They now hold over 1.8 million shares. That’s $180.36 million worth of hope, or risk, depending on how you look at it. 6.7% of Soleus’s whole pile of money is now tied up in this one company. A significant commitment. Or a foolish one. Time will tell, won’t it?
The criteria are deceptively simple: a product or service of unyielding demand, and a corporate culture resistant to the entropy that governs all things. These, of course, are ideals. What follows is not an endorsement, but a cartography of potential illusions – a catalog of securities that, for a fleeting moment, appear to defy the inevitable.
Nvidia, of course, briefly hit that $5 trillion mark, then wobbled. It’s like watching a tightrope walker. Impressive, but also deeply unsettling. Alphabet, though, feels…different. It’s not just about the numbers. It’s about the sheer, almost frightening ubiquity of the company. I was at a family barbecue last week, and even my Uncle Harold, who still thinks the internet is a fad, was asking Siri – Siri! – to identify a particularly stubborn weed. It’s a takeover, really, subtle and complete. And, as an investor, I’m strangely okay with that.
Starbucks. A place where one pays an astonishing amount for a cup of heated bean water. And yet, they persist. Truly remarkable. They’ve had a bit of a wobble lately, a bit of a “what are we doing with our lives?” crisis, but seem to be pulling themselves together. They’re paying a dividend, which, at the moment, is about $2.48 a year for every $100 you invest. Which isn’t exactly going to fund a yacht, but it’s a start. The interesting thing is, they’re pushing the limits of what they can realistically afford to pay out, given their earnings. It’s a bit like a family taking out a second mortgage to buy a slightly nicer television. Risky, but potentially rewarding. Their new CEO, Brian Niccol – a chap who previously ran Chipotle, which, let’s be honest, is a bit of a miracle in itself – seems to have a plan. He’s calling it “Back to Starbucks,” which sounds suspiciously like a desperate attempt to recapture lost glory. But it appears to be working. Sales are up, people are ordering more things, and the company is generally looking less…despondent.
Units of Leveraged ETFs Considered: 2. Hours Spent Trying to Understand Daily Resets: 7. Number of Times I’ve Questioned My Life Choices: Too many to count.
This dip, it’s the biggest since ’22. Feels like a pattern repeating, a cycle turning. Some say it’s just the big players, shuffling the deck, betting against the little man. Others believe it’s a self-fulfilling prophecy, the smart money running ahead of the storm. A trader watches, and a trader waits. The question isn’t whether it’ll fall further, but how far, and when. History, if you listen close, offers a kind of answer, though it’s never a sure thing.
January’s CPI is basically the season finale for Fed rate chatter. Markets are betting inflation lands around 2.5% year over year. But futures data say the Fed’s not in the mood for a rate cut just yet-it’s more “maybe next episode,” thank you very much.
But the seasons shift, and a certain…restlessness has settled upon the markets. The year has progressed with a measured pace, the S&P 500 advancing with a modesty that feels, after the recent exuberance, almost…provincial. The Nasdaq Composite, once a whirlwind of activity, remains stubbornly still, as if contemplating the weight of its own past glories. A subtle disquiet, a premonition of change, hangs in the air.
The company finds itself in a familiar predicament: the inevitable erosion of revenue. Ibrance, Eliquis, Vyndaqel – names that once commanded attention, soon to be relegated to the annals of generic competition. It’s a cycle as predictable as the changing seasons, and one that leaves a lingering melancholy. And then there’s the weight loss race, where Pfizer, for a time, seemed content to watch from the sidelines. Novo Nordisk and Eli Lilly sprinted ahead, while Pfizer’s initial efforts… well, let’s just say they didn’t quite catch the wind. They were forced to acquire another company just to rejoin the fray, a rather undignified scramble, wouldn’t you agree?
But recently, a bit of a wobble appeared. Folks started muttering about whether this marvelous money-making machine could keep chugging along. The worry was simple: if companies suddenly decided they didn’t need quite so many thinking-boxes, Nvidia’s profits might shrink, and that, naturally, would make the investors rather cross. Experts predicted a trillion-dollar AI market by 2030, but some remained skeptical, peering through their spectacles and waiting for a proper sign.