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Consider, if you will, the case of International Business Machines. A mere announcement – that a fledgling AI, Anthropic’s Claude, might modernize the ancient tongue of COBOL – sent its shares tumbling. A decline of thirteen percent in a single day! One might almost suspect a theatrical exaggeration, were it not for the very real losses suffered by its investors. It is a poignant reminder that even the most venerable of institutions can be undone by a clever turn of phrase – or, in this instance, a line of code.

The results, it appears, fell short of the company’s earlier projections – a discrepancy that casts a shadow over the carefully constructed narratives of growth. Management, with a pragmatism born of necessity, has lowered its guidance and, more significantly, reduced the dividend. A gesture, one might say, of acknowledging a shifting landscape. And it is this acknowledgement, this tacit admission of difficulty, that has prompted the current retreat.

Middleby, for those keeping track—and why would you be, frankly?—had three parts. Commercial foodservice, food processing, and residential kitchens. They’re spinning off food processing, selling off part of the kitchen stuff for $540 million. $540 million! It’s a number. And what’s left? Commercial foodservice. They’ll be making… things for restaurants. It’s not exactly groundbreaking. It’s like rearranging the deck chairs on the Titanic, except the Titanic is… a moderately successful industrial equipment company.

Anthropic’s latest offering, a facility for identifying and rectifying security flaws, has predictably unsettled the guardians of our digital ramparts. The thought, apparently, is that this represents a genuine threat to the established order. One observes a rather hysterical selling of cybersecurity equities. A perfectly reasonable response, of course, if one believes that a clever algorithm can truly replace years of accrued knowledge and, frankly, a healthy dose of paranoia.

Enter Medtronic. A titan, yes, but one with a touch more humility, or at least, a more reasonable valuation. A forward P/E of 16.3? A small mercy in these inflated times. A trifle below its five-year average, a detail that doesn’t shout from the rooftops, but whispers a quiet suggestion to those who listen.

But here’s where it gets interesting. People seem to be overlooking something rather crucial: AMD’s free cash flow. Now, free cash flow, for the uninitiated, is essentially the money a company has left over after paying all its bills. It’s the stuff that can be used for, well, pretty much anything – paying dividends, buying back shares, or, if they’re feeling extravagant, commissioning a solid gold statue of the CEO. And AMD’s has been surging.

Most predictions suggest this growth will continue for several years, likely extending well into the next decade. But the truly fascinating question isn’t if Nvidia will grow, but how much. It’s a question that leads one down a rabbit hole of projected spending, hyperscalers, and numbers so large they begin to lose all meaning. Which, as a student of history, I find endlessly diverting.

It is, of course, tempting to look to the celebrated investors—the titans of finance—for guidance. They are, after all, compelled to reveal their holdings, albeit with a delay that renders the information more akin to a historical document than a timely oracle. Bill Ackman, a name whispered with a mixture of respect and apprehension, offers a curious case study. He does not, it appears, chase the glittering novelties with unbridled enthusiasm. Instead, he seems to favor a melancholic approach—acquiring those once-favored stocks now fallen from grace, those whose potential has been overlooked in the relentless march forward.