The air smells of silicon and promise these days, a strange scent for a harvest. Old Man Cramer, he sees a bounty. Says these memory chips, made by companies like Micron and Sandisk, will keep climbing. He speaks of shortages, of demand, of the hunger of these new thinking machines. But a man who’s seen a few seasons knows that what goes up, especially when driven by such fever, must eventually find the hard earth. These companies, Micron and Sandisk, have bloomed quickly, yes—Micron up sixfold, Sandisk more than ten since the dust settled on Western Digital’s split. But a bloom that fast rarely has deep roots.
Micron Technology
Micron, they make the things that remember for the machines—the fleeting thoughts, the stored knowledge. DRAM, NAND—fancy names for little plates that hold the ones and zeros. They serve the computers, the phones, the big server farms, even the metal horses we drive. They aren’t the biggest, not yet. Samsung and SK Hynix still hold the lion’s share, but Micron is gaining, a slow tide creeping in. They’ve taken a bit of ground, ten percentage points in this new HBM stuff, the kind that feeds the artificial minds.
The numbers look good on paper. Revenue up twenty percent, profits swelling. They talk of AI demand, of shortages stretching into the future. And it’s true, these machines are hungry. But numbers can be dressed up, polished until they shine, hiding the cracks underneath. The CEO, Mehrotra, speaks of a future where supply can’t keep up. A convenient story for keeping the price high. Wall Street expects growth, thirty-seven percent a year. That makes the stock look reasonable, at thirty-two times earnings. But reason rarely guides these markets. It’s greed and fear, a restless wind that shifts direction without warning.
2. Sandisk
Sandisk, they build the solid state drives, the things that replace the old spinning disks. Faster, more resilient, but also more costly. These are the things that matter when you need speed, when you’re chasing the ghost in the machine. They’ve taken a couple points of market share, while the giants stumble. A small victory, perhaps, but in a war of attrition, every inch counts.
Their numbers, too, are painted in bright colors. Revenue up twenty-three percent. But profits are down, a hidden weight beneath the surface. They talk of a coming surge, of earnings nearly tripling. And two big customers are testing their drives, a third soon to follow. Good news, certainly. But hype is a dangerous thing. The stock has soared—a thousand percent since the split. That’s not growth, that’s a fever dream. At 170 times earnings, it’s a house built on sand.
Old Man Cramer sees a future of endless growth. I see a reckoning. These companies are building something new, something powerful. But power always comes at a cost. And the cost is often paid by those who come late to the party, by the small investors who chase the rising tide, only to be left stranded when the water recedes. A man who’s seen a few seasons knows that the dust always settles. And when it does, it’s the patient, the cautious, who inherit the earth.
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2026-01-21 12:04