BUDS

BROKE UNEMPLOYED DEGENERATES (aka anyone reading this)

BUDS = Broke. Unemployed. Degenerates. if you're reading this, congrats — you already qualify. no job, no plan, no cold-storage bitcoin. just a phone at 1% battery and a dream that prints.

nobody here clocks in. we clock IN to the trenches. alarm goes off, we don't go to work, we go to war — against the chart, against the rent, against the little voice that says “maybe get a real job.” that voice has never been so wrong.

we don't “invest,” we send it. we don't “do research,” we read the ticker and feel a vibe. our portfolio is held together with conviction and ramen. our financial advisor is a frog. our exit strategy is a vibe shift.

they laughed at us in the group chat. they said “you need a plan B.” we don't even have a plan A. we have each other, a chart that only goes up if you believe hard enough, and a shared refusal to ever, under any circumstances, get a job.