Post Market Wrap: Joy in Pikerville, June 12, 2025, 8:17 PM EDT
Dispatches from The Last Sane Bastard in This Casino
Well, strap in, you deranged market fiends—KingCAMBO’s blasting out a vicious, tequila-soaked screed from the fortified compound at 8:17 PM! There’s joy in Pikerville tonight—for now, you greedy bastards. What started as a downright FUGLY pre-market shitshow morphed into a full-blown Bullwinkle rave, with everything green and closing green. Hallelujah, you pikers! The tape sang its praises: Dow +181, SPX +22.96, NDX +52.50, and the VIX hovering at a smug 18.02. Joy in Pikerville—until the hopium wears off tomorrow and the bats start circling like vultures on a carcass!
But don’t get too cozy—stonks only go up, right? Tell that to Shitcoin…
BTC’s Brutal Beatdown
Bitcoin is limping at $103,879.50 in after-hours, getting pounded like a rented mule all day and now taking a post-session drop-kick to the ball-sack for good measure. Why? I haven’t a fucking clue—maybe the crypto gods are drunk again. So, there’s that then… My “short-termish” targets still stand:
Upside target: $116,313.22
Downside risk: $98,504.80**
Crave the full gonzo prophecy for 2025? Rip into Beavis, Butthead, and Bitcoin: A Gonzo Ride to $236,887 or Bust—a wild-ass romp through the crypto jungle that’ll leave you howling.
Stocks: The Green Frenzy
Let’s tear into the winners, you bloodthirsty hyenas:
GME at $22.14—down over 21% today from $28.55, a brutal smackdown with no mercy, not clinging to jack shit!
NVDA at $145.00—chip king riding the AI wave, steady as hell.
TSLA at $319.11—Elon’s beast bouncing back, but watch that volatility!
NEM at $55.92—gold miner gleaming, holding firm today.
SPY at $603.75—broad market flexing, green and proud.
These tickers are your battle scars—trade ‘em if you’ve got the guts!
Market Movers: Rave or Ruin
Today’s Bullwinkle party flipped the script—PPI and Jobs Data vibes kept the tape buzzing, but tomorrow’s session could torch this hopium high. Get drunk and stay drunk, you degenerates—survive without your poison of choice, and you’re a legend!
Engage, You Filthy Pikers!
Crave my unhinged rants? Dive into my intraday inane drivel and sporadic brain droppings at My Fucking Notes —short, brutal, and smacking you in the face harder than this wild tape, you gutless wonders! Follow, comment, or lurk like the degenerate you are!
Join the High Rollers, You Cheap Bastards!
Tired of this market rollercoaster frying your soul? Grab a 7-day free trial to my paid service for $5 a month—cheaper than your overpriced whisky and packing a savage punch. Dominate the chaos at kingcambo812.substack.com. High rollers only—don’t waste my time!
Final Word
Joy in Pikerville tonight—for some. Ride the wave or bleed with GME.
I am KingCAMBO, smoke ‘em if ya got ‘em, and that’s how I ROLL on this Post Market Wrap!
King Cambo’s Fear and Loathing “Legal” Disclaimer: Alright, buckle up, you madcap truth-seekers, ‘cause I’m about to sling this disclaimer straight from the edge of a neon-drenched abyss, for you magnificent bastards, with a belly full of cheap whiskey and a mind like a chrome-plated slot machine spitting sparks. This ain’t no polite suggestion to buy or sell stocks, securities, or any of that Wall Street bullshit—it’s just my raw, unfiltered brain-droppings, spewed out like a busted fire hydrant. I’m a walking financial disaster, hemorrhaging cash on trades and investments like a gambler on a three-day bender. I might snatch up any stock I yap about here or dump it faster than a getaway car at a bank heist, and I won’t send you a postcard about it. This ain’t a pitch to buy or sell jack shit! I might own the names I’m ranting about, or I might not—could be bullish and empty-handed, bearish with a fistful of shares. Hell, assume I’m playing the exact opposite game you think, just to keep you on your toes. If I’m long, I could flip short before the ink dries; if I’m short, I might go long by lunch. No updates, no apologies—my positions shift like desert sands in a sandstorm. You’re out here in the wilds, solo, so don’t you dare lean on my blog for your big money moves. I’m a fringe-dweller, howling at the moon, and the publisher ain’t vouching for the half-cocked “facts” I sling. These ain’t the opinions of my bosses, buddies, or anyone else dumb enough to know me. I do my damndest to keep my disclosures straight, but I’m scribbling this after a few beers, maybe a shot of mezcal, so don’t bet your ranch on my accuracy. I tweak my posts after they’re live ‘cause I’m an impatient bastard, too lazy to proofread. Spot a typo? Come back in 30 minutes, it might be gone—or worse. And let’s get one thing crystal: I fuck up. “I fuck up a lot.” I’m saying it twice ‘cause it’s the only gospel I’ve got. Now go, you beautiful lunatics, and don’t blame me when the market chews you up and spits you out.