In the wake of this disappointment, Fluor’s stock was whipped into a frenzy, tumbling by a staggering 23.5% in August alone. Such is the fate of the company, it seems, as it took a momentary plunge into the depths of valuation despair. But-ah!-amidst the chaos, a small green flag flickers faintly, as though some benevolent spirit has cast a distant ray of hope over the scene.
Consider Lululemon Athletica (LULU), Novo Nordisk (NVO), and United Parcel Service (UPS). They’re not just trading near their 52-week lows-they’re haunting price points not seen since the Obama administration. Or, as I like to call it, “the last time I had a functioning financial plan.”
Initially, the company had planned to offer but $250 million worth of “convertible senior notes due 2030,” a sum modest enough to raise eyebrows yet not inspire alarm. However, demand proved so vigorous-an unanticipated ardor-that the offering swelled to $300 million before the morning sun had reached its zenith. One might almost suspect the market of harboring a secret affection for lunar endeavors.
Three titans of the digital age-ASML, CrowdStrike, and ServiceNow-stand sentinel over this landscape, their dominions carved not by swords, but by silicon and code. To invest in them is to place a wager on the invisible scaffolding of modernity, a scaffolding that binds humanity to its own creations. Let us examine these architects, their tools, and the weight of their silent sovereignty.
Ah, commodities-those capricious creatures. They rise and fall like the tides, without concern for the fleeting worries of mortal men. When the price of oil and gas surged in the wake of the pandemic, Wall Street’s eyes sparkled with the promise of wealth, and oil companies saw their shares soar. But as surely as day turns to night, the prices began their descent, and with them, the fortunes of many. Chevron, too, has been caught in this unforgiving cycle, its share price falling victim to the ebb and flow of the energy market.
This statistical indiscretion left the markets trembling, as whispers circulated that the Federal Reserve might keep interest rates perched atop their lofty throne even longer. Risk assets-particularly those most beloved by insomniacs and Twitter prophets, like cryptocurrencies-suffered under this monetary melodrama.
Cellebrite sells software that helps people-good people, bad people, who knows?-solve mysteries hidden in phones and computers. Governments love it. Corporations love it. Even criminals probably love it, though they might not admit it. Revenue grew by 18% year over year, which is nice work if you can get it. The annualized recurring revenue climbed even faster, at 21%. So it goes.
Madame Wood, that modern-day Alceste of capital allocation, has added TTD to her portfolio’s periphery. A mere trifle in her flagship fund, yet the gesture speaks volumes. When a stock plunges like a drunkard down a flight of stairs, to buy is either madness or masterstroke. Let us consult the script of The Trade Desk’s latest act to discern which.
Let us pour ourselves a dry martini, adjust our monocles, and examine whether UPS deserves a place in our portfolio-or if it should be sent back to sender.
This enterprise traffics in iBuying, a peculiar form of house-flipping which demands not merely capital but an almost Faustian pact with liquidity itself. In halcyon days past, when housing markets frolicked like lambs under azure skies, Opendoor thrived; alas, those verdant pastures have since turned to arid plains, and growth has become as elusive as a shadow at noon.