Pre-Market Briefing: Skittish Futures and CPI Napalm, June 11, 2025, 5:56 AM EDT
Dispatches from The Last Sane Bastard in This Casino
Well, strap in, you wretched market vultures—KingCAMBO’s unleashing a vicious, napalm-drenched screed from the fortified compound at 5:56 AM! The June e-mini futures are looking skittish, though they haven’t twisted their knickers into a knot just yet: Dow (YM) -59, S&P (ES) -8.0, Nasdaq (NQ) -24.00, and the VIX is loitering at 16.99. One colossal nothing burger for now—call it the pre-dawn snooze before the storm! But brace yourselves, you degenerates, because the MOAB of macro is dropping today: CPI data hits the tape at 8:30 AM, followed by a $39 billion 10-year Treasury auction at 1 PM, where they’ll shove more IOUs down our throats. Either could ignite a Bullwinkle rage or another Bullwinkle folly—grab your drinking game cards and take a damn pew!
Earnings Fireworks (or Fizzle)
Yesterday’s earnings from CrowdStrike, Broadcom, and Dollar Tree through Thursday might just rock this joint—for good or ill. Will they spark a rally or torch the tape? Place your bets, you gambling fools, or we’re all getting drunk until Friday’s macro madness!
Shitcoin’s Bullish Linger
BTC spot is printing $109,600, lingering like a stubborn hangover overnight, still in bull compression according to my dope—coiled and ready to strike! I still maintain my “short-termish” upside target at $116,313.22 and downside at $98,504.80. Want a deeper dive into my 2025 BTC prophecies? Devour the full Monty at Beavis, Butthead, and Bitcoin: A Gonzo Ride to $236,887 or Bust—it’s a wild, unhinged romp through the crypto jungle. New feature at the Fear and Loathing trading fortress: intraday BTC targets each morning! Based on current overnight ranges, today’s resistance levels are:
• $110,250.25
• $110,420.08
• $110,759.74
• $111,099.39
If these get torched, I’ll reboot my Flux Capacitor and calibrate higher targets. Will it moon or crash? Stock up on barf buckets, you crypto clowns!
Stocks: The Pre-Market Slaughterhouse
Let’s rip these bastards apart, you bloodthirsty hyenas. Check the finance charts to follow for the latest: Intel (INTC) at $21.96, up +0.1% from $21.88—teetering on a comeback, but shaky as hell.
GitLab (GTLB) at $42.15, down -12.3% from $48.51—post-earnings bloodbath, you masochists!
Tesla (TSLA) at $332,90 +2.3% from $326.09—revving up, but watch that Musk madness!
GameStop (GME) at $28.75, -4.6% from $30.15—meme stock blues hitting hard.
iShares 20+ Year Treasury Bond ETF (TLT) at $85.40, -0.6% from $85.88—bonds bracing for that auction smackdown.
Market Movers: CPI and Auction Armageddon
This pre-market’s a tinderbox—CPI at 8:30 AM could jolt us awake or lull us back to sleep, while that $39 billion 10-year auction at 1 PM might spike yields or sink us deeper. Earnings from yesterday’s trio could flip the script, but the VIX at 16.99 is a smug tease—volatility’s lurking, you fools!
Engage with My Madness, You Spineless Wretches!
Crave more of my unhinged rants? I dare you to follow my intraday inane drivel and sporadic brain droppings on My Fucking Notes —they’re short, savage, and will punch you in the face harder than this skittish tape, you gutless pikers! Smash that follow button and dive into the fire!
Join the High Rollers, You Cheap Bastards!
Tired of this macro mess frying your nerves? Sign up for my 7-day free trial to the paid service for just $5 a month after that. It’s cheaper than your overpriced whiskey and hits like a goddamn sledgehammer. Get the real, savage insights you need to dominate at kingcambo812.substack.com. Big-time high rollers only—don’t waste my time!
Final Word
This pre-market’s a tinderbox—survive the CPI and auction maelstrom, or chug that anesthesia. I am KingCAMBO, smoke ‘em if ya got ‘em, and that’s how I ROLL on this pre-market napalm!
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.