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Let me tell you, no fewer than ten analysts decided Wendy’s was suddenly less appetizing than a week-old bagel. Ten! That’s a whole minyan of pessimism. And these weren’t just any analysts, mind you. We’re talking about the big kahunas at Goldman Sachs and Morgan Stanley. Christine Cho at Goldman lowered her target from $8 to a measly $7—practically pennies, folks!—while still advising folks to sell. Sell! The nerve! Brian Harbour at Morgan Stanley did the same, snipping his target to $8. It’s like they’re all auditioning for a role in a tragic play.

For years and years – since 1957, can you believe it? – this index has been growing at a rate of 10.6% a year. Not bad, eh? Though last year it went a bit bonkers, shooting up 17.8% thanks to a new craze called ‘Artificial Intelligence’ – machines pretending to be clever. It’s had a bit of a wobble recently, but it’s still awfully close to its highest ever point. A bit like a wobbly jelly, really.

Two such currents call to us. One, a reborn titan, shedding the weight of its past to embrace the future. The other, a deep earth force, awakened from a long slumber. Let us consider them, not as mere stocks, but as stories unfolding.

But the currents shift, as they always do. The year 2026 finds this trend subtly, almost mournfully, reversing. The relentless march of price increases, even in these ostensibly efficient establishments, has prompted a quiet return to the more traditional dining halls – the Chili’s, under the umbrella of Brinker International (EAT +1.38%). A curious spectacle, this resurgence of the familiar, and a testament to the enduring power of value, or perhaps, simply, habit. Brinker’s stock, one observes, has enjoyed a most respectable ascent – a threefold increase in the past three years – while Chipotle, once so ascendant, finds itself somewhat diminished, a shadow of its former self.

It seems to be the latter, mostly. They reiterated their existing guidance. Which, in financial speak, means ‘we haven’t magically found a way to make things better, so expect more of the same.’ Investors, naturally, weren’t thrilled. It’s like when you’re hoping for a promotion and your boss just says, “Keep doing what you’re doing.” Encouraging, in a deeply underwhelming way.

In the year of Our Lord 2025, Duolingo, with a flourish of digital trumpets, unleashed these AI-powered features. Conversational tools, they called them, woven into the higher tiers of subscription. The product, undeniably, improved. Engagement… strengthened, like a peasant’s grip on a newly acquired samovar. The premium tiers, predictably, began to attract those willing to part with a few kopecks more. But beneath this surface of progress, a more subtle transformation was taking place, a shifting of the economic sands.

These aren’t cheap, mind you. The clever sorts have already sniffed out the potential, like pigs rooting for truffles. But there’s still a chance to jump in before the real cash starts pouring in, like a chocolate waterfall.

The prevailing narrative suggests a catalyst for growth. A naive optimism, readily dismissed. The sheer magnitude of Amazon – a market capitalization exceeding two trillion units of account – operates as a form of statistical camouflage. Any success within this digital empire, however significant in absolute terms, risks being absorbed into the general noise, lost within the labyrinthine corridors of its balance sheet. To seek a discernible impact from this particular venture – an AI content exchange – is akin to searching for a specific grain of sand on a boundless beach.