$CRWV ER and read through for $NBIS and other Neoclouds: “We have 10x as much qualified demand as available capacity”. - interest in 2028 capacity already amounts to several times what CoreWeave has available - CoreWeave raised prices by 25% in July, +10% later in Q3, and more to come in Q4 - Ampere and Hopper rental pricing rose 30–50% quarter over quarter (older GPUs) - better financing conditions (higher prepayments, lower interest 7–7.5% for new loans) - positive adjusted net income in the first half of 2028. So we’re seeing higher pricing esp. for older GPUs…better financing mechanics, and extreme demand imbalance where you have 10x demand > supply. Same issues are there for this company in specific with interest rates, but I’d argue other Neoclouds are in a better spot. But it’s wild to witness AI infrastructure names crash while demand keeps growing

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Punch has no idea who David Muir is. He doesn't know that in February, the anchor of ABC's World News Tonight told all of America, on the evening news, that a baby monkey in Japan had made a friend. He doesn't know the Phoenix Zoo gave a young ape named Bodie a stuffed orangutan, in his honor. He doesn't know that somebody watching typed "Punch for President." He's a monkey. He knows two things. His keepers. And the orangutan. In Japan, we call her Oran-Mama. He was the only baby born on that monkey mountain in 2025. His mother couldn't raise him. For his first months, the softest thing in his whole world came from IKEA. This year, the babies came. Five by May. Last month, the monkey mountain reopened, and the zoo posted new photos. A baby running full speed, leaping onto Punch's back. Punch letting it ride. Punch is somebody's Oran-Mama now. America, he will never know you were rooting for him. You did it anyway. That's kind of your whole thing.

My cousin has trained beside American soldiers for nineteen years. He's a sergeant in Japan's Ground Self-Defense Force, which is, basically, our army. He's trained with your soldiers in Washington state, with your Marines in California, and with both of them at home in Japan. Last month, I asked him to ask the men in his unit one question. Forty of them answered. "What did the Americans teach you that isn't in any manual?" Japanese soldiers have a manual for everything. This was a hard question. "They sing while they run. Loudly. Badly. About things I will not translate for my mother." (Private first class, 23) "I gave a Marine a pickled plum. He made a face like he'd been shot. Then he asked for another one. Now his whole platoon calls me 'Plum.'" (Corporal, 26. California.) "In our army, a private does not ask an officer why. I watched an American private ask his captain why. The captain explained. The private had a better idea. They used it. I thought about that for a year." (Lieutenant, 29. Washington.) "Every night in the tents, they passed around photos of their kids like baseball cards. In three weeks, I learned the names of eleven American children. I have never met them. I still wonder how they're doing." (Sergeant first class, 38) "On Thanksgiving, an American sergeant took two of us home to his family. His grandmother sent us back to base with a plate for every man in our squad. Eleven plates. Foil on every one. Our commander wrote her a thank-you letter in very formal English. She wrote back, 'Anytime, sweetheart.'" (Private, 21. California.) Then my cousin asked the oldest man in the unit. The sergeant major. He's 54. Thirty-two years in uniform. In 1994, he was a 22-year-old private on the very first joint exercise in Washington state. On the second week, on a long march through the hills, he couldn't keep up. His legs were gone. He was about to fall out in front of the Americans, which for a young Japanese soldier is worse than dying. An American staff sergeant named Odell dropped back next to him, unbuckled his pack, and swung it onto his own shoulders. He carried two packs for six miles. He didn't say a word. At the end, the private tried to thank him, bowing, in terrible English. Odell looked confused. "What pack?" On the last day, Odell shook his hand and told him one thing. "Someday, you carry somebody's. That's how you pay me back." On New Year's Day 2024, a huge earthquake hit the Noto Peninsula. The sergeant major's unit went in. The roads were broken. Houses were down. Snow. He found an old woman, 86, sitting alone outside what had been her house. No way down but a road that wasn't a road anymore. He put her on his back and carried her three kilometers down the mountain. He says he could hear one voice in his head the whole way. In English. Last month, thirty years late, he tracked down Odell through some old exercise buddies. Retired. 61. South Dakota. He sent one message. He told him about the old woman. He told him he had finally paid him back. At three in the morning, Japan time, the reply came. "Told you, Private."

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