Doctor Profit’s $115K Apocalypse: Laugh or Get Liquidated! 😱🚀

The sky cracked open above the exchange floor, and the great Bitcoin beast-poor, hungry, eternally restless-stumbled from $118,000 down to $115,193.
A three-percent wound, yet Doctor Profit stands there like an old sailor who smelled the storm hours ago, grinning through nicotine-stained teeth:
“I told you so, brothers!”
His crystal ball, polished with cynicism and caffeine, foretold this dip. Meanwhile the rest of us clutch our cold wallets like orphans clutching bread crusts. 😏

Now the coin lies gasping between two trenches: buyers howl for glory on the left, sellers hawk their doom on the right. Every tick on the chart is a bayonet thrust. The line is scratched at $116,000.
Will the beast leap over or roll in the dirt again? Doctor Profit shrugs: “Break it or bury it, lads-it’s the same circus, new clowns.”

The September Gallows Laugh Back

Eight falls out of twelve, history has kicked Bitcoin down the stairwell in September. Average bruise: minus 3.77 %. The month itself grins like a toothless hangman:
“Come, child, let me weigh your dreams in red candle wax.”
Doctor Profit lights another cigarette and nods. “Red month ahead, folks; pack your umbrellas-and your short positions.” 🌧️📉

Doctor Profit’s Cunning (and Cynical) Playbook

  1. Dance on the peaks: short every time the price flirts with the top of its narrow cage.
  2. Feast in the pit: buy when the blood is ankle-deep and the plebs are weeping.
  3. Wash, rinse, repeat: until September ends or until your nerves do-whichever comes first.

His final advice, delivered with theatrical pity: “Sell today so you can brag tomorrow. The lower we go, the fatter we grow.”
Somewhere in the corner, Jerome Powell’s printer yawns. 😴💸

Trump, Zelensky, Powell & Other Fireworks

This week the macro circus sets up tents: Trump-Zelensky handshakes, FOMC minutes dripping with suspense, jobless claims tap-dancing on the economy’s grave, Jerome Powell taking the stage with the solemnity of an undertaker at his own wedding.
Doctor Profit watches from the wings, chewing gum that tastes of volatility.
“Let the clowns speak; we’ll trade the echo.”
And the Bitcoin beast-bleeding, bruised, yet grinning-waits for the next drumroll.
Stay hungry, comrades. Stay human. Stay liquid. 😂🍻

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2025-08-18 10:08