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Chapter 1 Sc-1:NUTSONOMICS
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NUTSONOMICS chapter-1, scene-1. In a far flung nuttiverse where nuts reigned, an eager young gonnabe investor stood with his calculators sparking as graphs spiked, then dipped as he tripped, then spiked again as he rose. Looking up, he saw the sky bruised purple and gold, and he cried out, yes, yes, yes. Is that the economy rising? Is it a shooting star or my shares shooting through the cosmic Gimme, Gimme, Gimme index? Wait, why is it getting bigger? Why is it in flames, are they tanking? Sell, Sell, Sell. Oh, no, no, no, it’s heading right for us. Quick, step in its way, block it with your superpowers. What do you mean you left them at home, then headbutt it, do something. Wait, is it a meteor? No, it’s an asteroid, wait, oh no. It’s the NUTS&P500, broke again, should have sold high. Gimme, gimme, gimme. Yeah, yeah, we heard you. Never mind, pick up your lip, dust off the tears, and don’t drop it next time. Wall Street Martian Branch, 00:59 hours. As the first bursts of gamma rays pinballed off the morning’s rise, ricocheting into the setting sun, what was about to unfold was, frankly, strange. It all started over a dark, rich, steaming mug of nutscafe chocolate. The Martian market had barely recovered from last quarter’s financial fiasco. Suddenly, a tremor rippled across its crypto sky. It was carried not by winds nor by trading, but by the clanking of wings. It’s a cloud. Wooooooooooo, the high-spirited nuttybunctious, intern celebrated, saying, woo, a real cloud. Now I have truly lived. It’s politics. Oh, woo. The highly strung, overworked, underpaid 99.9% of the cosmos telepathically grown in one loud collective thought. Oh, my nuts, feathers. Another NUTSONOMIC coup d’état. Nope, it’s pigeons. Yeaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaah. Erupted from the young traders and the rest of the cosmos who had gathered outside the darkening Nutexchange, the sky abruptly dimmed under the shadow of millions of delivery pigeons, 2.0. They circled the Wall Street Mars branch in a perfect upward trend formation, cooing like broken credit alerts. Each pigeon had been trained to drop micro contracts on target. Every splat was a legal settlement. Today they had stopped. Who forgot to charge the mic? I’ll be back. This is Hot Mic Moment. Beeeeeeeeeeeep. Flip. Did you hear that beep? Zippy asked, was it a beep bug or a top secret squirrel, hush, hush, codename, Lady Bird Inc? He adjusted his hat tilting visor. Lady Bird Inc. with her own fashion statement, jewelry fractions in 57 facets of ding, ding, click, ka-ching, bling. Privately held share values that love traversing the troposphere, stratosphere, mesosphere, thermosphere. On its way up to Lady Bird Inc. Peeping up at the exosphere. Who will have her own genre decology series via the Intergalactic Mars, got talent top secret squirrel agent Golden buzzer, that Lady Bird Inc? Yep, Lady Bird Inc. herself. It must be a mission critical failure. Top secret I cannot tell you message, flip declared. What’s the cause? It’s elementary, my dear Zippy. I don’t know. But if I was to guess which I am good at, I’d say someone’s making money from the pigeons pause. Zippy’s whiskers perked. Asssssssshh, old someone heard about him. Must have read the signs? A billboard sign blazed across the plaza. Hot tip of the day. Short, the pigeon poop. Every trader wore a gleaming pooping hat 9,000. The signature contract catching bucket. But now with pigeons on strike, the hat stayed spotless. Spotless, meant worthless. Ping, ping, ping. Professor Big Yield joins the chaos. This is Professor B and welcome to podcast, Gimme, Gimme. Gimme 101. Pull that video up. It’s my favorite. Whoever saw this coming just made a sneaky fortune. But a fortune nevertheless, he paused. My pigeon hat 9,000 is so clean, I can see my student loan trauma in it. Ping, ping, ping. The professor shifted tone. Now listen, my eager Gimme Gimme’s short selling isn’t just a sign of a shaky market. Oh no, no, no. It’s a pillar of price discovery. He cleared his throat. Short selling makes sure real information, good or bad, gets into prices fast. Without it, markets creep upward on hype, drifting like overinflated nut balloons. A jingle, oh my nuts. Short selling also improves market liquidity, narrower bid-ask spreads, smoother transactions, happier nuts, another jingle burst, confetti ping’s popping. And for you early birds, big 101, shorting for snack survival, only three nuts per term, first nut discounted for borrowers, podcast cuts out, flip blinked. Did you hear that short, zippy flipped a pooping hat 9,000 upside down? Easy, you borrow hats, you sell them while everyone thinks pigeons will poop forever. Then when no poop comes, the price drops, you buy the hats back cheap. That’s shorting in a nutshell. The plaza erupted into chaos, but flip’s visor pinged again. Zippy, deeper instability detected, something bigger is cracking under the market floor. Pong, pong, pong. Don’t trip, don’t flip, wait for it. It’s hot mic moments. Well, who would have thought folks, it was just as beeeeeeeep!!! Mouse!

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