$333 down to a mere $0.42…, AMC is Not Our First Rodeo

Holding Through the Storm: Lessons from a 100% AMC HODLer

By Larry Chiang

As I sit here reflecting on the wild ride that has been my investment in AMC Entertainment Holdings, Inc., I can’t help but draw parallels to the harrowing tale shared by Michael Saylor in that viral clip from The Bitcoin Therapist. Saylor recounts how MicroStrategy’s stock plummeted a staggering 99.8% from its peak of $333 down to a mere $0.42 during the dot-com bust of 2000-2002. He survived as CEO while 99% of his peers in the tech space got wiped out or jumped ship. It’s a story of grit, conviction, and the sheer audacity to hold on when the world is screaming “sell.” And let me tell you, as someone who’s held 100% of my AMC shares since January 28, 2021—the height of the meme stock frenzy—I’ve lived through my own version of that brutal slide. If Saylor’s experience is a masterclass in enduring corporate volatility, mine is a frontline dispatch from the trenches of retail investor warfare, where diamond hands aren’t just a meme; they’re a survival strategy.

Let’s rewind to that fateful day in late January 2021. AMC was the darling of the WallStreetBets crowd, a symbol of rebellion against the hedge funds that had shorted it into oblivion. I bought in at the peak of the hype, watching the stock surge on waves of retail enthusiasm, social media buzz, and a collective thumb in the eye of institutional shorts like Citadel and Melvin Capital. But peaks are fleeting, and what followed was a slide that would test the mettle of even the most battle-hardened investor. From its all-time high around $20 (split-adjusted, but you know the real frenzy numbers), AMC cratered repeatedly—down 80%, 90%, even touching lows that made it feel like the company was on life support. Dilution after dilution, reverse splits, endless FUD (fear, uncertainty, doubt) from the media, and a pandemic that hammered the theater industry harder than a bad sequel. Yet here I am, four years later, still holding every single share. Why? Because, like Saylor, I’ve learned that true value isn’t in the short-term charts; it’s in the long-term vision and the resilience to weather the storm.

Saylor’s MicroStrategy saga resonates with me on a visceral level. Back in the early 2000s, his company was a poster child for the internet boom, only to become a cautionary tale when the bubble burst. Accounting scandals, market crashes, and relentless selling pressure could have ended him. But he didn’t fold. He pivoted, rebuilt, and eventually bet the farm on Bitcoin, turning MicroStrategy into a de facto Bitcoin treasury company. That 99.8% drop? It wasn’t the end—it was the forge that tempered his resolve. Similarly, my AMC journey has been a rollercoaster of epic proportions. Post-2021, the stock endured multiple death spirals: the 2022 bear market that saw it drop over 95% from its highs, ongoing debt restructurings, and constant narratives of impending bankruptcy. Critics called us “bagholders,” laughed at our “cult-like” devotion, and predicted total wipeout. But holding through that slide taught me invaluable lessons about market psychology, corporate survival, and the power of community-driven conviction.

First, there’s the art of ignoring the noise. In Saylor’s era, it was financial analysts and boardroom pressures burying him. For me, it’s been a barrage of short-seller reports, CNBC talking heads, and Twitter trolls proclaiming AMC’s demise. I’ve seen “experts” declare the end of movie theaters in a streaming world, just as they once dismissed Bitcoin as a tulip bubble. But holding 100% means tuning out the FOMO and the panic. It’s about believing in the underlying asset—AMC’s vast network of screens, its pivot to premium experiences like IMAX and dine-in theaters, and the timeless appeal of communal entertainment. The pandemic slide was brutal, but it also forced innovation: NFT drops, popcorn deliveries, even crypto payments. Like MicroStrategy emerging stronger post-bust, AMC has clawed back, paying down debt and expanding globally. My shares? Still intact, because I saw the slide not as a signal to exit, but as a discount to double down on faith.

Second, endurance builds character—and empires. Saylor notes that 99% of CEOs didn’t survive their companies’ crashes. In the meme stock world, I’d wager a similar attrition rate among early holders. Many bought high, sold low, or got margin-called into oblivion. But those of us who held? We’ve become a hardened cadre, akin to Bitcoin HODLers who laughed off 80% drawdowns. Since January 28, 2021, I’ve watched AMC’s market cap swing billions in a day, endured halts, and stared down squeezes that fizzled. It’s a similar slide to Saylor’s: not just financial, but emotional. The doubt creeps in— “What if they’re right? What if this is Enron 2.0?”—but conviction wins. I’ve held through it all because AMC isn’t just a stock; it’s a bet on cultural revival, on people craving escapism in a post-COVID world. And like Saylor’s pivot to Bitcoin, AMC’s leadership under Adam Aron has been audacious—raising capital creatively, engaging shareholders directly via social media, and turning a near-bankrupt chain into a meme icon with real revenue growth.

Of course, no essay on holding would be complete without addressing the critics. To the day traders who bail at a 5% dip, as The Bitcoin Therapist mocks, you haven’t lived through anything. A true slide—like MicroStrategy’s or AMC’s—separates the tourists from the titans. It’s easy to HODL in a bull market; the real test is when your portfolio is a sea of red, and every headline screams capitulation. I’ve been called delusional, a gambler, even a conspiracy theorist for believing in the “short squeeze” thesis. But history favors the steadfast. Saylor’s MicroStrategy is now up thousands of percent from its lows, powered by Bitcoin’s ascent. AMC? While not at moon levels yet, it’s survived what should have been extinction events, with box office rebounds from blockbusters like *Barbie* and *Oppenheimer* proving the thesis. Holding 100% since ’21 has meant missing out on quick flips, but it’s also meant aligning with a movement that’s bigger than any one trade.

In closing, Michael Saylor’s story isn’t just about surviving a 99.8% crash—it’s about thriving beyond it. As a proud AMC ape who’s ridden a similar slide without flinching, I echo his sentiment: True wealth isn’t made in comfort zones. It’s forged in the fires of volatility, where the weak hands fold and the diamond ones endure. If you’re reading this and thinking of selling at the next dip, remember: I’ve held through hell and back. And I’m still here, betting on the comeback. HODL on.

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