They’re trying, of course. New menu items. Lower prices. The usual. But people are pinching pennies. Eating at home. Perfectly reasonable. Why pay fifteen dollars for lettuce when you can have a perfectly good peanut butter sandwich? It’s a universe that doesn’t care about your lunch choices.
MercadoLibre isn’t just a company; it’s an ecosystem, a thriving digital bazaar for Latin America. It’s bursting at the seams, a testament to the relentless demand for e-commerce and, crucially, financial solutions in a region where traditional banking is… let’s just say, less than universally adored. They’re attracting new users at a rate that suggests someone’s been offering free kittens with every purchase.1
It’s natural to feel a pull towards safety, to gather what you’ve earned and bury it like a seed against a hard winter. Some speak of gold, of bonds… things that hold their value when the world feels unsteady. But I’ve seen enough seasons to know that running from the storm rarely brings lasting peace. Selling now, after gains, means giving a piece of your harvest to the tax man. And history, that slow, patient teacher, shows us that the land eventually greens again. Panicking now is like abandoning a field before the rain comes.
Then came 2025. Ah, 2025. The year the burrito met reality. The stock price performed a rather undignified plummet, shedding 38% of its value. From a lofty $60 per share to a more grounded $37. Currently, it lingers around $35, down a negligible 6% year to date. A mere trifle, one might say, but a trifle that demands scrutiny. The market, you see, is a fickle mistress, and she does not suffer fools gladly – or overpriced avocados.
The S&P 500, after a momentary display of optimism following pronouncements from Washington, has, with a characteristic lack of fortitude, retreated somewhat. A decline of over three percent in the past month, and a similar distance from January’s peak, has prompted much agitated discussion. It is, of course, always the case that those inclined to fret find ample reason to do so, particularly when whispers of a potential economic contraction begin to circulate. One might venture to suggest, however, that a degree of composure would be more becoming than outright panic.
Taiwan Semiconductor Manufacturing – TSM, as the market so prosaically abbreviates it – is the silent partner to all these grand ambitions. The spending of these hyperscalers, Nvidia’s relentless pursuit of more advanced silicon, Apple’s preparations for a generative AI future – it all, inevitably, flows towards this one company. One might say it’s a rather unglamorous position, being the foundation upon which others build their castles. But a foundation, my dear reader, is precisely what prevents everything from collapsing into ruin.
Recent, shall we say, revival in the digital asset realm has offered a temporary reprieve, lifting Coinbase to around $196 as of March 12 – a gain of 25% in a month. Bitcoin, meanwhile, has dared to breach the $70,000 mark. Such exuberance, however, is rarely founded on anything so solid as reason.
Yet, amidst this unfolding uncertainty, a quiet shift is occurring. A re-evaluation of risk, a hesitant retreat from the volatile fringes towards the bedrock of enduring value. It is not a surge of optimism, but a pragmatic acknowledgment that in times of turbulence, the steadfast often outlast the spectacular. A turning away from the ephemeral allure of growth, towards the enduring qualities of resilience and necessity.
The headlines, as they often do, offer a fractured glimpse. The Artemis II mission, already burdened by expectation, now lingers a little longer on the launchpad. And Artemis III, once slated to touch down on the lunar dust in 2028, will instead orbit, a spectral prelude to the true landing. It sounds, doesn’t it, like a retreat? A yielding to the vast indifference of space? But the universe, I suspect, rewards patience, not haste.
Chewy’s strength, as I discern it, lies in its mastery of the automatic. Eighty-four percent of its transactions, it is said, are governed by this principle – a regular, almost ritualistic replenishment of supplies. This, naturally, invites comparison to the legendary Clockwork Men of Prague, each programmed to fulfill a single, unwavering purpose. But unlike those mechanical simulacra, Chewy’s automatons are driven by a far more primal force: the unyielding demands of appetite. A comforting thought, perhaps, for the long-term investor, that even in the face of cosmic indifference, the hunger of a Persian cat remains constant.