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The paperwork – SEC Form 4, naturally – revealed the sale, and the usual table of numbers followed. She still holds 78,522 shares, which, according to my calculations (and a calculator app I downloaded specifically for this purpose), is worth around $5.6 million. It’s a comfortable sum, even after the sale. I sometimes wonder what people do with that kind of money. Probably something sensible. Or maybe a lifetime supply of miniature porcelain thimbles. You never know.

The question, therefore, is not merely whether Novo Nordisk might flourish, but whether it might achieve a truly remarkable expansion – specifically, the transformation of a modest investment into a fortune. Could one, with a sum of one hundred thousand dollars, reasonably anticipate a million within the decade? A pleasing notion, certainly, but one requiring a degree of optimism not always supported by sober calculation.

Thus, the discerning investor, weary of chasing vaporous fortunes, might turn their gaze to a more…substantial edifice. International Business Machines, or IBM as it is known, a name that carries the weight of decades, if not centuries, of calculated progress. It is not a sleek, new contraption promising miracles, but a sturdy, if somewhat creaky, machine that actually does things. And, crucially, generates actual coin. A most comforting quality, wouldn’t you agree?

Salesforce. CRM. It’s…fine. A fundamentally sound company, they say. But the stock has been getting hammered lately. Thirty percent down year-to-date. It’s just…messy. And then you start digging into the insider transactions. It’s never straightforward, is it? Never. You get these reports, and it’s always a puzzle. Like trying to decipher a tax form written in hieroglyphics.

They’re building micro reactors. Small-scale nukes, if you will. The Kronos system. A mouthful. It uses something called TRISO fuel, which apparently won’t melt down if you look at it wrong. Safer than the old stuff, they say. Everything’s safer until it isn’t. I’ve seen enough promises to fill a landfill.

The idea is simple enough. You bet on whether a company will exceed (or fall short of) its projected earnings. Polymarket, apparently, is where these bets are made. As of Sunday, Dale was practically vibrating with confidence, informing me that 64% of the “yes” contracts were held by people who, like him, believed in the power of pepperoni and a strong quarterly report. The magic number, he explained, was $5.39 a share. Anything over that, and we were golden. Anything less, and I’d be hearing about it for the next decade.

On the surface, the situation appears almost paradoxical. Meta concluded 2025 with a fourth-quarter revenue of $59.9 billion – a 24% year-over-year increase, a respectable sum, certainly. Yet, the market seems to regard this financial blossoming with a peculiar indifference, as if a garden overflowing with blooms were merely…adequate. The emphasis, it seems, has shifted from the tangible fruits of the business to the less visible, and considerably more expensive, ambitions lurking beneath the surface. A peculiar focus, wouldn’t you agree? As if anticipating the cost of the vase before admiring the roses.