites planning on feasting (smaller position shorts and bears.) We are not going to eradicate them, we are going to hit them twice. They’ll call the first one a fluke, contribute it to new console releases, and pure luck of WSB.
But at some point, in order to realize gains, we will have to sell. Eventually time will pass, GME will be lower than its peak values because of the inevitable squeeze, and some unfortunate souls will be FOMOing at the top and be left bag holding. These bags will be so big and heavy that not even Southwest Airlines will let them fly for free.
The likes of Mel, boomer analysts, and bears will rise again and claim that it is going back to the “5 year trend.” They’ll be setting themselves up for a 2nd round...But by this time

TheDogFather Cohen has taken over GME

and laid the foundations of successful business that will help GME transition and thrive.
GME has consolidated and we’ve kept it above $19. But no one is taking us seriously. There was an obvious attack that made the Uptick Rule go into effect this week, and many expected today to be the dip. We here at WSB don’t have 🧻 TP hands, but there are others who do. Those individuals are not aware of us and are easily manipulated. We should educate them, harden them up and have them join the cause.
Just like how many of you and the public weren’t aware of the memberships, many people (outside of here) aren’t aware of the strategy. Or if they are, they may not understand what to do and what not to do...ie during uptick rule times and not using margins etc.
We also want to quickly spread solid info. Some of you posted my post on stock twits and noticed other people talking about it. Thank you for that, we made a reach, but we need to make it bigger.
This is where my new info and DD will come into play, and many others as well.
The reality is, many people (consumers and “investors” are still having the stereotypical view of GME. These stereotypes are leading to a downfall and an uphill battle.
Getting the word out and educating people is the best thing to do, not just for GME, but for all businesses. There is great lesson to learn from and there’s more to it than just “they didn’t transition with the times”
There are valuable lessons to learn from BlockBuster and TRU, which I will get to.

You can redeem 5k points for an additional $5 certificate or donate to the current charities GME is affiliated with.

We can also come up with our indirect donation / charity. One of my ideas was is that we can organize a program with hospitals.
We can buy memberships under fake names or possibly

Ryan Chewy

The Ryan Chewy name will serve a 2 fold purpose. Besides in the name of TheDogFather, it’ll serve as a warning signal to Sherman as what is to come and that he better not start taking credit for more “memberships and retention.”
And use the phone number of a local children’s hospital. This bit of info can be shared with that hospital, and they can use the certificates to purchase little toys etc. Obviously the hospital would need to use their own funds to cover the remaining balance, but perhaps they already have such budget, or maybe they can set up and we can donate here and there.
At the very least, they can get a physical copy of the magazine (assuming you signed up for $20)...but since it’s COVID, the magazine can’t really be shared...so maybe digital is better.
These are just random ideas, if we combine all of our low IQs, we can come up with some good benefit drive ideas etc. ——————————————————————————-

New Update

Alright earlier today I wrote an Erotica novel of DD, which was mainly a preface / foreplay to this. The idea was to be able to finish it all in one go, but I ran out of my supply...
All jokes aside, life came up and I thought I could finish it rather soon but that didn’t happen.
Many of you have an attention span that is longer than you could last in bed, so I’ll just spill the DD here. I highly encourage you to go back to that post because I’m trying to coordinate and a make a push for charities, donation ideas, and creating a social media push / trend to not only round up undiagnosed Autists out there, but to also to send batman signals to #TheDogFather Ryan Cohen.
The best “news” can be slaughtered by poor presentation. I have doubts with Sherman up there, perhaps they’ll use someone effective. 🤷🏻‍♂️

DD points: 🚀🚀🚀🚀🚀🚀🚀🚀

1) GME is making a bigger push to becoming PC oriented, not just games and accessories, but parts as well.
2) The reason Sherman was able to qualify GME as “essential business” was because of the few PC stuff they had. Then they sold out of that PC stuff in March and after that they were basically open because of PC qualification despite not having any PC items. By switching to “technology” category, Sherman would have to qualify them into that. The way he has been able to do so is for 2 reasons.
A) To ensure that they’ll stay open in similar lockdowns. This will probably not be mentioned...but the dude did push for his stores to remain open and got backlash for it. Already tarnished a damaged image.
B) Change business model and get in that Tech Train.
3) OmniChannel experience.
4) GME has signed contracts with “about 6” vendors and providers “a couple which were just recently.” That number was a ball park # off the top of their mind. These include MSI, NewEgg and so on.
5) You will be able to outright buy gaming PCs in stores and / or just order any part you may need. They’ve ran small trials for these and plan on rolling it out to stores at different times. Unfortunately not every store will have the same experience/ products based on demographic/ size...but they should still be able to order and ship to home or store pick up.
6) Stores will have dedicated areas for PC experience. Ok let’s be realistic, most stores are the size a studio...so the PC area will be a house for ants.
But if you check out local GME stores and see empty display areas / locked glass with nothing in it, this is where it is probably going to be dedicated.
7) Even if you buy $10 card with $5 certificate, you’re not hurting GME. All those cards have been paid for before they got on the wall. You’re helping money come back, plus the goal is that people will spend more money.
The goal from my 1st post with push of pro memberships wasn’t to rely on the $15 or $20...and have that as the savior.
The idea is that with more memberships, you have more leads, and you have people who are more likely to buy products from you. You’ve now successfully pried someone from going a bigger retailer or online merchant.
8) Buy memberships for other people. You can also buy memberships for business such as daycare / hospitals etc. At the very least they can have a physical magazine delivered on a monthly basis ($20 version) even if they never choose to use certificates.
9) Pro Rewards:

digital gamers benefit hugely.

Remember those PSN / Steam etc cards, there is 40pts for every dollar spent on those as opposed to 20 pts on everything else.
Why does this matter? Faster points to redeem certificates for yourself or charities already affiliated with GME.
Every 5k can be redeemed for $5 certificate or donated to charities.
If you just recently signed up, you got 10K points already, plus welcome $5 coupon. Your 1st official $5 certificate will be available 1st of each month... so you may have up $20 available pretty soon...
10) GME now offers their own CC, which is available to use the same day. They also offer flex pay options from 3 different vendors who allow you to qualify from your phone and make payments ...GME isn’t taking this risk, they get paid from the vendors, customer pays the vendor.
They also have a rent to own program, with minimum of $120+.
Final points:
Most customers are buying for other people, that isn’t going to change. So while e-commerce is huge, some Karens will always need to show up to store...
But GME sells “used games” for nearly same price as new or more expensive than new games. They don’t make this decision, they sign contracts that can’t reduce price on these games until x amount of time...
But GME barely offers any $$$ for my product.
Hi there, they are a business, the most important thing for a business after great customer service is to have profit margins.

How long 1 minute is depends on which side of the bathroom door you’re on...

Let’s talk a quick lesson of value vs worth.
Your PSP might be worth $100 to you, but it only has a a value of $5 to GME. Why? Because for every 1 person that comes in looking for a PSP, they have 15 others trying to trade in. After they reach their limit of trade in, wtf are they going to do? Collect every PSP at the price you want them to? So that’s part of why you get offered low prices.
There’s other things involved. They have bills to pay, electricity, rent, wages, medical benefits, legal fees, alarm / security, maintenance on commercial grade AC/ventilation and many more. Oh yea, they also provide people with a safe place to trade in without risking getting robbed, shot, or killed.
When any business closes, it’s not just those employees who lose their job. The services that that business relies on (mentioned above) now lose a customer and revenue as well. There is less stores for that AC company to send people out to...which means less money for them, which leads to more lost jobs.
And you know what caused it? That lazy bum who chose the comfort of purchasing from home from an online merchant etc. There’s much more to this and this is just the tip of the iceberg when people choose how you do business and shop. There’s pros and cons to everything. I’m not saying never order online, but try to keep a balance. Support your local businesses when you can.
People complain about not giving their child the same memories of going to TRU, but don’t realize that they themselves led to the downfall. GME was also there for many people who went and played video games at stores for free, as opposed to an arcade. Now people turn their backs on them when they have the opportunity to pay it back, by simply buying the same stuff they are going to anyway from other online / brick & mortar merchants whose gaming department is less than 5% of their piece of pie.

TL;DR:

ICR changed to Tech because they are changing their ways, and going more PC oriented. They’ve signed contracts with vendors and providers. More focus to PC gaming, include actual gaming computers, and parts that can be ordered.
🚀🚀🚀🚀🚀📈📈📈📈📈📈🌕🌕🌕🌕🌕
Don’t forget the hashtags when @RC

1. #TheDogFather
2. #AnOfferHeCantRefuse
3. #HireOptimusPrimo

[Check this comment for info on stacking points vs auto redeeming](https://www.reddit.com/wallstreetbets/comments/knxf4f/gme_dd_pt2_coordinated_charity_for_autism_and/gho03dg/?utm_source=share&utm_medium=ios_app&utm_name=iossmf&context=

4) Already being used but never hurts, remember to use #WeWantCohen
Makes donations easier!!! Educate people and 🚀🚀🚀🚀🚀🚀

The results are in for Match 4. The winner is…
Rushen walked out across the training ground after the four hours had concluded, a beaming smile on his face as she walked up to the four trainers. “Looks like I made some real good choices on you guys, huh? Really put these guys through the ringer!”
The various trainees stood around chatting with each other about their different experiences throughout the day before forming an orderly line once their leader came into view. Many were exhausted, yet at the same time, there was a certain sense of camaraderie there, high spirits… They felt ready to take on the world, yet they were starting to think they may not necessarily need to think of everyone as a potential enemy either.
Fira tilted her head back before taking a few steps forward. “Look, Rushen, compliments don’t keep the lights on or teeth perfect. You gonna pay us or not?”
Rushen took a quick step back and pulled out several light blue envelopes and handed them to both the pairs. “Figured you two would want yours in cash… Don’t lemme hear you spent it on nothing shady, alright?”
Fira almost smiled as she felt what must have been a decent stack of crisp bills. A smirk would do. “That’s satisfactory, yeah.” Byte, then, gave her an expectant look, only to be handed an even-looking cut. “Alright, fine.”
Cab and Inch, meanwhile, simply thanked Rushen for theirs, receiving it through checks as normal people tended to prefer receiving large payments for services.
After payment had been dispersed Rushen took a step back and looked over the paris. “Listen, the boss is impressed with both of you, but she specifically requested that two of you come to speak with her in her office…”
Right… The bonus, huh? The four guest instructors stood, then, tensely… So it was only one team getting it, huh?
“Sauvignon, Nine, c’mon.” Rushen jerked his thumb. “Allday’s a busy woman. Best not to make her wait.”
The Black Hill Estate, with a score of 76 to Graveyard Shift’s 69!

Category	Winner	Point Totals	Comments
Popularity	Black Hill Estate	18-12	Nine votes split 5.5-3.5.
Quality	Tie	24-24	Reasoning
JoJolity	Black Hill Estate	24-23	Reasoning
Conduct	Tie	10-10

“Fira, Byte, you two can go home now… Keep an eye on Elephant Bones. Good eats there. Think between that and what you could do with that gym next door, you’d be better off going legit.”
Byte took an instinctive step forward in protest. “What the hell do you mean? How’s a regimen like theirs gonna get a meeting with the big boss?”
Rushen shrugged and turned away before speaking. “Not my call. You two did good work, though… Really. Remember that when you’re countin’ out your bills there.”
Byte sighed, then, turning to Fira, who shrugged. “Let’s get something to eat, I guess… That’s something to do. What’s even open right now?”
Rushen saw the quartet off in their separate ways with a sigh, folding his arms. Today was a good day… Now, I only hope tomorrow’s as good. The day these recruits and I take down a whole crime ring is fast approaching, and even beyond that… Ugo ain’t just gonna go quietly. I am damn sure he’s gonna start something with that Neighborhood Watch he helped fold into us in Aurelio, and with Oxbow breathing down our necks until we can get peace worked out West of there, I can’t do a thing but hope they don’t act before it’s safe to disband them.
Within the next fifteen minutes Cab and Inch were in an elevator going to the top floor of one of the most imposing buildings in the city: ODIN HQ. As they rose Cab turned to Inch, his brow furrowed. “How much do we even know about this Miss. Allday anyways? You don’t see her around much, just hear her talked about in the news, politicians and protesters and the like… I only really see anything concrete in the form of projects she slaps that name of hers on.”
Inch thought for a moment and spoke. “It… It is a paradox to me, yes. Strange that someone so invested in this city is at once so elusive from it.” She turned to the ticing floor tracker at the top of the elevator steadily going up. “In any case this is a good opportunity. I doubt that people like us get many chances to meet with her, let alone requested by her.”
With that the elevator door slowly opened revealing a large, open office space with a multitude of white boards and empty parfait cups scattered across the space. “Nine, Sauvignon… Correct? It is a pleasure to meet you.” Sitting in the middle at a large, glass desk sat a white-haired woman with as welcoming of a smile as she could muster at the time. The effort of goodwill seemed earnest, but big smiles seemed uncomfortable and foreign on her face.
“My name is Arazu Allday… Though, I suppose you didn’t need to be told that. Ergh, I’m not good at niceties…” She shook her head, quiet and frowning a moment, before looking up with a sterner sort of warmth. “I wanted to thank you personally for your approach to aiding Mr. Smith in instruction. Sure, the combat lessons were good and fine, but the wise know that is far from the only thing this new generation of VALKYRIE needed to learn.”
“I’ll cut to the chase. You’ve done a great thing for us as a company, developing a regimen specifically to take the toxicity of Ugo McBaise and the ‘wisdom’ that he descended from out of those recruits' heads. I think now, they’re on a better track. With all that out of the way though, before we talk more, would either of you like a refreshment? As you can tell, sweetness does not come easy to me, but… Perhaps a parfait would substitute for that.”
There’s still a few hours left yet, as of posting this, to vote and make your voices heard in a bitter 2v2 Battle in a Stairwell.
Scenario:
Sound’s Garden Eastern Strip - Fox’s Penthouse Apartment
“Alright, Toby, you’re doing great! You’re recovering faster than any client I’ve ever had, even… You’ll be running marathons by Summertime like this!”
Toby Fox, the elusive shadow boss of the Entertainment District’s underworld, managed to step away from the bars that his physical therapist had set up for him, limping slightly, yet at the same time, confident in his progress. He had been shot months ago, twice in places where a few centimeters off could have paralyzed him for life, or even killed him, yet he’d managed to be up on his feet, if weakly, before the year had even ended. It would’ve gone a lot faster had he felt safe patronizing the Devil Blue, but… No. Peres Straviat was friendly with No, and with the University Board. Healing up the hard way, out of the public eye, had to do.
He rested his feet in the sand garden he’d made into a workout space, curling his toes against the grains and drinking from a water bottle as the therapist smiled at him. She had a very affable, can-do attitude about her, and he was certain this motivating presence had helped him along as well.
“A fresh start, then… That’s what this is. Tigran and I, we’re clearing our heads of all that nonsense about expansion, and getting back to the roots of what made our enterprise lasting… Intimate, guerilla shows of Stand Users coerced into beating one another senseless!”
“That’s the spirit, Mr. Fox! Oh, Tigran will be delighted to hear you’re in high spirits again! I bet that-”
She paused, then, going silent, before removing a pistol from her tracksuit. “…I just heard something. Someone’s outside. Sounds like a few people… I hear the distinctive shakes of body armor.”
“A raid? How didn’t you notice sooner, with those ears of yours? If… If the sounds were drowned out, then…” He shook his head, the sand around him beginning to swirl into a sort of vortex. “No matter. If it’s VALKYRIE or the police or something finally come for us, then all we need to do is let them tear themselves to pieces against my own defenses! We’ll get away…”
“Well said!” The therapist agreed. “We’ll just walk briskly out! You can handle that on that leg of yours, right?”
“Of course…” Fox smirked, hearing the door beginning to be banged up against and walking closer, his personal sandstorm still meters around, waiting just to its side before concluding. “Alright… Let our guests in.”
But an utterly blind charge into Fox’s attack, the sort of violent and overwhelming rushdown strategies that VALKYRIE had been notorious for before, which Fox himself was basically immune to with even seconds of preparation time, didn’t come. Rather, then, a more careful approach was taken, the enemy Stand Users kiting his range, blocking fire from the therapist’s pistol, and even actively taking time to deprive him of the sand that had been at his feet, cut him off form gathering any more from his little rock garden. Soon enough, he’d needed to make a sort of cone to fend the lot of them off as he backed towards a fire escape, finding his apartment pushed into and himself more and more outnumbered.
As soon as he leapt out of the now-opened window into the escape, bracing himself for some pain on his leg and needing to rapidly climb down anyway, he instead found himself flying far, far back, sonic energies blasting him into a wall adorned with an intricately-woven quilt of a funny white dog, knocking it loose and seeing it land overtop him.
Toby Fox’s mind was racing. These… These couldn’t be VALKYRIE. They were too careful… They fought like anybody cared if they lived or died, and the only property that had been damaged at all was in his own apartment. Some special forces team doing a false flag thing? But why? That was a sonic blast just now, a sound-based strike to his very core, by a helmeted member of the unit who stepped in and approached him fearlessly, something holstered at their side. Could… Could it have been that..?
“Fox, you’re under arrest.”
At the undoubtedly masculine voice which had come from his latest attacker, despite his situation, several guns trained on him as two strong-looking guys pulled him away from any particulate, cuffed him and the physical therapist, was relief that the worst thing he was imagining hadn’t come to pass.
As Rushen Smith pulled his helmet off and took a breath, he spoke into a communicator attached to his ear, putting his finger up to it as he adjusted the sunglasses he had of course decided to wear under full body armor. “Team A reporting in. We got ‘em… Looks like we caught him in the middle of PT. No casualties, but the physical therapist pulled a gun on us too… We’re booking her too.”
“So it’s all gone smoothly, then? Excellent! Our other teams are reporting similarly… Only one who’s slipped away is Golden Boy.”
“Keep lookin’. Man going around in as much gold as that guy can’t stay hidden for long. Over and out.”
“To be honest…” Fox couldn’t help but chuckle in disbelief, breathily, wobbling on his uneasy legs. It made him happy, again, to overhear that Tigran (nobody else could be ‘Golden Boy,’ right?) “If I was going to go down, I was expecting something a little more… Climactic.”
“Yeah, well, this is it. You’re going downtown.”
The Woods at Aurelio - An Abandoned Police Station, Slightly Earlier
“Bull shit!”
Uh oh. Ugo was in a bad mood, and Rob was out shopping. Anthony ‘Ani’ Oakey, sitting in the former small-town jail cell which had been renovated into a damn serviceable emergency living space, sat up, realizing that nobody else was around at all. He’d have to bear the brunt of this guy ranting, huh?
The two of them had outright faked their deaths to get closer to the famously unhinged head of VALKYRIE… They had to, in order to make this mission work without Byron painting a target on the collective backs of all of their friends, or worse, them thinking they’d lived on to betray them. They had seen the man for what he was, not just some aggressive meathead who only knew how to rush forward, but something far more dangerous.
He was a schemer who had quietly been polishing off plans to, if need be, potentially ruin any number of people in the city. From known enemies of his like Conqueror Worm, Ernie Ford, Byron Oxbow, to even ostensible allies like Arazu Allday, Chairman Ray, Cairo Satori, and several different Board Members. If it wasn’t for the fact that he just lacked the tactical flexibility to pull anything off, he might have accomplished more, but even then, as equipped as he was, hungry as he was to bring about his idea of order, there was no way to call him anything but dangerous.
Not days later, they’d learned their new boss was fired, and lost with that any semblance of accountability he’d had. The neighborhood watch still liked him second only to their founder, and recognizing the danger to themselves that would come with refusal, and many of his long time supporters within VALKYRIE quit and joined up with him upon his firing. The sole remaining police officer in the small town took a hefty payment for an early retirement making sure he was the law of the land. Ugo took up this new base of operations, smaller though it was than his old office, and kept working like nothing was changed.
“No higher-ups, no stockholders, no need for\ paperwork piling up in my way, yeah? So basically, I’ve got more space, really.” He’d said with a cold smirk. “Don’t worry about things on my end… I’ve had money stored away in case something like this happened. I’ll land on my feet. You two are the ones who need to remember your place… And our contract stands. You are loyal to me. Not Allday and not anyone she tries to say is in charge of VALKYRIE. Honoring their orders over mine is treason, and you can ask my old second in command how that goes.
“This is a good thing in disguise. Being lead of Allday’s VALKYRIE was a good teacher, but Allday is weak, as is that excuse for a replacement she found for me. This means that we have the opportunity to be the prime law for hire in this decrepit city. You should be grateful I took you on at this turning point. The only regret I have is that all my work in tracking down and taking down the scum of the entertainment District. It had been my white whale for years, and now that glory is going to some undeserving fed” For the first time Ani caught something deeper in Ugo something seething and angry that festerd under his controlled facade.
“I…” Ani had to choose his words carefully, feeling drained of much of his enthusiasm by the hard situation he’d placed himself into. Ugo had genuinely seemed pleased with the fact that VALKYRIE was going to lead a raid on the leadership of the Entertainment District’s illegal fighting rings, excited that he’d be in charge of coordinating a massive raid that would make the company look good. “I can see why that would be frustrating… Yeah. Especially when it was Mr. Jones’ intel that helped put it all together, and…”
“I’ll take care of that bald fuck later. ‘Deal with the devil’ my ass… For now, we need to ‘prioritize.’ When your enemy has the ball, do you run in front of them and wait? No. You ‘Tackle’ them. You don’t let them gain a single yard!”
Ani rubbed his eyes, sitting upright as he realized. “What… What did you do, Ugo? Uh, sir.” He froze up a bit at the glaring eye upon him, only to say. “Sorry if I sound fresh, just… You woke me up.”
“Lucky I’m in a good mood, kid… I’ll tell you what I did. I ‘tackled,’ and opened up a ‘hole’ in their ‘defense’ because of it. That golden narcissist second-in-command, Tigran Sins… I got his number, tipped him off right before they were gonna get his penthouse.” He waggled a finger. “But I made sure it was too late for him to tell his boss shit.”
“What?” Ani tilted his head. “I don’t follow… Tell me how that’s brilliant.”
“The guy’ll fly off the handle for anything that puts his Toby in danger. Probably, because this was my plan they wrote over, he’s gonna get caught, and when he does, they’re gonna drive him over a particular ‘bridge’ to head downtown for processing.” As Ugo was speaking, he had begun to demonstrate with pieces of scrap paper that had been lying around, indicating with arrows, dots, and the like. He wasn’t the best artist.
“So what’s gonna happen is, no doubt, he’s gonna put the best hitman of all the scum in this city up there, and he’s gonna just open fire and take a ton of those weaklings down. Fox and his associates will be freed, and then, when it’s all good and disastrous…” He scribbled and scribbled aggressively, then, on either side of the poorly doodled ‘bridge,’ with a small grin. “Me and Rob and everyone else will pour in from the East and West and save the day after those screw-ups! We’ll mop them up and make their ‘new start’ a reminder that they never should have cut me away.”
“You and Rob?” Ani was trying to process all of that, that much hanging over him. “Do you… Not want me involved?”
“You’ll be in, er, what’s the word…” Ugo scratched his head a moment with the pencil, it clearly on the tip of his tongue. The tip snapped against his jawline, and he concluded. “Support! Coordination! That’s the word… I’m not gonna put you right in the line of fire. Can you imagine how that’ll taint the PR? They’ll say I have child soldiers or something… And c’mon. People need to know we have standards.”
Rob showed up soon after, and Ugo followed him into the base’s small kitchen to talk the plan over with him in between bouts of grilling, leaving Ani, frankly, mortified.
This… This guy is fucking crazy! Is he that petty that he’s going to let so many people die just to say I-told-you-so? And not just new VALKYRIE people, or that Rushen Smith guy… No doubt at all, innocent bystanders are gonna get hurt too.
Ani dragged his hands along his forehead, rolling around in his bed and quivering with thoughts rushing through his head.
This is too much… This is way too much! I can’t just… I can’t just let this happen, right? And Rob, Rob needs to know that this is unacceptable too. Maybe we can slip away ahead of time, and… He shook his head. No. I can afford to be anywhere and out of his sight, and make a case for it being part of my role, but Rob… If he breaks formation, Ugo is going to know, and then we’ll both be… I need to leave him out of this. I have to stop this insanity myself, somehow!
He looked towards the sound of the adults talking, then, filled with an uncertainty. He’d said that one of the deadliest assassins in this city would probably be involved in this…
He knew he had to act, but he couldn’t do this alone. He would need to find help some other way.
Barrier Bridge ,early afternoon
Early in the morning, Seido had gotten the call about a job holding down this bridge, that a certain transport vessel was going to be crossing sometime in the afternoon. Said transport vessel carried his rescue target, Fox. Despite all the misgivings he had for the Underground leader, he paid well, and was respectful enough of Seido’s autonomy (for the most part). Plus, due to the nature of this job, its pay is based on success, so he’s going to take this seriously.
So as to not attract too much attention, he looked around for an appropriate vantage point with his phone camera, appearing to merely be taking a picture of the sights, and after finding a suitable location, he walks up to his spot and resumes feigning his tourist act. Finally set up, Seido took a moment to think to himself.
With enough luck, this’ll be an in-and-out job... but the way things have been going lately, I somehow doubt that it’ll be that easy. It feels as if Fox’s expansion has led to more and more interlopers, and of course I’m left to clean up the mess. Though it does sometimes get boring to do the same quiet job ad nauseum, it can also be a little tiresome to have interruptions and obstacles.
While nodding to himself on his preferences of job difficulty, almost on cue, he spotted a young kid, being approached by a different, stranger looking man, and after what looked to be a brief exposition by the kid, the pair both began looking around. It wasn’t hard for him to realize that this meant that the two would be the expected “unexpected company” he would be dealing with today.
Barrier Bridge, moments earlier
His bike skidding to a halt by the side of the road, Kamen Rider Volt took a look around him. Foot traffic on the bridge was as expected, people occasionally walking by and gazing over the rivers, and many cars driving by as people went on their daily commute. Business as usual for Los Fortuna, it seemed. However… he was called here for a reason. ‘Ani Oakey’, a kid whom he’d met in the past, had contacted him, telling him to come here for some important reason related to the shady underground of Los Fortuna’s entertainment district. Still, he couldn’t see the kid anywhere in the crowd around him…
“Volt! Over here!” The hushed voice of the kid came from behind him, and Volt turned around to see him, just barely noticing him from the various passersby on the bridge. Underneath the suit, Max let out a small smile seeing the familiar face.
“Ah, here you are! So, Ani, what did you call me here for? The ED’s underground… what information did you gather, and why exactly?” Volt knew the kid was somewhat of a troublemaker, but he couldn’t have caught onto such information had he not gone quite a bit beyond the realm of what a normal kid could do.
“Um...” Ani said, thinking for a bit. “Well… I’m currently helpin’ out some, uh... people who caught onto this, an’ I thought you’d help out, so… well, I guess I should tell you what I need help with, yeah?”
Volt listened to the kid as he explained the full extent to the situation with growing concern. Ani was probably a stand user, but Volt would have to prod further about what he was doing later, since it almost certainly wasn’t good for him. Still, if this bridge was to be used to transport the ED underground’s ringleader… Volt took a few looks around the bridge, thinking… It was likely that someone from their end would be stationed-
“Volt! Look out!” With all of the strength that the 13 year old kid could muster, Ani tackled Volt, pushing him back just as the sound of a gunshot rang through the air, almost hitting the kid.
The bridge went dead silent for a moment. Volt looked at Ani in shock, but he knew better than anyone that he had to act now. “Thanks for the save, Ani - now, come and get on the bike, now!” As the passersby erupted into screams, Volt shouted at Ani, the two of them rushing towards Volt’s ride. From the angle of the shot, the sniper was on top of the bridge - Volt would have to get there as quickly as possible, and drop Ani off along the way before he could.
Moments later
“No way!” Ani shouted emphatically, in response to Volt’s pleas, as the two of them rode on the back of Volt’s bike, trying to make it past the panicking crowds. “Look, you’re in serious danger here, and I need to protect you! Ani, even if you’re a stand user, this is serious!” Volt needed to get a spot where he could safely let Ani get off before heading for the sniper, but…
“I am serious! Look, without my ants keepin’ watch and warnin’ me, that man’d have shot you! I can help, an’ I will help!” Volt looked at Ani for a bit, before sighing and relenting. Time was running out, and the longer they bickered, the more they were in danger. Besides, if Ani was to try and handle it himself after Max left him behind, the sniper would certainly attack him too, no..?
“I can’t convince you otherwise, can I..?” Both of them knew the answer. “Fine. But I’m not letting you do anything too reckless.” Ani nodded in response.
The rest of the trip was certainly not easy - the sniper they’d been up against had kept on attacking them, and as Ani said, his ants certainly did help the two of them, letting them keep watch of all direction and keep better track of the area around them. Furthermore, as they got closer and closer, the sniper began using his stand -
“-Woah!” Volt shouted out, swerving his bike just in time before a flaming bullet flew past him and Ani, just barely managing to stay upright. Whatever stand the sniper had, he had access to a wide variety of bullets in his arsenal, enough so that neither Volt nor Ani were able to properly prepare for what he sent out. Still, they were getting closer - it wasn’t ideal, but riding a bike on the bridge’s arches was a surprisingly effective way of closing the distance, despite how reckless and dangerous it was!
Still, they were getting closer, enough that they could just barely see the sniper in the distance. “Volt! He’s aimin’ at us!” Ani shouted out. That made sense, since he was a sniper and they were trying to get to him and beat him up, but they still probably needed to do something about it.
“Gotcha! Hang on!” Volt shouted out, leaning forwards and pressing on the pedal even harder, the bike speeding up, and making for one hell of a bumpy ride. At the very least this’d make it harder to shoot them, and he could probably create some light to-
BANG!
Another gunshot rang through the air, the bullet flying towards Ani and Volt… and missing entirely, hitting the ground underneath them. They’d managed to evade quite a few bullets before, but the sniper certainly wasn’t an amateur, and had never missed this much… something was up. Soon, they’d realize what exactly it was - Volt’s bike rapidly slowed down, pulled back by some invisible force at a speed so sudden that both of them were tossed off from the bike.
Shit! Looking back for a moment, Volt could see the bike being tossed back, skidding across the surface of the arch. More importantly, he could see Ani right above him, the light kid practically flying in an arc. He had to do something before he got hurt!
Volt flipped around, arms outstretched, catching Ani just as the two hit the ground, and the sound of scraping metal filled the air. Still, he’d done his job and protected Ani - were it not for him, who knew what’d happen to the kid. Ugh… he should’ve been more insistent on not taking him!
Whatever… he couldn’t change what had happened. Ani was here, and they’d have to fight this sniper.
“Volt...” Ani got out of his grasp, getting up off the ground. Volt followed suit. “It’s lookin’ like we’ll have to go the rest of the way on foot, yeah?” Volt looked back, and the bike wasn’t there anymore - it had likely fallen off of the arch, then.
“Yeah… seems like it.”
The Kamen Rider and the kid looked at the sniper far off in the distance. He’d put a wrench in their plans with whatever that bullet of his was, but they could definitely still get to him. They just had to put in a little bit more effort, and then they’d get to him and stop the ED Underground’s plans for good.
OPEN THE GAME!
Location: On top of Barrier Bridge, a steel arch bridge in the Entertainment District. Here are two reference images for the general architecture. An overhead view and a side view
The bridge itself is extremely long, but the area for the match will be more limited to a 160 by 80 meter area visualized here. This area is a top down view, the bridge and water is hundreds of meters below you in the purple and blue tiles respectively. Each tile is 5 by 5 meters.
The teal rectangles are the arches, and the “X”s are the girders supporting the two sides of the arch. The girders are around 2 meters wide and 2 meters tall. The arches have metal stairs that run down the middle of the arches, represented here by the lines. There are guardrails on the sides of the staircases as well. The underside of the arch is also supported by steel pillars every 20 or so meters and matches up roughly with the side view image.
The arrows denote the direction of the slope of the arch, with the area between the arrows being the highest and center point of the arch.
The players are denoted by the yellow and grey circles and the boss is shown with the purple circle. Where the players are standing is just about halfway to the center of the arch while the boss is at the peak/center of the arch.
Due to food crumbs being left out every so often, there are three nests of ants that have made their homes between the metal plates of the arch. For this match they are effectively 1000s of them in each colony. These colony locations are denoted by the purple 6 pointed stars.
Goal: RETIRE your opponents!
Additional Information:
For the purposes of the match, the lower arches (visible on the side view) and the bridge below are not part of the map. Essentially if you are not on the girders, the arches, or otherwise fall off them and cannot or will not make it back up, that will count as a ring out.

Team	Combatant	JoJolity
Underground Rat Exodus	Anthony ‘Ani’ Oakey and Kamen Rider Volt	"See that? That's Morioh's energy! It's all mine! My power!" This entire structure is made of metal, with both of your abilities you should be able to make good use out of it. Use the metal arch and support structures in varied and effective ways!
Path of Four	Seido Shuto	“Someone's going to have to take one of the last four slices” Four is the path your life has set out for you so embrace it as much as you can. Make as many references to the number “4” in your actions and movements in meaningful ways!

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