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Ulcerative colitis. Right. Another crowded market. Everyone’s got a pill for something these days. And they all suppress your immune system. That’s the trick, isn’t it? Fix one thing, break three others. It’s like rearranging furniture to make more space, and then realizing you’ve blocked the doorway. Obefazimod supposedly doesn’t do that. It’s different. It’s…gentle. Of course, they say that. They have to. The phase 3 trial showed remission. Statistically significant. Wonderful. And nearly half the patients had already tried other things. So, they’re the ones the other drugs didn’t work on. That’s… convenient. It’s like saying your new vacuum cleaner works great on dirt that other vacuums couldn’t pick up. It doesn’t exactly inspire confidence. Blockbuster potential, they say. I just… I don’t buy it. It’s just a word. A marketing term.

Pfizer, even in its present state, remains a considerable force, a leviathan among pharmaceutical houses. Its market capitalization, exceeding one hundred and forty-five billion dollars, is not insignificant, though it lags behind certain peers. To place it in perspective, it stands near the tenth position amongst its brethren, not far removed from Intuitive Surgical, whose own valuation hovers around one hundred and ninety billion. This, however, is merely a matter of numbers, a superficial assessment. The true measure of a company lies not in its current wealth, but in its capacity for renewal, its ability to adapt to the relentless pressures of time and circumstance.

The current market, a rather boisterous affair, has rewarded those who merely exist within its capricious currents. Asset managers, as a class, have benefited from this tide, simply because the rising waters lift all boats, however unseaworthy. Fees, of course, are the true engines of prosperity, and those based on assets under management are particularly delightful – a perpetual motion machine of profit, fueled by other people’s optimism.

Mr. Ackman’s ambition, while laudable, is not without a certain theatricality. He has taken a controlling interest in Howard Hughes Holdings, intending to transform it into a diversified holding company – a veritable empire built upon insurance. A curious notion, indeed, and one that echoes the strategies of the venerable Mr. Buffett. But let us remember, the imitation of greatness is often a pale shadow of the original, and the pursuit of wealth, without wisdom, is a comedy of errors.

My list isn’t filled with grand pronouncements or fleeting fancies. It’s a quiet reckoning with where the real work is being done, the foundations being laid. Nvidia, Broadcom, Advanced Micro Devices, Amazon, and Alphabet – these aren’t just names on a ticker tape. They are the workshops where the future is being forged, and a man would do well to understand their craft.

This gentleman, you see, he’s not content with merely buildin’ electric carriages or stickin’ batteries in barns. No sir. He wants to conquer the heavens themselves, and colonize Mars for good measure. Lofty ambitions, I grant you. Though I reckon a fella could do a heap of good fixin’ things here on Earth first. But who am I to question a man with rockets?

Our heroine, Mistress Wood, has been particularly active of late, busying herself with the acquisition of shares in three companies most intriguing. Let us examine these ventures, not merely for their potential returns, but for the character they reveal about the modern investor – a creature driven by hope, enamored of novelty, and, dare I say, occasionally lacking in a certain… prudence.

The stock’s up 1500% since late 2022. Fifteen hundred percent. That’s… a lot. It feels less like investing and more like catching a falling meteor. Should I pile in? Should I run screaming? My therapist says I have a tendency to overthink. She’s probably right.

Investing in companies that distribute a portion of their earnings—dividends, they are called—offers a slight refinement to this rather crude calculation. These payouts, reinvested, have historically outperformed their more austere counterparts. Let us consider, then, two such concerns, Bristol Myers Squibb and Amgen, and examine their prospects for survival—and, if fortune smiles, modest prosperity—over the coming decade.

The basic idea is they own properties – shopping centers, data centers, casinos, the works – and rent them out. They’re legally obliged to hand most of their profits back to us investors as dividends. It’s almost…generous. Almost. Of course, there’s always a catch. Interest rates, naturally. 2022 and 2023 were…challenging. Higher rates meant it cost more to buy new properties, and tenants were feeling the pinch. The dividends suddenly didn’t seem so attractive when you could get a decent return from just…putting your money in a bank. The sheer mundanity of it all!