That was for the non-retirees.
Remember, lads, just like Andrew Jackson, no one retires until central banking is dead.
The Reformation of money continues apace.
Release the memes… 
The only time I’ve ever bought and price went up.
I bought so it’s time for the price to dump.
I might as well be in Vegas. We have tons of casinos.
I tire of Oklahoma gas station parking lots smelling like swisher sweets and weed.
GM. Rise before the sun.
Don’t we have to take down ETH before we take down the dollar?
Average Christian here and I’d say this is the average Christian influencer position. The average Christians comment their disdain below.
GM. My nasal and chest congestion is finally breaking up and the scenes are horrific.
I don’t own #MSTR and I’m still gonna make it.
Every time I visit my father’s hometown, though he still lives, I cannot help but think how I might honor him in his eulogy. There are a great many men he has influenced and temporarily fathered. It’s a weighty thing to consider and I don’t find it wrong to do so as I hope he lives 62 more years to add to his current 62 years.
Summertime Sonnet by Dillon Hamilton
The moving months of Spring make way for still,
The far-off Winter star comes close to rule,
Your day-to-day and how much sweat you spill,
He governs all things well except the cool,
Should he prove a tyrant over our lands,
Make our first appeal to King of Heaven,
To win from Him our shade in cotton bands,
To fill our streams as lumps with live leaven,
Rest not in coolness cast by fickle men,
Its temper is uneven like a star,
They swing the dull and rusted sickle, sin,
And take you as the bruised reed that you are,
Beg not that those Spring moving months return,
Beg not for less than all you’re meant to learn.
The sun in the forest. #IvanShishkin #art 
Might as well Kipling-poast while I wait around.
The Last Department
Twelve hundred million men are spread
About this Earth, and I and You
Wonder, when You and I are dead,
"What will those luckless millions do?"
"None whole or clean," we cry, "or free from stain
Of favour." Wait awhile, till we attain
The Last Department where nor fraud nor fools,
Nor grade nor greed, shall trouble us again.
Fear, Favour, or Affection–what are these
To the grim Head who claims our services?
I never knew a wife or interest yet
Delay that pukka step, miscalled "decease";
When leave, long overdue, none can deny;
When idleness of all Eternity
Becomes our furlough, and the marigold
Our thriftless, bullion-minting Treasury.
Transferred to the Eternal Settlement,
Each in his strait, wood-scantled office pent,
No longer Brown reverses Smith's appeals,
Or Jones records his Minute of Dissent.
And One, long since a pillar of the Court,
As mud between the beams thereof is wrought;
And One who wrote on phosphates for the crops
Is subject-matter of his own Report.
These be the glorious ends whereto we pass–
Let Him who Is, go call on Him who Was;
And He shall see the mallie steals the slab
For currie-grinder, and for goats the grass.
A breath of wind, a Border bullet's flight,
A draught of water, or a horse's fright–
The droning of the fat Sheristadar
Ceases, the punkah stops, and falls the night
For you or Me. Do those who live decline
The step that offers, or their work resign?
Trust me, To-day's Most Indispensables,
Five hundred men can take your place or mine.