US Stocks prediction

The thing about oil, as anyone who’s ever filled a gas tank knows, is that it’s a bit of a rollercoaster. Boom, bust, repeat. Chevron, though, they’ve tried to hedge their bets. They’re involved in everything – getting the oil out of the ground, shipping it around, refining it into something vaguely usable, even making the plastic bits that end up in landfills. It’s a vertically integrated behemoth, which basically means they’re covering all the bases, hoping something, anything, will be profitable. It reminds me of my brother’s insistence on learning every instrument in the orchestra. He wasn’t particularly good at any of them, but he figured if one failed, he had eleven others to fall back on.

Yet, beneath this veneer of prosperity, a subtle disquiet lingered. It was not the abundance itself that gave pause, but rather the shadow it cast—a hint of constraint, a whisper of difficulty in maintaining the flow. The true significance of these earnings, it seemed, lay not in what was readily apparent, but in the anxieties barely concealed within the official pronouncements.

The American market, bloated with its own success, had begun to resemble a magnificent, yet precarious, top. Its price-to-earnings ratio, a measure of its collective optimism, had climbed to a height rarely seen outside of moments of collective delusion – the tech bubble, the crisis of ’08, the fever dream of the pandemic years. Now, it stood at a commanding 28, a figure that even the most ardent believers regarded with a touch of unease. The Vanguard S&P 500 ETF, a vessel carrying the hopes of millions, reflected this extravagance, while the Vanguard Information Technology ETF, a shrine to the digital gods, traded at an almost mythical 39 times earnings. The weight of such expectation, it seemed, could only be sustained for so long.

The iShares Gold Trust (IAU) offers a simplicity that appeals to a certain temperament – a direct claim upon the metal itself, held in trust. It is akin to a landowner possessing fertile fields, reaping what the earth provides without the complexities of cultivation. The Global X Silver Miners ETF (SIL), however, represents a different order of engagement. Here, one does not hold the silver, but a share in the fortunes of those who toil to extract it. It is a gamble not merely on the price of the metal, but on the skill, the luck, and the very spirit of the miners themselves. The difference, at its core, is one of direct ownership versus participation in a broader, more precarious enterprise.

Bitcoin, they call it the digital gold. A curious name. It once promised a revolution, a world free from the old ways. A decade ago, it leaped, a twenty-two thousand, seven hundred and seventy percent ascent. A fever dream for those who chased it. But the race is not always to the swift. Lately, it lags behind the dull gleam of gold, fallen a third from its peak. A sobering sight for the believers.

Palantir, you see, has become rather popular with this newfangled “Artificial Intelligence” craze. It’s like giving a particularly bright raven a toolbox – suddenly, everyone wants to know what it can build. Over the last three years, the share price has zoomed upwards, a dizzying climb that would make even a seasoned mountaineer feel queasy. They’ve concocted a rather clever platform, a sort of digital sorting hat, that takes mountains of messy data and turns it into something useful. It’s a bit like alchemy, really, turning base metals into gold, except with numbers instead of lead.

Consider the expenditure over the past decade—a gradual ascent, now culminating in this precipitous leap. It is as if the company, once content to merely build vehicles, has succumbed to a fever dream, a compulsion to engineer not just transportation, but a new form of existence. The burn rate, inevitably, will be considerable. To expect operating cash to sustain this ambition is…naive. It is a gamble, a desperate wager against the cold logic of accounting, driven by a conviction bordering on the messianic.

To be bullish on SoFi is, of course, the easy path. But a truly discerning investor – one who understands that fortunes are rarely built on enthusiasm alone – must look beyond the superficial gloss. There is, as always, a critical metric lurking beneath the surface, a whisper of caution amidst the fanfare.

They dumped 285,400 shares. Every last one. Zeroed out. Like erasing a debt, or a memory. The transaction happened in the fourth quarter of ’25, a period already looking like a bad dream for anyone holding digital promises. The fund’s holdings in ETHA? Dust. The net effect, after the market had its say, was just shy of nine million. A clean break. Almost elegant.

The filing, dated February 2nd, revealed this addition. Not a fanfare, but a notation. As if to say, “Yes, we’ve noticed the need for clean linens persists.” It increased their holdings, incrementally, to a little over one and a half percent of their reported U.S. equity assets. A rounding error, almost, in the grand scheme of things, yet a commitment nonetheless.