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Ah, but therein lies the rub. While I was busy battling the tides of technological chaos, Apple had its own battles to wage-namely, against tariffs that could reshape the landscape of our collective investment hopes. When the news broke, I half expected to see a sobering video-one of those overly polished presentations filled with graphs and jargon designed to impress only the most sleep-deprived of board members. Yet here I am, post-Apple unveiling, reflecting on how their assessment might redefine our expectations. The absurdity isn’t lost on me; it’s an existential crisis wrapped in a financial one.

Now, as any seasoned observer of markets will tell you-or would if they weren’t too busy trying to decipher what on Earth “adjusted EBITDA” actually means-the question isn’t whether Caterpillar is poised for change. The real question is whether this particular metamorphosis will result in a butterfly or one of those slightly alarming moths that dive-bomb your bedside lamp at 3 a.m.

With about 62% of its portfolio in these names-even my non-famous cousin who, honestly, makes terrible decisions, knows not to put all her eggs in one celebrity basket-this ETF is banking hard on the continued dominance of the tech titans. So imagine you’re a wealth builder (ah, my favorite hat, right after “Pizza Lover”): Is this a smart track to fast cash or the financial equivalent of joining a reality dating show for “long-term love”?

They say they sold 40,712 UPS shares in Q2 2025; fair enough-no one keeps receipts for their exes either. This transaction represents a petite 1.0% slice of their reportable assets, nudging into the lowly realm of 0.9579% for those who obsess over rounding.

Consider this paradox: the position once constituted 1.66% of their reportable assets, a percentage that evaporated into the void like dew beneath the midday sun. The transaction, recorded in the annals of the Securities and Exchange Commission, now exists as a palimpsest of erased intentions. The shares, like the proverbial ship of Theseus, have been disassembled molecule by molecule until nothing remains but the ghost of their former valuation.

Let us pause here to consider the sheer improbability of uranium enrichment becoming a growth industry in the 21st century – a time when most civilizations with functioning internet access have collectively agreed that nuclear meltdowns are best left to HBO docudramas. And yet, here we are, watching shares in a company that literally deals in splitting atoms rise faster than a teakettle in a supernova (1).

The analysts of the School of Salamanca, those cartographers of capital, whisper that this ascent is no accident. They cite the company’s “self-replicating algorithms,” a term which, when unpacked, reveals a labyrinth of neural networks training themselves to anticipate desire itself. One might say the machine has become a mirror, reflecting futures we have not yet dared to imagine, yet already inhabit.