Nvidia: The Edge of the Singularity (and My Sanity)

The air is thick with silicon and desperation. Nvidia. The name itself feels like a coded message from the future, or possibly a warning. They report earnings Wednesday. Feb. 25. A date that will LIVE IN INFAMY…at least in the minds of day traders and algorithm-obsessed hedge fund managers. $4.7 TRILLION. That’s the market cap. Let that number sink in. It’s enough to buy several small countries, fund a moon colony, and still have change left over for a REALLY good bottle of Scotch. The pressure is…palpable. This isn’t investing anymore, it’s a high-stakes game of digital chicken played with the fate of the global economy.

The numbers, of course, are obscene. Revenue up 62% year-over-year. 66% in the data center alone. They’re practically printing money, fueled by the insatiable hunger for AI. It’s an accelerating curve, a runaway train, and I’m standing on the tracks with a half-empty glass of something amber and a growing sense of dread. They’re selling shovels to the gold rush, only this time the gold is data, and the rush is towards…well, nobody really knows. The clouds are sold out, Colette Kress said. SOLD OUT. Like there’s a limited supply of digital space? This is the stuff of nightmares, people. Pure, unadulterated technological delirium.

The Beast is Fed

They’re talking about Blackwell, Hopper, Ampere…a litany of silicon gods. It’s all Greek to me, honestly. Or maybe it’s all silicon to me. The point is, they’re building something HUGE, something that could reshape reality as we know it. And they want MY money. They want ALL our money. They’re building a digital empire, one GPU at a time. The profit margins? 73.4%. It’s enough to make a socialist weep. Or a capitalist plotz. Either way, it’s… unsettling.

The guidance for Q4? $65 billion. Plus or minus 2%. It’s not a forecast; it’s a declaration of war. A war on logic, on reason, on the very concept of sustainable growth. They’re promising the moon, and they expect us to believe they can deliver. And the market? The market is lapping it up like a thirsty dog. A rabid, algorithm-driven dog.

The Price of Admission

Here’s the rub. 48 times earnings. FORTY-EIGHT TIMES. That’s not a valuation; it’s a prayer. A desperate plea to the market gods. It’s assuming perfection, an endless stream of innovation, and a complete absence of competition. It’s betting on the singularity, and frankly, I’m not sure I believe in the singularity. I believe in gravity, in entropy, in the inevitable crash. And when that crash comes, it will be GLORIOUS. Horrifying, but glorious.

I need a margin of safety, a buffer against the madness. I want to be able to forecast a 15% annual return without having to invoke the ghost of Alan Turing. At this price? Forget it. It’s a fool’s errand. A gambler’s delusion. I’m not saying Nvidia is a bad company. It’s a magnificent, terrifying machine. But it’s also ridiculously overpriced. And I’m not about to throw good money after bad, just to join the herd.

Look, I can admire the beast without feeding it. I can appreciate the engineering marvel without mortgaging my future. I’m staying on the sidelines. Deploying my capital elsewhere. Somewhere…sane. Maybe into gold. Or whiskey. Or a small island where I can escape the digital apocalypse.

Don’t mistake my caution for a prediction. I have no idea what the stock will do after earnings. It could go up. It could go down. It could launch into orbit. Frankly, I don’t care. I just want a better price. A price that reflects reality, not fantasy. A price that allows me to sleep at night. Is that too much to ask?

This isn’t about predicting the future. It’s about protecting my sanity. And in this age of artificial intelligence and algorithmic trading, sanity is a precious commodity indeed.

2026-02-25 09:13

The Beast is Fed

The Price of Admission

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