The market, you see, is not a ledger of gains and losses, but a vast, echoing chamber where fortunes bloom and wither like wildflowers. And in this chamber, a trader must be a gardener, tending to the promising shoots and accepting the inevitable decay. I have been building a reserve, a quiet pool of capital, sensing a gathering storm on the horizon. Not a tempest, perhaps, but a persistent drizzle, enough to dampen enthusiasm and blur the long-term view.
The news sent Kratos shares a-climbin’ for a spell. But, like a greased pig at a county fair, the gains didn’t stick. Gave it all back, near enough, leaving investors wonderin’ if they’d been chasin’ a phantom. A man could lose his shirt on such whims, and often does.
For years, these smaller enterprises have languished in the shadow of the established giants, a prolonged period of underperformance that invites speculation. One might reasonably posit that a reckoning is at hand, that a period of sustained growth is overdue. Provided, of course, that the prevailing economic currents do not falter, that the ship of prosperity does not run aground on the shoals of unforeseen circumstance. A fragile hope, easily extinguished.
Thus, the Federal Reserve, that imposing edifice of charts and pronouncements, has become the object of such anxious scrutiny. They raise rates to quell the fiery breath of inflation, then lower them again, hoping to coax a smile from the fickle goddess of employment. A delicate dance, to be sure, but one performed by men who seem increasingly… distracted. The S&P 500 (^GSPC +1.22%), puffed up with optimism, trades at a price-to-earnings ratio that would make a provincial governor blush. And the Nasdaq Composite (^IXIC +1.48%), a veritable carnival of speculative excess, is even more outrageously priced, brimming with companies that promise riches tomorrow, while demanding payment today. It’s as if everyone is convinced they’ve discovered a perpetual motion machine, ignoring the inevitable friction of reality.
And then there’s Energy Transfer. (ET +0.72%). Pipeline company. They move stuff. Oil, gas, the usual. Apparently, they’re up 14% this year. Fourteen percent! It’s like, okay, fine, they’re doing something right. But is it enough to actually get me interested? That’s the question.
This year, however, things have been…peculiar. The fund’s sprouted upwards by over 12%, leaving the S&P 500 looking rather droopy with its 3% slump. And what’s been driving this upward surge? Three rather large fellows: Lockheed Martin (LMT 0.74%), ConocoPhillips (COP +0.28%), and Chevron (CVX +0.34%). They’re a bit like three hefty chaps pushing a swing – and this year, they’ve been pushing it rather hard indeed.
Taiwan Semi’s managed a rather tidy 50% since then, which is nothing to sniff at. But Micron? A whopping 300%! It’s a whirlwind, a dizzying climb. Which begs the question: has this little rascal become too plump for its own good?
Walmart, you see, is a bit like that dependable, slightly unfashionable uncle who always has a tenner in his pocket and a practical suggestion. It’s the biggest grocer in the United States, a retail behemoth, and therefore sits right in the path of those shifting consumer habits. The question isn’t whether Walmart will survive a downturn – honestly, it’s about as likely to vanish as gravity – but whether it can actually benefit from one. It’s a surprisingly nuanced question, and one that involves a lot more than just hoping people keep buying toilet paper.
The elder scholar, Master Elmsworth, once posited that all financial instruments are, at their core, exercises in controlled illusion. He would have found these ETFs… intriguing. Both aim to capture the fleeting momentum of companies deemed “growth” oriented, a classification as arbitrary as naming constellations. VBK, with its wider net (579 holdings, as the compilers report), seeks a broader, if shallower, reflection of this momentum. SLYG, more selective (339 holdings), proposes a concentrated gaze, as if attempting to fix a phantom in a darkened room.
open up, like waiting for a date who’s perpetually fifteen minutes away. It hasn’t happened, obviously. And a lot of companies have, shall we say, streamlined. Or disappeared. Tilray’s gone for the diversification route. Which sounds… sensible. On paper.