Crypto Bro Quotes

YouTube also contains a treasure trove of lectures by nearly all of finance’s leading lights, strewn throughout its vast wasteland of misinformation. Tread carefully. A few wrong clicks and you’ll wind up with a QAnon conspiracist or a crypto bro. Of the names I’ve mentioned in this book, I’d search for John Bogle, Eugene Fama, Kenneth French, Jonathan Clements, Zvi Bodie, William Sharpe, Burton Malkiel, Charles Ellis, and Jason Zweig. Worthwhile finance podcasts abound. Start with the Economist’s weekly “Money Talks” and NPR’s Planet Money, although most of the latter’s superb coverage revolves around economics and relatively little around investing. Rick Ferri’s Boglehead podcast interviews cover mainly passive investing. Another financial podcast I highly recommend is Barry Ritholtz’s Masters in Business from Bloomberg. Podcasts are a rapidly evolving area. Lest you wear your ears out, you’ll need discretion to curate the burgeoning amount of high-quality audio. Research mutual funds. All the fund companies discussed in this book have sophisticated websites from which basic fund facts, such as fees and expenses, can be obtained, as well as annual and semiannual reports that list and tabulate holdings. If you’re researching a large number of funds, this gets cumbersome. The best way is to visit Morningstar.com. Use the site’s search function to locate the main page for the fund you’re interested in and click the “Expense” and “Portfolio” tabs to find the fund expense ratio and detailed data on the fund holdings. Click the “Performance” tab to see the fund’s return over periods ranging from a single day up to 15 years, and the “Chart” tab to compare the returns of multiple funds over a given interval. ***

WhatsApp: +1 (443) 859 - 2886 Email @ digitaltechguard.com Telegram: digitaltechguard.com Website link: digitaltechguard.com The scent of freshly brewed espresso and vintage Led Zeppelin records should have been my retirement anthem. But I was hunched over a computer in my still-under-construction vinyl record cafe, screaming at a blockchain explorer as if it just ridiculed my acoustic session. My life savings, $430,000 worth of Bitcoin, carefully earned over a decade of writing alt-rock ballads for car commercials, vanished into thin air. The culprit? Some smooth "investment manager" who'd promised me "Taylor Swift-level returns" on crypto staking, then bailed faster than my band's 2008 reunion tour.  The scam was a cringe symphony.Guy had a LinkedIn profile dotted with adjectives such as "Web3 maestro" and "DeFi virtuoso," an autotuned elevator jazz playing website, and a contractual loophole big enough to drive a tour bus through. I signed over access like a groupie handing over backstage passes. Poof. Gone. Money. My café's espresso machine sat in its box, accusatorially. My spouse said I needed to "get a real job again." Even my dog gave me the side eye. Enter my drummer, Chad, a guy who had escaped a festival pyro tragedy by jumping into a kiddie pool. He texted me: "Bro, look at Digital Tech Guard Recovery. They're crypto Roadies." I pictured a group of pierced hackers in black hoodies, blowing gum and cracking firewalls. Good enough. Digitals crew followed the scambot's trail with the ferocity of a producer hunting for the perfect bassline. The crook had routed my Bitcoin through privacy coins, obscured wallets, and exchanges located in countries that I couldn't spell. Their engineers stalked his path like a creep watching a pop star's concert tour schedule, in cooperation with Interpol and a Cypriot bank used also as a hub for meme stocks. As it turns out, my "maestro" had become careless, stashing money in a wallet associated with a failed NFT venture named "Aping for Jesus." Typical. Sixteen days later, my wallet beeped. Balance returned. No taunting, only a curt email: "Scammer's assets frozen. Your money's back. Buy better speakers." I blasted "Eye of the Tiger" through the café sound system, shocking a hipster with oat milk. The espresso machine finally came online. Digital Tech Guard Recovery didn't just restore my cryptocurrency; they wrote the encore for my midlife crisis. My café exists today, littered with grail-worthy records on the walls and a tip cup emblazoned "ETH accepted." Chad's no longer on the espresso machine, but he's got free coffee for life. If your cryptocurrency is ever swindled by a cyber rockstar, don't go into existential tailspin. Call the Digitals. They'll turn your faceplant into a victory lap. Just maybe screen your "maestros" harder than your band's setlist.