$PLTR
Palantir just put up one of the strongest earnings we have seen throughout the entire stock market. The level of growth across core metrics that the street did not expect to grow and the ability to do it in the face of the narrative that software companies have no terminal value is what makes this quarter so incredible.
Revenue accelerated 85% YoY against expectations of 74%. They raised the FY guide from 61% to 71%. They did more FCF this quarter than they did in revenue in Q1 last year.
They did this with a salesforce of around 70 people...most software companies at their scale have 100x that amount of dedicated staff working on sales, so how are they able to grow this fast? How is Alex Karp so easily able to guide that they will accelerate to 100% growth in 2027?
Palantir is actually doing what software companies have promised to do, but as of recent have failed to materialize: providing value that transforms an enterprise.
A quote from Shyam, CTO, last night:
"More tokens means more slop. And the more commodity cognition you consume, the more you need a system that can prevent the economic harm so you can harness the economic value. That system is AIP. That intermediary representation is the ontology. This is also why we are seeing the death of legacy software. AIP replaces static workflows not by replicating the playbook but by eliminating the need for one."
Palantir is acknowledging that traditional legacy software is dead in the age of AI, but the orchestration of providing business value to ground the truth of the organization within the representation of how that value is constructed (the ontology, what they spent 20 years building) is the defining factor to make AI meaningful.
The results prove this. How is a company doing almost 2B in revenue with just 1000 customers? Their net dollar retention has now passed 150%, which means their customers are choosing to spend more with them because they are getting more value. Imagine what happens when Palantir is at 10,000 and 100,000 customers. This can be one of the biggest companies on Planet Earth as everytime they get a customer, they provide so much value, that the customers locks in and stays with them and pays them more and Palantir is able to create an incredible margin (53% net income) on every dollar the generate because they don't need to pay all the people in the middle, like a salesforce, to generate that revenue.
The company increased their FY guide to 7.6B. Alex Karp said he wants to grow that 100% in 2027. That would put the company at around 15B. If they beat that estimate, we could be even higher. The debate right now is purely around one thing: the sustainability of this type of growth. If you think it is sustainable, you are bullish. If not, you are bearish.
Palantir can't control everything that happens in the macro or the market but they can control how fast they can grow. These earnings make it very, very obvious to me that they will not only sustainably grow, but they will continue to accelerate that growth because their customers are continuing to ask for more from them and as they continue to deliver, they continue to see the benefits of bringing value to enterprises and governments across the world.
Incredibly proud to be on the journey of covering them and I know how special this quarter must have been for those of us who saw the company grow up in front of our eyes over the past few years.
LFG.
In China, Seven dogs stolen from their owners have gone viral after escaping from an illegal transport truck and making their way home. They traveled 10.5 miles/17 km together, led by a corgi across highways and fields, now safely back with their respective owners.
New Article
There is a massive difference between taking a large initial position and allowing a position to become large. Few investors understand this distinction.
https://t.co/hxHNHYqor8
JUNE 2028.
The S&P is down 38% from its highs. Unemployment just printed 10.2%. Private credit is unraveling. Prime mortgages are cracking. AI didn’t disappoint. It exceeded every expectation.
What happened?
https://t.co/JzzwCrbJgS
🚨🚨 Temba Bavuma on name calling:
"I have been called a lot of names in my life, some names hurt(choker, quota, bauna). But the name I've been called the most is Temba.
My grandma named me Temba becayse it means "Hope", hope for our community".
❤️🥺
My name is Marge, and I’m 72 years old. I’m a retired third-grade teacher. I live in the same beige ranch house in a quiet Ohio suburb where I raised my daughter, fought with my husband Bill (God rest his soul) about the mortgage, and watched the neighborhood change from young families to... well, to people like me. Old.
After Bill died, I thought I’d become invisible. I was just the old lady with the wind chimes and the overgrown tomato plants. People waved as they power-walked by, but they didn’t see me.
That changed on a hot, sticky Tuesday in August.
I was dragging my recycling bin to the curb when I saw him. A boy. Couldn't have been more than ten. He was rail-thin, with elbows that looked sharp enough to cut glass, digging through my bin. He wasn't looking for cans; he was looking for food.
He froze when he saw me, like a deer in the headlights, his eyes wide with that specific shame only hunger brings.
I’m a retired teacher. I’ve seen that look before.
I didn't yell. I didn't threaten to call the police. I just held up a finger, went back inside, and made the quickest sandwich of my life—peanut butter and jelly on white bread. I grabbed a bottle of water from the fridge and walked back out.
He flinched when I got close. I just set the food down on top of the bin.
"It's for you," I said softly.
He snatched it and ran. He didn't say a word.
That night, I didn't sleep. I kept seeing those eyes. This isn't a third-world country. This is Ohio. Kids shouldn't be eating trash.
The next morning, I raided my garage. I found the old Igloo cooler we used to take on fishing trips. I dragged it to the end of my driveway, right by the sidewalk. With a black Sharpie, I wrote on it:
"Take what you need. Share what you can."
I filled it with bottled water, granola bars, apples, and six more PB&J sandwiches in Ziploc bags.
By Friday, the cooler was empty. So I filled it again.
On Sunday, I went out and found the sandwiches gone, but someone had left two cans of tuna and a bag of rice.
On Monday, someone left a pack of diapers and a box of tampons. By Wednesday, a local veteran had left a stack of new thermal socks with a note: "Stay warm, brother."
A tiny, anonymous community was being born at the end of my driveway.
Of course, that's when Brenda showed up.
Brenda lives three doors down. She's the president of the Homeowners' Association and carries a clipboard on her daily walks. She stopped right in front of the cooler, her face pinched.
"Marge, what is this?"
"It's a cooler, Brenda."
"You're attracting... elements," she said, lowering her voice. "It's a liability. It's lowering our property values. We have standards in this neighborhood."
I looked Brenda, a woman who has never missed a meal in her life, straight in the eye. "I saw a child eating out of my garbage can, Brenda. My property value is the last thing on my mind."
She huffed and marched off, clipboard in hand.
A week later, it went viral.
Some high school kid filmed the cooler, now overflowing with canned goods, bread, and baby formula. He put it on TikTok. By the weekend, I was "The Pantry Granny."
Reporters showed up. A local church donated a small, used dormitory refrigerator. A hardware store ran an extension cord from my garage for free. Kids from the high school art club came and painted it with sunflowers.
A GoFundMe someone started raised $15,000 for "Marge's Pantry."
But with national attention came local backlash. The comments on the news articles were a warzone. Half were, "God bless this woman!" The other half were, "You're just enabling drug addicts and the lazy! You'll be sorry when you get robbed!"
Then the letter arrived.
It was from the Township Zoning Board. Brenda and a few others had filed a formal complaint.
I was invited to a public meeting. It was a kangaroo court. They didn't talk about hunger. They talked about "health code violations," "risk of vermin," and "unregulated food distribution."
"We need standards," one man said, adjusting his tie. "We cannot have individuals running rogue charities on residential property. It's a safety issue."
The motion to ban "all personal food and item distribution on residential lots" passed. 9 to 2.
They gave me 48 hours to remove the fridge and the cooler. Or I would face fines of $500 a day.
I went home and cried. I cried for Bill. I cried for that skinny kid. I cried because I finally understood: this is the country we live in now. A place where you need a permit to be decent.
I unplugged the fridge, defeated. I thought kindness had lost.
The next morning, I woke up before sunrise. I looked out my window, and my heart stopped.
The fridge was still there.
And next to it were two more.
One was an old chest freezer. The other was a large metal cabinet.
Mr. Henderson from two streets over—the one with the massive "TRUMP 2024" flag on his lawn—was plugging the freezer into a heavy-duty extension cord he'd run from his own garage.
At the same time, the two college kids who rent the house on the corner—the ones with the "PRIDE" flag on their porch—were loading the metal cabinet with canned soup.
They weren't talking to each other. They were just... working.
By the time I got outside with my coffee, my entire lawn was covered in signs. Homemade. Scrawled on cardboard and poster board.
"WE ARE ALL MARGE." "FEED FIRST. ASK QUESTIONS LATER." "HUNGER ISN'T A NUISANCE."
The city sent the first $500 fine. The GoFundMe paid it in three minutes. They sent another. It was paid in two.
I never fought the citations. I just pulled up a lawn chair.
Every morning, I sit by the fridges. I offer coffee to people who stop by. I listen to their stories. I watch strangers argue about politics while stocking the same shelf with pasta.
Last week, the boy came back.
He looked different. Taller. He had a new jacket on. He told me he and his mom were in a shelter now, and he was back in school.
He didn't take anything.
He handed me a small, brown paper bag. Inside was a ham and cheese sandwich.
"It's for the next kid," he whispered.
You don't need permission to be kind. You don't need a permit, or a nonprofit license, or a committee.
You just need to see the person in front of you.
They can write all the ordinances they want. They can fine you. But they can't make it illegal to see another human being.
Kindness isn't a program. It's a revolution.
And mine started with a sandwich.
Introducing: Rising Dynasty 🌍
A global movement for the middle class to reclaim control, build generational wealth, and write its own future.
Powered by conviction. Powered by discipline. Powered by EMJ. 🚀
BREAKING: Tesla, $TSLA, offers Elon Musk a pay package valued as much as $1 trillion.
If fully realized, this would be the CEO largest pay package in history.
I was wrong.
There is a God. His name is Mohammed Siraj...
5/104 in 30.1 overs out of 85.1
At the end of a series in which he has bowled and bowled and bowled on some very flat pitches...
Monumental...
Two identical twin brothers live together. One is a respected dentist. The other… not so much.
He can’t hold a job and prefers to lounge around all day while his brother works hard to pay the bills.
One Saturday, the dentist is feeling hungry and tells his brother to get off the couch and go grab some food.
After some lazy protest, the brother finally takes the car and heads to the store. Meanwhile, the dentist—off work for the weekend—turns off his phone and takes a nap.
About 30 minutes later, the lazy brother is in a head-on collision at the intersection near the grocery store.
He’s barely conscious, vital signs fading. An ambulance rushes him to the ER. He’s in critical condition. The hospital tries calling his brother, but the phone just rings and rings.
Back home, the dentist is awoken by a persistent knock at the door. At first, he ignores it, thinking it’s a solicitor. But the knocking doesn’t stop. Annoyed, he gets up to tell them off.
When he opens the door, he’s stunned.
Standing there is the Grim Reaper himself—just like in the movies. Skeletal frame, black tattered cloak, scythe in hand.
The Reaper sighs. “Ugh. Not again. This always happens with identical twins.”
“What do you mean?” the dentist asks, heart pounding.
The Reaper replies, “Your brother was in a serious car accident. I’ve come to collect his soul. But with twins, there’s always confusion. Happens more than you’d think. Anyway, I’ll be on my way.”
“Wait!” the dentist says, alarmed. “Isn’t there any way I can bargain for my brother’s life? After all, YOU’RE the one who messed up!”
The Reaper pauses. “That depends. What do you propose?”
The dentist thinks for a moment. “A challenge. If I win, you let him live.”
The Reaper scoffs. “I am death incarnate. I do not lose. But go on.”
The dentist grins. “Let’s see who has the cleanest teeth. Five minutes of brushing, then we compare.”
The Reaper hesitates, then shrugs. “Very well.”
They head to the bathroom. The Reaper pulls back his hood to reveal a pristine skull—smooth and polished. He grabs a toothbrush, loads it with toothpaste, and brushes methodically. After five minutes, his skull is gleaming so brightly it lights up the room.
“Your turn,” he says smugly.
The dentist takes a fresh toothbrush and gets to work—brushing furiously, every angle, every surface. When his five minutes are up, he spits, smiles, and opens wide.
It’s dazzling.
His teeth are so clean, so radiant, that the Reaper can see his own reflection clearly in every single tooth.
The Reaper groans. “Well… I lost. Your brother will live. This time.” Then he vanishes in a puff of smoke.
At the same instant, the bed-ridden brother wakes up in the hospital. Not only is he uninjured, he seems perfectly healthy.
Suddenly, the phone by his bed rings. It's his brother, the dentist. He picks up. “Hey bro. You'll never believe what happened. Apparently, I went out to the market and got hit by a car. They say I almost died.”
The dentist smiles on the phone and says. “That's interesting, bro. Today you might say that I also had a brush with Death.”