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I began with CPI, but as usual, I ended up somewhere between Beethoven and gold. The headline CPI 3%, core the same. The whisper was higher. The market calls it “Goldilocks.” Not too hot, not too cold. I call it “Never be a dick for a tick.”

That’s how you survive this racket. Everyone obsesses over decimals while the system quietly breaks and remakes itself. The models are wrong, the Fed’s neutral rate misplaced, and shelter data a bad joke.

Markets have music. Sometimes off key, sometimes perfect pitch. Beethoven wrote his best symphonies when he couldn’t hear. Euler saw math more clearly after he went blind. My best trades happen when I stop staring and listen. Markets are sound before they’re numbers.

Then someone messages me: “Copper, all the way.” I laugh. NVIDIA doesn’t need a century of copper. The chips use little. The heavy copper is in data centers, transformers, cables feeding the AI gods. One megawatt of data power needs twenty-seven tons. There’s a story there, but not the one the hype merchants sell.

Copper is pregnant in expectation. It mirrors the world’s mood and that mood is uncertainty. The charts show past booms and fatigue. The next leg will come from real demand, from grids and wires that make the world hum.

Gold refuses to fade. I mocked it before, but I’m giving it credit. Maybe this rise is necessary, the price to end mercantilist misery. China’s citizens buy stablecoins and gold to escape the red cabbage trap. They know seven cabbage for a dollar is a steal.

America sits on 262 million troy ounces. At ten thousand an ounce, that’s 2.5 trillion in fiscal firepower. While everyone says “Rome is falling,” they’re wrong. This isn’t the fall of America; it’s the fall of Chinese communism.

Russia produces forty percent of global palladium, quiet leverage no one mentions. Even Trump treads carefully. Geopolitics meets gigawatts. Metals and power are the same story.

I’ve talked CPI, Beethoven, copper, gold, palladium, geopolitics. A full orchestra. I never promised coherence, only curiosity. The market, like life, is a fuzzy cloud. You don’t predict it. You play with it.

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