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Janus Henderson anticipates volatility. A remarkably astute observation, as if volatility ever requires anticipation. It simply happens. Still, one must prepare. And few are better positioned to navigate a tempest than Berkshire Hathaway. Old Warren, bless his shrewd heart, has amassed a cash hoard that would make Croesus blush – some $382 billion, mostly tucked away in short-term Treasuries. A perfectly respectable, if somewhat dull, pastime. If the Federal Reserve maintains its current somnambulist approach to interest rates while long-term yields climb, Berkshire will continue to clip coupons with cheerful indifference. And should inflation, that perennial phantom, rear its head, Berkshire’s vast reserves will allow it to scoop up undervalued assets like a pelican with a particularly efficient beak.

To speak of ‘value’ is to invite a chorus of conflicting definitions. But let us be clear: true value lies not in the ephemeral promise of tomorrow’s headline, but in the sober assessment of today’s price. And so, we shall dissect these instruments, not with the breathless enthusiasm of a stock tout, but with the detached curiosity of a pathologist examining a particularly stubborn ailment.

I’ve been poking around these two myself, mostly because I’m tired of hearing Dale’s smug pronouncements. Both are cheap – a 0.09% expense ratio, which feels almost offensively reasonable in this economy. It’s like they’re daring you to find a reason to complain. IEMG, though, throws a little extra dividend your way (2.75% versus SPGM’s 1.89%). Not enough to retire on, but enough to maybe buy a slightly nicer brand of paper towels. Dale, of course, sees it as a sign of imminent riches.

Nvidia, having positioned itself rather cleverly at the heart of this technological flurry, has benefited handsomely. The company’s share price, a truly baroque ascent, now rests at a height that invites correction. Yet, the quarterly report due on February 25th looms, and the financial community, a notoriously excitable flock, awaits the pronouncements with the breathless anticipation usually reserved for a papal decree.

Oracle, with a current market capitalization significantly below that of Nvidia, has largely remained outside the immediate purview of the AI-driven market rally. This is not to suggest a lack of engagement with the same underlying trends. Rather, Oracle’s approach is characterized by a substantial, and presently unfashionable, commitment to the underlying infrastructure required to support these advancements. This entails significant capital expenditure, and a corresponding impact on near-term profitability metrics.

Inflation. The silent thief of purchasing power. It’s been eroding the value of money for centuries, and it shows no sign of stopping. Bitcoin, at least in theory, offers a potential escape hatch. Unlike traditional currencies, which governments can print at will, there will only ever be 21 million Bitcoins. Scarcity, you see, is a powerful thing. Close to 20 million are already in circulation, which is a bit like knowing there are only a finite number of first editions of a particularly desirable book. It doesn’t guarantee the price will go up, but it does create a certain… tension.

The figures are, admittedly, arresting. A quintupling of value in a mere thirteen months – a testament, not necessarily to inherent worth, but to the speculative fervor that now grips the markets. A 41% ascent this year alone, as of the third day of February. Such velocity… it recalls the frantic scramble for land during the gold rushes, a temporary madness before the inevitable reckoning. One asks oneself, what is being mined here, and at what cost?

These aren’t just ETFs; they’re reflections of the American economic psyche. SPY, the establishment’s darling, spreading its wealth across 502 companies. QQQ? A laser-focused obsession with the NASDAQ-100, a congregation of tech titans. The numbers, as they always do, tell a twisted tale. SPY’s expense ratio? A paltry 0.09%. QQQ? A greedy 0.20%. But let’s be honest, we’re not counting pennies here. We’re chasing momentum. And momentum, my friends, costs money.

Goldman’s exit is framed as ‘streamlining,’ which is corporate speak for “we messed this up.” They thought they could waltz into consumer banking? Bless their hearts. It’s like me deciding I’m going to become a brain surgeon. I can read a book, sure, but I’d probably end up causing more damage than good. The handover will take two years, which is approximately 18 months longer than it takes me to make a bad decision.