She, the orchestrator of Ark Invest’s portfolio – a rather audacious ensemble of growth-minded enterprises – has been, shall we say, accumulating. A collector of promissory notes, if you will, on these very same ventures. Let us, with a detached curiosity, examine the rationale behind this peculiar fondness, this willingness to catch falling stars before they fully extinguish.
Stifel’s Wieczynski stuck to his “buy” rating, a $25 target. Analysts. They deal in hopes and projections. I deal in realities, and the reality is, numbers don’t lie, but they can be…massaged.
There was, at one point, a rather substantial impairment charge – a sum of $3.8 billion, if you please – which rather knocked the book value about. But things, as they so often do, are in a state of flux. Berkshire, now under the capable direction of Mr. Greg Abel, considered, if whispers are to be believed, a divestment. The notion of splitting Kraft Heinz into two separate entities was bandied about, but mercifully, it seems, was put on hold, presumably at Berkshire’s behest. One gathers they’re content to hold firm for the moment, and frankly, one can’t blame them for a spot of caution.
You’d think, wouldn’t you, with everything going on in the Middle East, that gold – that age-old ‘safe haven’ asset – would be doing rather well. A bit of a rally, perhaps. Instead, it’s been going the other way. Falling. Which is… perplexing. It’s a bit like expecting an umbrella to keep you dry during a snowstorm. It just doesn’t compute.
But admiring the engine is not the same as admiring the price of the fuel. Costco, in its relentless efficiency, has reached a valuation that requires a certain… faith. A leap, if you will, over a chasm filled with discounted toilet paper and the ghosts of overvalued retailers past. The problem, naturally, isn’t the business itself. It’s the number currently affixed to each share. Approaching the thousand-dollar mark again, investors would do well to consider if they’re buying a company, or simply a particularly robust rumour.
The current unrest in the Middle East, predictably, has begun to unsettle the markets. More precisely, it has forced a belated reckoning with the fact that perpetual optimism is a luxury few can afford. The whispers among those who watch the Federal Reserve – a rather gloomy fraternity, at the best of times – suggest a rather less generous flow of rate cuts than anticipated. A curious development, wouldn’t you agree? To expect endless descent is to ignore the immutable laws of gravity, both financial and physical.
The price tag? Around $8.79 million. Which, when you think about it, is roughly equivalent to the cost of a decent, albeit small, island. Or a truly impressive collection of vintage staplers. I’ve been known to collect both, though not concurrently. The staplers are far more reliable.
Now, the stock trades below ten dollars. A reckoning, some might say. But the land holds stories for those who listen, and sometimes, even in the dust, a bloom can take root. Let us look at what brought Lucid low, and whether a small investment might find purchase in this arid ground.
Well, isn’t this a familiar sight? Bitcoin’s latest flirtation with $74,000 lasted just long enough to get everyone’s hopes up before plummeting back to the comforting realm of $69,000. In case you missed it, short-term traders have already jumped ship, cashing in over 27,000 BTC (that’s $1.8 billion, if you’re counting) on the way out. Sounds like they’re following the same script we’ve seen for the last few years: big spike, quick cash-out.
He scattered his bets. Apple, American Express, Bank of America. Solid names. The kind that don’t keep you up at night. He left that portfolio to Abel, his successor. A clean handoff. But there was always one play he kept recommending. Not to the big boys, but to the rest of us. The ones who don’t have platoons of analysts.