The Monday Note:
'Twas the night before Christmas, and all through Wall Street,
Not a trader was stirring, there was barely a Tweet;
The charts were all hung on the screens with great care,
In hopes that bull markets might continue to be there;
The investors were nestled all snug in their beds,
While visions of ‘10 baggers’ dance in their heads;
And I, The Blind Squirrel, acorn licqueur at hand,
Had just settled down to review the year's plan,
When out in the dark there arose such a clatter,
I scurried from my drey to check out the matter.
Then to Koyfin and Infinity I flew like a flash,
Firing up those great apps to check for a crash.
The glow of the screens on my cottage wall,
Gave a lustre of mystery to tickers so small,
When what to my incredulous eyes did appear,
But visions of a lightning (but transient!) $TLT rally to start off the year,
With a short-term technical driver, likely lively and quick,
a warm gesture to the acolytes of St. Bart’s that could only come from ‘St. Nick’.
More rapid than eagles, his favored reindeer then came,
And he whistled, and shouted, and called them by name:
"Now, EUROPE! now, CHINA! now, LATAM and GOLD!
On SPACE, On, DEFENSE! On, $FWONK! On, SPYSTRADDLE bold!
To the top of the charts! To the heights of the call!
Now profit! Now profit! Now profit for all!"
As dry leaves before the wild hurricane fly,
When they meet with an obstacle, mount to the sky;
So up the market’s bovine horns the coursers they flew
With a sleigh full of trades and themes, and St. Nicholas too.
While still contemplating debt ceilings, I heard on the roof
The prancing and pawing of each little hoof.
As I drew in my head, and was turning around,
Down the chimney St. Nicholas came with a bound.
He chuckled and said, with a knowing grin,
"Like Congress on Continuing Resolutions, I always win.
This kayfabe nonsense and posture, we already know the end—
The bill gets passed by a whisker, back to extend and pretend!"
He was dressed all in fur, from his head to his foot,
And his clothes were all covered with market soot;
A bundle of predictions o’erflowing from his sack,
More like Druck than Uncle Warren, he opened a chart pack.
The stub of a crayon he held tight in his jaw,
yet could still boom out in a voice that would awe
Like a CBOE pit trader in the heat of the fray;
Bellowing orders just like in ‘The Merc’s heyday.
His gestures were wild, his eyes sharp and keen,
Reminiscent of the futures pit, alas now a lost scene;
He had a round belly that shook with each call,
As if "Buy! Sell! Yours!" still echoed the hall.
He spoke not a word, but went straight to his work,
He filled the portfolios; then turned with a jerk,
And tapping his finger aside his red nose,
Giving me a nod, up the chimney he rose.
But before he left, he shared 🐿️ bias and wisdom anew,
On Europe's potential and PGMs too.
"Don't count out Ye Olde Continent," he said with a grin,
"When pessimism's high, that's the time to jump in!"
He then spoke of car metals, a curious case,
With EVs slowing their breakneck penetration pace.
"PGMs might shine brighter than lithium mines,
As the world of new auto subtly realigns."
Saint Nick paused, then with a twinkle in the eye, says “Your energy stocks have struggled, but do not say goodbye.
American refineries and 7G drill ships will hold their ground,
Their value enduring, as replacements won't be built or found.
Though this year has been tough, please don’t sell the low,
For these stalwarts of energy have much more to show.
In the depths of the market, opportunity is surely near,
As demand rebounds, margins and day rates shift gear."
Then he warned of a shift in the accounting game,
Where GAAP might at last regain its long-lost fame.
"Creative bookkeeping by those SaaS boys will soon lose the allure,
As Mr. Market demands numbers more clean and more pure."
He paused for a moment, his eyes gleaming bright,
And spoke of the grains with newfound insight:
"Two years of no bread for Chicago wheat (and corn),
While those breakfast commodities - OJ, Coffee, Cocoa and pork belly - have partied through the storm.
But watch for the winds of change to blow,
As Russian harvests might further stumble and slow.
Weather's fickle nature could turn the tide,
Giving $ZW, $ZC and maybe even $ZS a chance to finally enjoy the ride.”
On AI he mused, with a thoughtful air,
"The race for model improvement might need repair.
As the LLMs slow their breakneck advancement pace,
Hyper-scalers' spending may fall to give investor breathing space.
Perhaps it's time - heaven forbid! - for revenues to bloom,
As cloud capex slows its relentless zoom.
The balance may shift in this high-tech game,
As profits and growth move closer to the same."
Then he turned to utilities, a cautionary tale,
Of investors chasing an AI-powered sail.
"The XLU's rise has gone too far, I fear,
Its gains from last year may soon disappear.
The AI narrative, though bright and new,
Has pushed these stocks way beyond what should be due.
A correction looms, mark my word,
As reality checks what the market hath heard.”
His brow then furrowed, a concern to share,
Of a 'Golden Age of Grift' in the market air.
"SPACs and Fartcoins are back on the scene,
A return to Scamath-madness, if you know what I mean.
Volatility and craziness, they're here to stay,
As the Saylors and dreamers all have their say.
Be wary, be watchful, don't get caught in the game,
For in this wild market, few things stay the same."
Then he chuckled and said, with a shake of his head,
"Like you 🐿️, those gig economy stocks fill me with dread.
DoorDash and InstaCart, they deliver no gain,
Their business models frankly drive me insane!
I deliver gifts for free, with joy and with cheer,
But these companies surely won't profit, year after year.
The Blind Squirrel knows, as do I, it's quite clear,
In the just delivery game, true profits struggle to appear!"
With that, he sprang back to his sleigh, to his team gave a whistle,
And away they all flew like the down of a thistle.
But I heard him exclaim, ere he drove out of sight—
"HAPPY INVESTING TO ALL, AND TO ALL A GOOD NIGHT!"
Wishing all my readers the very best for the holiday season as well as kind favor from the market gods in the new year to come. In Section Two, the 🐿️ delivers a couple of ‘stocking filler’ trade ideas for his wonderful premium members, including the potential for a ‘Harley Hat Trick’. For those of you not ready to join those members yet, how about a festive (non-edible!) like or share?
ICYMI, Kevin Muir,
and I sat for a chat down last Wednesday (during Powell’s FOMC presser!). We had a wide-ranging chat on the outlook for 2025, blissfully unaware the Fed Chair was in full ‘Bad Santa’ / ‘lump of coal delivery’ mode while we chatted. Enjoy!Music from Max Slorach. Find him at:
email: maxonsaxentertainment@gmail.com / web: maxonsax.com.au
Thanks for listening!
Squirrel Out!
If you act on anything provided in this newsletter, you agree to the terms in this disclaimer. Everything in this newsletter is for educational and entertainment purposes only and NOT investment advice. Nothing in this newsletter is an offer to sell or to buy any security. The author is not responsible for any financial loss you may incur by acting on any information provided in this newsletter. Before making any investment decisions, talk to a financial advisor.
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