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A sum of no small consequence – three and a half million shares – was cast aside, representing a diminution of ninety-four and a half million dollars in value. One might ponder, dear reader, if this was a prudent retreat from a failing venture, or merely a shifting of allegiances to more promising diversions? The fund, it appears, once held a considerable portion – nearly twelve and eight tenths of a percent – of its entire wealth within the walls of Caesars’ empire. Now, that space is left vacant, a stage emptied of a principal player.

Last year, the company unveiled Blackwell and Rubin, names that resonate with a certain austere poetry, like the titles of forgotten symphonies. They spoke of quantum realms, of a Boston laboratory dedicated to unraveling the universe’s deepest secrets. It felt, for a moment, as if the pursuit of knowledge had found a new, and decidedly profitable, home.

It is a strange thing, this dismissal of a company so firmly entrenched. They have built a fortress of software around the lives of millions, from the simplest tax filings to the complex bookkeeping of small businesses. Yet, the wolves of Wall Street circle, sniffing for weakness. It suggests a deeper discontent, a questioning of the very foundations upon which these empires are built.

Turns out, the shiny stuff itself is doing the cha-cha downwards. Gold, silver… they’re both taking a hit. It’s enough to make a quantitative analyst weep into his spreadsheet. And Coeur, bless its heart, mines both. Double the trouble, double the… well, you get the idea.

You see, there’s a dust-up brewin’ over yonder, and folks are gettin’ skittish. It’s a tale as old as time, really – humans squabblin’ over dirt and pride. And when humans squabble, markets quiver. Despite this little dip, Intel’s still managed a tidy gain of some seventeen percent this year. A remarkable feat, considerin’ the general state of affairs, and a testament to the public’s unwavering faith in… well, progress, I reckon.

But the price of metal decided to disagree with the script. Gold and silver are both shedding value like a bad memory, and Barrick is getting dragged down with them. Silver gets a look-in too, naturally. It always does.

It began with a flourish, of course. The IPO in December 2020, a frenzied ascent to $161… a momentary delusion of grandeur. Then, the inevitable descent. A slow, agonizing bleed, punctuated by false hopes and fleeting recoveries. Now, trading at a mere $8, it lingers at the precipice, a stark reminder that even the most promising innovations are subject to the cruelties of fate… and the even crueler whims of investors. The departure of its founder, Thomas Siebel, attributed to health concerns, feels less like a natural transition and more like the severing of a vital nerve. A man who understood the beast, now absent from the arena.

They had a quarter, a recent one, where everything was “record-breaking.” Record-breaking! As if that’s actually good. It just means they’re keeping score, and that’s always a bad sign. And they’re predicting more of this “record-breaking” stuff. It’s exhausting just hearing about it. Like, can’t they just have a perfectly adequate quarter? Is that too much to ask?

Now, there’s talk of further cuts, especially if the current High Priest of the Federal Reserve is replaced by a fellow named Warsh.¹ And, of course, the geopolitical situation is… let’s just say it’s complicated.² Which means that a bit of defensive positioning is, shall we say, prudent. So, if you’re looking for a couple of stocks that won’t vanish in a puff of smoke when the dragon gets grumpy, consider these two: AT&T (T +1.91%) and Philip Morris International (PM 3.89%). They’re not glamorous, mind you. But then, neither is a well-maintained ledger.

Kontoor, born from the venerable, yet fractured, V.F. Corp, carried within it the weight of generations of denim and workwear. Brands like Wrangler, weathered and true, and Lee, striving to recapture a forgotten elegance. But it was the acquisition of Helly Hansen, a name that tasted of salt spray and northern winds, in June of that year, that seemed to unlock something hidden within the company’s soul. It was as if a restless spirit, long confined to the plains and workshops, had finally found its way to the open sea.