The filing with the Securities and Exchange Commission, dated February 4th, confirms the transaction. It appears Alpine sees something… promising. Or, perhaps, they simply enjoy a flutter. One never quite knows with these funds. The holding now represents 5.9% of their 13F reportable AUM as of December 31st, 2025. A rather significant commitment, wouldn’t you say?
A considerable portion of our investing public—some 37%, if the latest surveys are to be believed—now anticipate a decline. A most curious sentiment, is it not? To fear prosperity, to predict ruin where, for a decade past, only gains have blossomed! It is as if they expect the sun to suddenly take offense at their good fortune and withdraw its warmth. The optimists, alas, number only a modest 34%—a pitifully small chorus of cheer in a theatre rapidly filling with apprehension.
The pursuit of quick riches in the blossoming marijuana industry, a fever dream of green leaves and inflated valuations, has left many investors with little more than ashes in their hands. Even the pronouncements of presidents, those fleeting attempts to reshape reality, proved powerless against the immutable laws of market gravity. Canopy Growth, once heralded as a titan, now stands as a cautionary tale, a testament to the perils of chasing phantom profits. The air, thick with disappointment, carries the scent of burned capital. It is a scent Altria knows well, yet has somehow managed to avoid.
Buffett, bless his heart, admitted as much. And now Greg Abel is at the helm. A perfectly nice man, I’m sure. I once spent an entire flight next to someone who managed a mid-sized paperclip factory, and he seemed equally competent. The question isn’t competence, it’s scale. It’s the quiet desperation of having so much money that even good investments feel… underwhelming.
The banks offer about 1.5%, maybe 1.6%, these days. A pittance. Enough to maybe offset the rising cost of regret. They’ll tell you it’s safe. And technically, it is. Safe from a lot of things. Not safe from time, or inflation, or the general absurdity of existence. But insured. That’s something.
It’s gone from being the dependable, slightly dusty software provider your dad’s office used, to the darling of Wall Street, and then, in what felt like a particularly swift plummet, to the poster child for high-risk AI spending. Honestly, it’s exhausting just keeping up with the narrative. It’s currently down 54.9% from its peak last September. Which, if you’re a glass-half-empty type – and let’s be honest, after a few years in this business, you tend to be – feels less like a buying opportunity and more like a warning.
The framework begins with Coinbase’s previously shared heatmap of “real supply and demand levels,” constructed by blending market structure pivot points and volume into neat little price bands. At the core of it all, the densest support cluster lies at $60,000, while the first dense resistance band shows up around $82,000. These areas are like popular hangout spots for market interest, where liquidity tends to gather in large pools. Think of it as the digital version of the crowded coffee shop where all the cool kids hang out.
It’s easy to forget, looking at the polished floors and endless rows of goods, that this isn’t about prosperity, but about volume. McMillon inherited a struggle, a company buffeted by the winds of change, Amazon a gathering storm. The price-to-earnings ratio, a measure of hope, was down to fifteen, a farmer’s field left fallow. He coaxed life back into it, turning Walmart into something resembling all things to all people, spreading roots internationally, and offering a wage that didn’t quite shame. He understood the need to keep the hands that stacked the shelves from shaking with hunger.
The S&P 500, a monument to collective delusion, offers a paltry 1.1% yield. A mere trifle, barely enough to offset the erosion of purchasing power. The average REIT, at 3.8%, appears comparatively generous, a fleeting promise of respite. Federal Realty, with its 4.2%, and Realty Income, edging towards 5%, seem almost… merciful. But let us not be seduced by surface appearances. The higher the yield, the greater the risk, the deeper the shadows lurking beneath the veneer of prosperity. These are not gifts, but bargains—and every bargain demands a price.
The Hazeltree report, a meticulous catalog of this herd behavior, confirms it. Amazon, ranked highest in the crowded portfolios, a title that speaks less to inherent worth and more to the unbearable weight of consensus. Microsoft and Nvidia, trailing behind, merely participate in the same tragicomedy, each vying for a place in the dwindling circle of perceived safety. The numbers – 99, 82, 80 – are not indicators of brilliance, but measures of desperation.