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The story, as I understand it, is this: Occidental, after a rather ambitious acquisition of Anadarko, found itself saddled with debt. A lot of debt. Like, enough debt to make even my aunt Carol reconsider a second timeshare. Then came the pandemic, and oil prices briefly flirted with negative territory. It was a mess. But then, miraculously, things improved. They paid down $13.9 billion in debt. A truly impressive feat, if you ignore the fact that they sold off OxyChem, a perfectly good chemical business, to – you guessed it – Berkshire Hathaway. It’s all starting to feel a little…circular.

One observes that this sale, while substantial, is not an isolated event. Indeed, it mirrors a prior dispersal of an equal number of shares, a curious symmetry that invites contemplation. Is it merely a matter of prudent diversification, or does it betray a subtle calculation, a weighing of present gain against future prospects? The man, after all, retains 701,934 shares, still representing a considerable stake, valued at approximately $11.89 million. Yet, the act of relinquishing a quarter of his direct holdings is not to be dismissed lightly. It is a gesture, a signal, a quiet declaration in the ceaseless game of wealth.

Alphabet, a name once synonymous with boundless optimism, has felt the chill of this seasonal discontent. The announcement of substantial capital expenditures – a commitment of some $175 to $185 billion by 2026 – appears to have unsettled the more excitable investors. Yet, one might ask, is it not precisely such foresight, such a willingness to invest in the very foundations of future growth, that distinguishes enduring enterprises? The surge in Google Cloud sales – a robust 48% increase – speaks volumes, and the attendant demand for computational capacity is not a fleeting fancy. The data centers, one learns, are operating at historically low vacancy rates – a quiet testament to the genuine appetite for these services. It is a rather unromantic observation, but a full belly rarely complains.

They sold off 62,346 shares, you see, a move recorded in those official papers filed with the SEC – a body that, if it spent half as much time looking forward as it does documenting what’s already happened, might actually prevent a few calamities. But that, my friends, is a wishful thought.

This market, predictably, is a crucible of competition. But within this relentless struggle for pecuniary advantage, something less tangible, less easily quantified, often determines the victor. It is not merely a matter of profit margins or logistical efficiency, but of a more insidious force: the cultivation of habitual preference, the quiet erosion of independent judgment.

The price used for valuation, according to the paperwork, was $64.51 per share. A number, really, like any other. It just happened to represent a tiny slice of ownership in a company trying to make people less sensitive to sunlight. A noble goal, I suppose.

Three hundred and twenty billion in equities, plus a cash pile that could choke a horse. Abel admits he’d rather put that money to work, not let it gather dust earning pennies. Smart man. Sitting on cash is for guys who are afraid of shadows. This isn’t about safety; it’s about finding something worth owning. Something that grows. Something that doesn’t remind you of a slow decline.

I have been examining dividend-paying stocks as a means to this end. Not for spectacular gains – those are often illusory – but for the steady, predictable return of capital. Three such stocks currently appear reasonably positioned to deliver this: Enterprise Products Partners (EPD +0.50%), Invitation Homes (INVH +0.04%), and W.P. Carey (WPC +0.58%). Their merits, and the rationale behind my interest, are detailed below.

This, naturally, now constitutes a rather alarming 61.1% of the fund’s 13F reportable AUM. One pictures the portfolio manager, perhaps, having a particularly good day at the races. Or possibly, simply a lack of other sensible options. The current holdings, for those keeping score (though why anyone would is beyond me), are as follows:

Devon, left to its own devices, could, of course, continue to bore holes in the earth. A perfectly respectable, if rather tedious, occupation. But the relentless march of depletion – the inevitable decline of any finite resource – demands a more…robust approach. Every barrel extracted is a barrel less to extract tomorrow, a rather grim accounting for any energy concern. Acquisition, therefore, isn’t merely expansion; it’s a postponement of the inevitable reckoning. And a rather effective one, at that.