🔥 Elon Musk’s SILVER Mania... ⌾ Oct 7, 2024

Elon Musk To Push Silver To $125/oz.? [Logo ]( [[icon]About Us]( A Sponsored Message From Goldco Elon Musk To Push Silver To $125/oz.? --------------------------------------------------------------- [Book]( It's been reported that Elon Musk could buy a silver mine to supply Tesla and SpaceX with the massive amounts of silver they need to survive. Rumors have been swirling that Tesla and SpaceX are desperate for silver. Elon Musk even announced in May 2022 that Tesla would be looking into the mining industry to boost and control their own supply. Musk also considered a 10-20% stake in the Swiss mining company Glencore. Here's the thing… Electric vehicles, solar panels, smart phones, and more are driving the need for silver. Everything that encompasses the "clean energy" transition needs silver. We are now at a point where the 'clean energy' sector is looking to take matters into their own hands, because… "There is insufficient available physical silver, which hinders production." There was even an article back in March 2023 that stated… "Silver mines will likely be bought by automakers like Tesla, silver to $125 per ounce" So, does it make sense to get in on silver BEFORE Elon's silver mania potentially hits? Right now thousands of Americans are diversifying with precious metals like gold and silver, and you can too with a free copy of the groundbreaking Gold & Silver Kit. [Yes, Send Me My Free Gold & Silver Kit NOW.]( In this 36-page kit that thousands of Americans are using to diversify their wealth, you'll learn… - The devastating impact the 'dark tax' is having on your savings right now - The shocking amount of value the dollar has lost against gold. - The impressive, untold tale of silver as a store of value. - What you don't know about gold and silver's unfathomable run against the dollar. - Why a Federal Reserve insider said the "Lost Decade" ahead could be the biggest economic shock of our country's history. - Plus, how you can get started with Gold & Silver today using a unique "IRS Loophole" that is tax and penalty free (but could be reversed soon). Not only will you get a FREE digital and physical copy of this retirement-saving guide, but you'll also get [the free audio and video version](. But wait, there's more… Take action today, and you'll learn about how you could qualify for up to [$10,000 in BONUS SILVER.]( But supplies are limited and it's first come, first served, so don't wait. This is your chance to get ahead and protect everything you've worked for! [books]( [⇒Send Me This Free Gold & Silver Kit Today!]( P.S. You can diversify your savings with precious metals like gold and silver today. Get your hands on this [FREE Gold & Silver Kit]( before Elon's potential silver mania strikes. Dorian Gray glanced at the picture, and suddenly an uncontrollable feeling of hatred for Basil Hallward came over him, as though it had been suggested to him by the image on the canvas, whispered into his ear by those grinning lips. The mad passions of a hunted animal stirred within him, and he loathed the man who was seated at the table, more than in his whole life he had ever loathed anything. He glanced wildly around. Something glimmered on the top of the painted chest that faced him. His eye fell on it. He knew what it was. It was a knife that he had brought up, some days before, to cut a piece of cord, and had forgotten to take away with him. He moved slowly towards it, passing Hallward as he did so. As soon as he got behind him, he seized it and turned round. Hallward stirred in his chair as if he was going to rise. He rushed at him and dug the knife into the great vein that is behind the ear, crushing the man’s head down on the table and stabbing again and again. There was a stifled groan and the horrible sound of some one choking with blood. Three times the outstretched arms shot up convulsively, waving grotesque, stiff-fingered hands in the air. He stabbed him twice more, but the man did not move. Something began to trickle on the floor. He waited for a moment, still pressing the head down. Then he threw the knife on the table, and listened. He could hear nothing, but the drip, drip on the threadbare carpet. He opened the door and went out on the landing. The house was absolutely quiet. No one was about. For a few seconds he stood bending over the balustrade and peering down into the black seething well of darkness. Then he took out the key and returned to the room, locking himself in as he did so. The thing was still seated in the chair, straining over the table with bowed head, and humped back, and long fantastic arms. Had it not been for the red jagged tear in the neck and the clotted black pool that was slowly widening on the table, one would have said that the man was simply asleep. How quickly it had all been done! He felt strangely calm, and walking over to the window, opened it and stepped out on the balcony. The wind had blown the fog away, and the sky was like a monstrous peacock’s tail, starred with myriads of golden eyes. He looked down and saw the policeman going his rounds and flashing the long beam of his lantern on the doors of the silent houses. The crimson spot of a prowling hansom gleamed at the corner and then vanished. A woman in a fluttering shawl was creeping slowly by the railings, staggering as she went. Now and then she stopped and peered back. Once, she began to sing in a hoarse voice. The policeman strolled over and said something to her. She stumbled away, laughing. A bitter blast swept across the square. The gas-lamps flickered and became blue, and the leafless trees shook their black iron branches to and fro. He shivered and went back, closing the window behind him. Dorian Gray glanced at the picture, and suddenly an uncontrollable feeling of hatred for Basil Hallward came over him, as though it had been suggested to him by the image on the canvas, whispered into his ear by those grinning lips. The mad passions of a hunted animal stirred within him, and he loathed the man who was seated at the table, more than in his whole life he had ever loathed anything. He glanced wildly around. Something glimmered on the top of the painted chest that faced him. His eye fell on it. He knew what it was. It was a knife that he had brought up, some days before, to cut a piece of cord, and had forgotten to take away with him. He moved slowly towards it, passing Hallward as he did so. As soon as he got behind him, he seized it and turned round. Hallward stirred in his chair as if he was going to rise. He rushed at him and dug the knife into the great vein that is behind the ear, crushing the man’s head down on the table and stabbing again and again. There was a stifled groan and the horrible sound of some one choking with blood. Three times the outstretched arms shot up convulsively, waving grotesque, stiff-fingered hands in the air. He stabbed him twice more, but the man did not move. Something began to trickle on the floor. He waited for a moment, still pressing the head down. Then he threw the knife on the table, and listened. He could hear nothing, but the drip, drip on the threadbare carpet. He opened the door and went out on the landing. The house was absolutely quiet. No one was about. For a few seconds he stood bending over the balustrade and peering down into the black seething well of darkness. Then he took out the key and returned to the room, locking himself in as he did so. The thing was still seated in the chair, straining over the table with bowed head, and humped back, and long fantastic arms. Had it not been for the red jagged tear in the neck and the clotted black pool that was slowly widening on the table, one would have said that the man was simply asleep. How quickly it had all been done! He felt strangely calm, and walking over to the window, opened it and stepped out on the balcony. The wind had blown the fog away, and the sky was like a monstrous peacock’s tail, starred with myriads of golden eyes. He looked down and saw the policeman going his rounds and flashing the long beam of his lantern on the doors of the silent houses. The crimson spot of a prowling hansom gleamed at the corner and then vanished. A woman in a fluttering shawl was creeping slowly by the railings, staggering as she went. Now and then she stopped and peered back. Once, she began to sing in a hoarse voice. The policeman strolled over and said something to her. She stumbled away, laughing. A bitter blast swept across the square. The gas-lamps flickered and became blue, and the leafless trees shook their black iron branches to and fro. He shivered and went back, closing the window behind him. 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