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Last year witnessed a deliberate turning away from the lesser fruits of the mobile and consumer electronics markets – a necessary pruning, one might say – in favor of the more substantial, though demanding, cultivation of infrastructure for data centers and the electrification of industry. These are ventures promising not merely growth, but a degree of permanence, a solidity that eludes the fleeting whims of fashion. The potential, as the prognosticators claim, is vast. One hears whispers of a trillion-dollar market by 2030, a sum so large it strains the imagination, and yet, what is a trillion dollars in the grand scheme of human endeavor?

Mr. O’Donnell’s firm, O’Donnell Financial Services, decided to add a considerable heap of CLOA shares to their holdings back in January of ’26. A $6.8 million heap, to be precise. That’s a fair sum, enough to make a man consider buying a small island, or at least a very comfortable rocking chair. They started with 7,868 shares and swelled it up to 139,782. Now, a prudent investor, one who doesn’t go chasin’ rainbows, doesn’t make such a move on a whim. It suggests they believe this CLOA contraption has some merit.

The iPhone, that little window into everyone’s lives, suddenly decided to sell again. A good time to buy the stock, you ask? Well, that’s the question, isn’t it? Humans always want a sign. A guarantee. There isn’t one.

This, however, is not a cause for alarm, but rather, an opportunity. A chance to acquire shares in a company that seems determined to reinvent the very notion of transport, even if it requires a substantial investment in… well, in everything. The increase in expenditures, you see, is not profligacy, but foresight. A recognition that the future of movement lies not in the clatter of hooves or the belch of steam engines, but in the silent glide of autonomous vehicles. The CEO, a Mr. Khosrowshahi, has declared that they are building for tomorrow while delivering today. A perfectly reasonable sentiment, though one wonders if he has actually seen tomorrow. It’s usually quite crowded.

The guidance, you see, is better than what the scribes of Wall Street were expecting. Though, as CFO Brian Dykes pointed out some moons ago (October, to be precise), this wasn’t exactly a surprise. He’d hinted at it, like a fortune teller offering a vague prediction about a rainy Tuesday. “We expect it to be above that,” he said, referring to the dividend cover. A statement that, in the world of high finance, is roughly equivalent to a wizard saying, “I believe I can conjure a rabbit.” It’s not a guarantee, merely an expression of optimistic intent.

This USTB, it turns out, now makes up about 1.05% of Merit’s entire stash of assets. A little slice of the pie, perhaps, but a slice that’s clearly caught their eye. Here’s what else they’re fiddling with:

Micron makes memory. Not the fancy logic chips Taiwan Semiconductor cranks out. Memory’s a commodity. Like sand. Lots of it. No real magic. Which usually means thin margins. But something’s shifted. Demand’s gone vertical.

They’ve delivered a quarterly report that isn’t actively offensive, and are forecasting growth. Bullish, they’re calling it. I’m calling it… a temporary reprieve. But hey, I’m a portfolio manager, so I’m contractually obligated to look for the upside. And there is… a sliver.

The question, of course, is whether this represents a pause for breath, or the inevitable plateau before a rather unpleasant descent. Wall Street, ever optimistic, anticipates revenue growth of 63% for the fiscal year 2026. A perfectly respectable figure, certainly, but one wonders if the market has already priced in this bounty. The shares, one observes, have not exactly mirrored this exuberance.

Goldman Sachs, in a display of uncharacteristic clarity, predicts a surge in demand – 165% by 2030. A substantial figure, though one suspects the projections will be revised upwards, as is so often the case. Data centers, these temples of the digital age, require sustenance. And that sustenance, regrettably, is not found in algorithms, but in kilowatt-hours. The irony is almost… touching.