Now, some folks get all hung up on being number one. Like they’re competing in the Olympic Games of chip-making. But frankly, who needs to be Nvidia? It’s exhausting! It’s like trying to out-spend Croesus. And besides, second place gets a perfectly good trophy… and a potentially lucrative stock price, if you ask Wedbush analyst Matt Bryson. A smart fella, that Bryson. Probably owns a yacht. Or at least a very nice rowboat.
The second-quarter earnings report, released at month’s end, confirmed what the market had already, with its usual impetuousness, priced in. Though, one notes, there was precious little in the way of genuinely new information. Merely confirmation that the rising tide of AI-related expenditure was, indeed, lifting all boats, however ramshackle.
Wall Street, in its infinite wisdom (and penchant for categorization), has placed NuScale within the “nuclear energy” bucket. Perfectly reasonable, one supposes. But to categorize is not to understand. These SMRs, these miniature behemoths, are not the sprawling, site-built dinosaurs of yesteryear. No, these are fabricated in factories, assembled with the cold precision of a clockmaker, and thus, theoretically, benefit from economies of scale. The crucial word being theoretical. NuScale, you see, hopes to be an industrial manufacturer. It dreams of assembly lines humming with activity, of molten metal and the satisfying clang of progress. But dreams, as any seasoned investor knows, do not pay dividends.
The hyperscalers – Microsoft, Alphabet, Meta Platforms, Amazon – are the cartographers of this digital domain, endlessly charting territories that, even as they are mapped, begin to dissolve. Their quarterly pronouncements, meticulously parsed by the acolytes of Wall Street, are akin to consulting the entrails of a mechanical oracle. On February 5th, Amazon will offer its latest decree, a ritualistic accounting of past performance and future projections. But my attention, unlike that of the more literal-minded, will not be fixed upon the familiar metrics of revenue and profit. I seek instead a shadow, a whisper of something nascent within the figures.
Apparently, all this artificial intelligence everyone keeps talking about – the kind that’s going to steal our jobs and write better poetry than us – requires a lot of storage. A lot. Like, enough to make the Library of Congress look like a pamphlet. And Sandisk, it turns out, makes the things that store all that…stuff. Data, I think they call it. It’s all very technical, and frankly, I’d rather be sorting through old photographs. They had more personality.
Hecla, like so many entities engaged in the excavation of the earth’s resources, does not confine itself to a single commodity. Silver constitutes roughly 48% of its revenue stream, followed by gold at 37%, the remainder allocated to base metals. This diversification, however, feels less like strategic planning and more like an attempt to distribute risk across multiple, equally unpredictable variables. The fluctuating prices of silver and gold, naturally, exert a disproportionate influence on Hecla’s financial performance, a dependency that feels less like empowerment and more like a perpetual state of vassalage to the whims of global markets.
Revenue climbed a respectable seventeen percent to $81.3 billion, and net income swelled by a rather extravagant sixty percent to $38.5 billion. The arithmetic, one must concede, is impressive. Yet, the market, that fickle beast, remains unconvinced. It’s a bit like presenting a perfectly good counterfeit – the details are flawless, but the discerning eye detects a certain… lack of authenticity.
, but by those who are
Too often, the search for income is a compromise. A high yield can be a siren song, luring investors onto the rocks of unsustainable payouts. A company may offer a generous dividend, but if its foundations are weak, that stream will soon dry up. Conversely, a solid company, growing steadily, may offer a modest yield, dismissed by those who crave immediate reward. It’s a matter of understanding where the true strength lies – in the enduring quality of the land, not the fleeting abundance of a single season.
The January statistics, a mere fragment of a larger, unwritten compendium, reveal a pattern of expansion. One might envision these figures as the proliferating branches of a labyrinth, each turn representing a transaction, each chamber a client account. The Daily Average Revenue Trades (DARTs), an oddly evocative term, increased by 27% year-over-year, exceeding the previous December’s tally by a further 30%. A curious recursion, wouldn’t you agree? The total number of client accounts – a multitude mirrored in countless other brokerage firms – swelled by 32%, approaching the threshold of 4.54 million. A number, significant only in its arbitrary precision.