The financial world is still reeling from the "Chimaek Summit," a seemingly innocent dinner that cost one unfortunate short seller, skilliard7, nearly half a million dollars. His tragic mistake was applying cold, hard economics to a market ruled by meme stocks and the insatiable global hunger for golden-brown crispy chicken.

Mr. Short's investment thesis was a model of rational analysis. He argued that with South Korea’s declining population and a noticeable trend toward healthier, vegan diets, the fried chicken industry was a prime target for a short sale. It was a logical, long-term bet against saturated fat. Unfortunately for him, he failed to account for a far more powerful, unpredictable variable: the sheer, viral gravitas of Nvidia CEO Jensen Huang.

Huang, the man whose chips power the future of humanity, didn't just order a basket of chicken; he bestowed upon it the "Midas Touch of AI." This was no ordinary meal; it became an instant, unscheduled fundamental re-evaluation of the entire poultry sector. The photos of the "Chimaek Summit" went viral, investors threw out their market models. The market immediately concluded that if the three most important men in global tech were gathered over fried chicken, then the chicken itself was clearly a strategic national asset.

The New, Absurd Fundamentals

The moment photos of the "All Bills Paid" dinner hit social media, Mr. Short's meticulously researched fundamentals were tossed into the deep fryer. The market’s new, irrational logic became undeniably dominant: if Silicon Valley runs on coffee, the next generation of Korean AI engineers must, logically, run on the unparalleled power of soy garlic glaze.

A Lesson Deep-Fried in Grief

In less than 24 hours, the unexpected market enthusiasm caused Korean chicken stocks to surge by up to 30%, triggering a margin call that instantly wiped out skilliard7’s entire $472,085 position. His perfectly rational bet against human health was completely demolished by the simple, unpredictable fact that three powerful, wealthy men just wanted some beer and a spicy snack.

Mr. Short’s ruined portfolio now serves as a cautionary tale: Never short a stock that could be accidentally boosted by the casual dining choices of a tech deity. His loss is now officially considered the "world's most expensive appetizer," a permanent scar on the annals of finance and a testament to the random, beautiful absurdity of the meme-driven market. The ultimate punchline remains his mournful question: "How could I have not known that Korean fried chicken is the future of artificial intelligence?" The answer, of course, is that now we all know.