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The divestment, meticulously documented in an SEC filing, confirms what many already suspected: Sable Offshore is not so much a company as a cautionary tale. The fund’s withdrawal represents not merely a financial transaction, but a silent indictment of a business model built on hope and, one suspects, a generous helping of delusion. To lose one billion may be regarded as a misfortune; to lose two looks like carelessness, and Sable Offshore appears to be rapidly approaching the latter.

On February 27th, 2026, Mr. Hoglund acquired 2,000 shares of Middlesex Water, a purchase amounting to approximately $109,000.¹ A not inconsiderable sum, even in an age where fortunes are made and lost on the whim of algorithms and the pronouncements of oracles (also known as financial analysts). The transaction, dutifully recorded on the SEC Form 4, suggests a degree of confidence in the company’s prospects. Or, perhaps, a desire to signal that confidence to the wider market. It’s a game as old as commerce itself – the subtle art of influencing perception through carefully timed investments.

And then I read this thing – Bespoke Investment Group, very official sounding – and apparently the Dow has had ten consecutive months of gains. Ten! That’s…unusual. Like finding a matching pair of socks after laundry day. They say it’s only happened six times in the last 130 years. Which, frankly, is a long time to be keeping track of stock market streaks. Units of Cryptocurrency Lost: 12. Hours Spent Watching Charts: 9. Number of Panicked Texts to Friends: 24. It’s all a bit much, really.

The stipulated price—$15 per share—represents a diminution of 13% from the valuation recorded on Friday. A seemingly arbitrary figure, yet one that dictates the fate of countless accounts, each a miniature bureaucracy unto itself.

The numbers, of course, tell a tale. Net sales up 12%? Commendable, if predictable. Operating margin nudging upwards? A polite cough from the accounting department. EPS growth of 30%? A perfectly respectable figure, though hardly enough to set the champagne flowing. It’s all rather… orderly. One begins to suspect a certain lack of daring.

Beyond Meat, as of late, hasn’t been doing so hot. Shares are down 73% in the last year. Seventy-three percent. That’s a lot of vanished hope. A lot of dreams dissolving into the ether. It surged briefly in October, a little hiccup in the grand scheme of things, but mostly it’s been a decline. So it goes.

The SEC filings, those dreary chronicles of financial maneuvering, reveal that Cooper Creek reduced its holding by 6,030,588 shares during the last quarter. A sum not inconsiderable, though one dares say, in the grand theatre of capital, merely a fleeting gesture. The remaining stake, amounting to $59.50 million, represents a diminution of $71.00 million when accounting for both sales and the capricious whims of the market. It is a reminder that even the most carefully constructed portfolios are subject to the vagaries of fortune, and the occasional need for a touch of austerity.

The stock experienced a considerable ascent shortly after the opening of trade, only to relinquish those gains with a promptness that might have startled even the most seasoned observer. Reports circulated, via Space News, concerning the potential loss of a contract with the Space Force – a sum of approximately $1.4 billion – as the Pentagon, in a display of what one might term a desire for broader acquaintance, intends to reopen the bidding process. Such a maneuver, though perhaps intended as prudent, introduces a degree of uncertainty that few enterprises can bear with equanimity.

The numbers, for those still clinging to reality: Q4 revenue up 192.8% to $4.45 billion. Earnings per share, a respectable 24.2% bump to $0.41. Fine. But let’s cut the crap. Qatar shuts down its LNG facilities because some Iranian drones are buzzing around. FORTY-ONE PERCENT spike in Dutch TTF, the European gas price. This isn’t a market correction; it’s a goddamn panic. And Venture Global? They’re sitting pretty, poised to scoop up the fallout like vultures on a sun-baked highway.