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Let us not romanticize this shift. These are not gambles made in the glow of midnight oil lamps, but cold recalibrations by entities that see the world as a spreadsheet. The billionaires trimming Palantir stakes-Ken Griffin’s Citadel, Stanley Druckenmiller’s Duquesne, Ray Dalio’s Bridgewater-are not fleeing failure, but chasing proximity to power. Palantir, for all its government contracts and enterprise mystique, offers no monopoly on the future. Its code may parse petabytes, but it cannot parse certainty.

But the game’s never that simple. The market is a cruel mistress, and the promises of tomorrow rarely survive the morning light. Today, the air around Nebius smells sour. The stock’s taken a dive, down by 7.8%, as if the whole damn thing was built on smoke and mirrors. The headlines are out, guns blazing, warning of an AI bubble ready to pop. And Nebius is caught square in its crosshairs. The dream’s unraveling, and investors are starting to hear the ominous whispers of doubt.

Standard Lithium owns a lithium operation stretching across East Texas and Arkansas-a venture that recently benefited from the government’s “critical materials” panic. You know, the same panic that made every lithium stock rally harder than a teenager asked to clean their room. But today, Standard Lithium decided to throw its shareholders under the bus. Literally. Not metaphorically. There’s video.

A COMPANY THAT SELLS CONNECTIVITY SOLUTIONS LIKE IT’S SELLING HEROIN. SerDes, DSP, chiplets-these are the new narcotics. They’re in data centers, networking gear, and the pockets of executives who think they’re untouchable. The world’s a Wi-Fi hotspot, and Credo’s the provider with a monopoly on the signal.

The SEC, that grand arbiter of finance’s finer points, let slip the news on the same date: Harbor Capital had been trimming its sails in Comfort Systems USA during Q3. The arithmetic is plain as day-$23.58 million vanished from their ledger, and now they hold 9,286 shares worth $7.66 million. A ship’s captain might call it a course correction; a man of the markets might call it a midlife crisis.

Perincheril, our first host of the affair, began the proceedings on Monday with a most generous gesture, elevating his fair-value estimate from £25 (or its American cousin, $25) to a sprightly $40 per share. One might liken it to a gentleman tipping his hat to a passing cloud. The next three days saw Thakkar, Strouse, and Percoco follow suit, their adjustments ranging from the modest (Thakkar’s $16 to $19) to the merely polite (Strouse’s $27 to $29). Yet, for all their numeric derring-do, not one of these estimable souls deigned to bestow a “Buy” rating. Instead, they clung to their existing verdicts-neutral for Perincheril and Strouse, and the equivalent of “Sell” for the others. A most peculiar social dance, to be sure, where the music plays on but no one dares to take the floor.