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The big chaps at companies like Amazon and Microsoft are spending fortunes – absolutely mountains of money – building these electronic brains. They’re erecting these enormous “data centers,” which sound suspiciously like dungeons for numbers, and everyone’s getting a bit twitchy. Amazon, you see, announced plans to splurge two hundred billion dollars by 2026. A truly ghastly amount! The stock price promptly did a little jig downwards, tumbling about nine percent this year. Microsoft isn’t faring much better, despite all their bluster. They’re spending a similar sum, and their stock has also taken a bit of a knock.

Critical Metals (CRML 7.83%), a name that once held the promise of buried treasure, found itself adrift in these currents. After a month basking in the illusory warmth of double-digit valuations, the stock dipped below the ten-dollar mark today, a descent as silent and inexorable as the winter darkness. There were no pronouncements of disaster, no immediate catastrophes to explain the shift, only a quiet unraveling, a sense that the ground had subtly tilted. As of this afternoon, the stock had yielded 8.3% of its value, a sacrifice to the unseen forces at play.

Yet, amidst this general air of disquiet, a curious phenomenon emerges: a “vibe coding tool,” they call it. A most peculiar name, suggestive of something ethereal and fleeting. This tool, launched recently, appears to be generating revenue at a rate that even the most optimistic of Monday.com’s forecasters could not have predicted. The irony, of course, is that it is being introduced precisely when the threat of artificial intelligence looms largest. It is as if they are attempting to build a fortress against a storm with materials scavenged from the wreckage of a previous one.

Spire owns and operates a ‘constellation’ of satellites – a term that makes it sound far more glamorous than it is. These aren’t sleek, chrome cruisers; they’re more like tin cans with exceptionally good ears. They gather data – non-visual data, mind you. Think of it as eavesdropping on the atmosphere and the earth, but from a very long distance. Useful for coordinating air traffic (preventing mid-air collisions, a generally good thing) and, more importantly, for discerning the subtle moods of weather systems.¹

According to a filing with the Securities and Exchange Commission – a body dedicated to ensuring that everyone understands exactly how much money everyone else has, which, frankly, seems a bit excessive – Hodges Capital increased its holdings of Bank OZK in the fourth quarter. The purchase added $9.97 million to their existing position, a figure that, when viewed in the context of global debt, is…well, it’s there. The increase reflects both the transaction itself and the fluctuating whims of the market, a force as unpredictable as a caffeinated squirrel.

The cause, predictably, is someone pointing out the obvious. Michael Burry, the man who correctly predicted the 2008 housing crisis, has taken a dislike to Palantir. It’s a bit like being scolded by your history teacher. You knew the test was coming, you just hoped they wouldn’t call on you.

They’re the biggest by sales now, which is a statistic, really. A number floating in the ether. They should be getting parades. Instead, the stock price dips, and everyone pretends to be surprised. Down 8% in a year. A mere blip in the grand, meaningless scheme of things.

The question, of course, is not whether Meta can split its stock, but whether it will. The markets, you see, are driven by irrationality as much as by reason. And the human psyche, well, that’s a labyrinth best left unexplored after a strong cup of tea. A stock split, in its essence, is a theatrical gesture. A magician’s trick. It doesn’t alter the underlying value of the company, merely slices the pie into smaller, more digestible portions for the masses. A psychological palliative, if you will. Though one must admit, the proliferation of fractional shares has somewhat dulled the appeal of such maneuvers. Still, some investors cling to the illusion of affordability.

The fourth quarter of 2025 revealed total sales of $2.97 billion – a respectable figure, one supposes, though respectability rarely fills the coffers. Net income, however, presented a more peculiar tableau. Stripped of the usual accounting artifice (the “generally accepted principles,” as if principles were ever truly accepted), it slumped by a disheartening 24% to $225 million ($0.44 per share). A most curious discrepancy.

Last August, in a fit of optimistic categorization, I proposed the “Ten Titans” as an expansion of the “Magnificent Seven.” (The Magnificent Seven, one notes, sounds suspiciously like a 1960s Western, which raises the question of whether stock market analysts secretly yearn for a life of dusty saloons and dramatic showdowns. Probably.) This broadening was intended to encompass companies like Broadcom, Netflix, and, of course, Oracle. The idea, in essence, was to acknowledge that the universe contains more than seven reasonably successful entities. A rather radical notion, really.