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Tag: The Big Short

  • Michael Burry’s Big Bets Still Move Markets—Even When He’s Wrong

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    Even when his calls miss, Michael Burry’s reputation keeps Wall Street watching his every move. Astrid Stawiarz/Getty Images

    Michael Burry earned a whopping $800 million by shorting the U.S. housing market ahead of the 2008 financial crisis. Whether the famed investor has made comparable money since then is far less clear. Still, his reputation endures. Investors continue to closely track his high-profile bets, hoping to ride his coattails to similar gains.

    Burry ran the hedge fund Scion Asset Management and now publishes commentary through a weekly newsletter, though he discloses little about performance. He has also repeatedly deleted and reactivated his X account over the years, but remains active on the platform, where he has roughly 1.6 million followers and frequently posts cryptic market takes.

    His celebrity status was cemented by the 2015 film The Big Short, which turned Burry into a household name. That visibility has granted him a level of credibility few investors retain for so long, even when their predictions miss the mark.

    “People like superstars, and they love to listen to folks who they think are smart and successful,” Tom Sosnoff, founder of investment media network Tastylive, told Observer. “He is a personality and a contrarian. He is interesting and pretty famous in the world of finance. Love him or not, people listen to him.”

    While Burry’s early success is well documented, his performance since then is harder to evaluate. As a hedge fund manager, he is only required to disclose limited information through quarterly filings such as 13Fs, which reveal long equity positions but not short positions, derivatives or overall performance. As a result, the full picture of his gains and losses remains largely opaque.

    There have been claims that Burry has made more than $1 billion in total trading profits, but those figures have never been independently verified, and his fund has never been publicly audited.

    Nvidia and Palantir in the crosshairs

    Despite the uncertainty around his track record, Burry’s words still move markets. His recent bearish bets against Nvidia and Palantir have drawn particular attention, with Burry arguing that both sit at the center of an A.I.-driven market bubble.

    On Nov. 3, regulatory filings revealed that Scion had placed roughly $1.1 billion in bearish options positions tied to those companies. The structure of the trade—largely long-dated put options—gives him time for the thesis to play out rather than requiring an immediate downturn.

    “His timing was very good,” said Sosnoff. “He pretty much got short Nvidia near the top (around $200), and it’s now down 10 percent to 15 percent. It’s a good call.”

    Palantir, which represents Burry’s largest short at roughly $912 million, has not fallen as sharply. The stock is down about 7.8 percent from its Nov. 3 level. Still, because the position is structured with options expiring in 2027, some analysts say it’s far too early to judge.

    “His logic is extremely good, and he has over a year to be right,” David Trainer, CEO of A.I.-driven investment research firm New Constructs, told Observer.

    Trainer, a former hedge fund manager, also backed Burry’s broader critique of A.I. hyperscalers, arguing that companies such as Oracle and Microsoft are using aggressive accounting practices, particularly around GPU depreciation, to flatter earnings.

    “These companies are definitely using questionable billing and receivables to make their earnings look better,” said Trainer. “I can’t say if Burry has been right or wrong in previous trades, but I think he has made some money. “This time [with the A.I. Bubble], he seems right.”

    The cult of the contrarian

    Not everyone is convinced. Matthew Tuttle, CEO of Tuttle Capital Management and a frequent contrarian himself, said Burry’s post-2008 track record is far less impressive than his reputation suggests.

    “When you look at the calls Burry has made since 2008, they have not been good,” he told Observer. “He has said ‘this is going to crash and that is going to crash’ many times since, and he hasn’t been right.”

    Still, big bearish bets tend to attract attention precisely because they go against the grain.

    “Any time someone makes a major down call, there’s a fascination with it as long [bullish] calls are always okay because the market always goes up,” said Tuttle.

    That dynamic helps explain why hedge fund stars can remain influential long after their best trades are behind them.

    “If I’m the main character in a movie and in a book like Burry and have been right in a big way, that buys me a lot of getting things wrong,” added Tuttle.

    The same dynamic applies to other market personalities such as Robert Kiyosaki, Peter Schiff and CNBC’s Jim Cramer, whose reputations often outlast their accuracy.

    “Robert Kiyosaki is constantly calling a bear market, and he is wrong, and Peter Schiff has been calling gold up for a long time,” said Tuttle. In Schiff’s case, it eventually worked—but more because of timing and luck than brilliance.

    “When you say gold is going to go up every year, and one year it does well, does that make you a genius? I would argue it doesn’t,” he added.

    Fame as financial fuel

    Wall Street is full of one-hit wonders whose early success grants them enduring influence.

    “Most of the time, they don’t risk their money,” said Sosnoff. “If they have one big win one year, they’re set. Their reputation is made.”

    John Paulson, who famously made $15 billion betting against subprime mortgages, fits that mold, as do figures like Ralph Acampora, who called the 1990s bull market, and Paul Tudor Jones, who predicted the 1987 crash.

    Other famous short sellers have stumbled. Jim Chanos, known for shorting Enron, closed his Kynikos fund in late 2023 after his Tesla bet went wrong. Bill Ackman lost roughly $1 billion betting against Herbalife in 2018, despite previously scoring a massive win betting against mortgage insurers during the financial crisis.

    Ultimately, fame often matters more than accuracy.

    “We live in a world where celebrities (movie, social media) have megaphones, and Michael is a celebrity because of the movie,” NYU Stern professor Aswath Damodaran told Observer. “Put simply, I will wager that most people who follow his advice (good or bad) are doing so because they liked the movie, think he is Christian Bale or like Batman, rather than because they read his treatises on Nvidia or Palantir. “

    That doesn’t mean Burry lacks insight. “Michael actually is a good macro thinker and often willing to break away from the herd,” Damodaran added. “But so are many other smart investors who never get noticed.”

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    Ivan Castano

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  • Michael Burry Is Challenging Nvidia’s Jensen Huang Again

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    Michael Burry, famed investor of The Big Short, recently asked for evidence of the “mass quantities” of Nvidia GPUs being housed in the U.S. His request came on the heels of an extensive thread on X claiming CEO Jensen Huang’s statements about the business aren’t adding up. 

    Huang said this past October that Nvidia had shipped 6 million Blackwell GPUs, the company’s fastest AI chips, over the past year, according to CNBC. But a user under the name @Kakashii posted on X December 7 disputing the claims, a thread Burry chose to amplify and double down on.

    Claims of Inconsistent Numbers

    Kakashii explained the calculations he performed to confirm Huang’s statements. 

    “Since Blackwell is out, Nvidia reported 111B in revenue in GPU datacenters,” he wrote. “If you do simple math, 6 million Blackwell GPUs within the reported 111B revenue of datacenters since Blackwell started to ship is not matching, because it represents only between 2.5 to 3.5 million Blackwell chips.” 

    Even when giving Huang the benefit of the doubt and assuming he is “always telling the truth,” @Kakashii said, the numbers track for just four million units. He claims millions are unaccounted for.

    He concluded that the claim is inconsistent with Nvidia’s reported revenue and with data center power capacity. So, the question would be that if a large portion of Nvidia Blackwell GPUs aren’t being used in data centers, as the thread claims, where are they?

    Burry’s Call to Action

    Burry is on the case.

    The extended deadline for the 2026 Inc. Regionals Awards is Friday, December 19, at 11:59 p.m. PT. Apply now.

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    Ava Levinson

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  • When the Plebes Had Diamond Hands: Dumb Money

    When the Plebes Had Diamond Hands: Dumb Money

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    Toward the end of 2020, the only thing more pervasive than COVID-19 was “WAP” by Cardi B and Megan Thee Stallion. A song whose prowess carried over into early 2021, just as coronavirus did. At that time, TikTok was also blowing up more than ever. In large part thanks to “at-home culture” “thriving.” When corona first hit at the beginning of 2020, Megan Thee Stallion was having a moment all her own thanks to the “Savage” challenge that went viral on the app. A detail that also comes into play during Dumb Money, when a GameStop employee named Marcos Barcia (Anthony Ramos) trolls his boss, Brad (Dane DeHaan), after the latter tells him that while he can’t give him an advance on his paycheck, he can compete to win “ten labor hours” (presumably, that means ten hours’ worth of wages) by participating in a TikTok lip sync contest. 

    This, of course, happens after “WAP” soundtracks the intro to Dumb Money, as Gabe Plotkin (Seth Rogen) frantically runs through his multimillion dollar property upon being told to “dial in” by fellow hedge fund CEO Steve Cohen (played by an ever-mutating Vincent D’Onofrio). It is Cohen who informs Plotkin that, “They’re holding” (in other words, they’ve got “diamond hands”). The “they” in this scenario being the proverbial “little guy.” The David to Wall Street’s Goliath. And the representative for all the Davids of the U.S. at large is Keith Gill (Paul Dano) a.k.a. Roaring Kitty a.k.a. Deep Fucking Value. Although a financial analyst at MassMutual by day, Keith’s real passion appears to be his post-work life as a “recreational YouTuber.” And it’s one he ostensibly disappears deeper into after the death of his sister, Sara (the cause of which we’re made to assume was from Covid).

    This is what the viewer sees when the film cuts to six months earlier, smack-dab in the middle of 2020. Meeting with his friend and financial colleague, Briggsy (Deniz Akdeniz), Keith tells him about his decision to double down on investing in GameStop stock. Which Briggsy bills as “penny stocks” (but hey, those were good enough to make Jordan Belfort a rich man, n’est-ce pas?). Keith insists 1) GameStop is not that and 2) it’s highly undervalued. The obvious metaphor tying into how the “average joe” is consistently undervalued, too. And what business could be more tailored toward such a demographic than GameStop (apart from, say, Home Depot)? He then lays into Briggsy about how “Wall Street gets it wrong all the time. Look at ‘08. These guys, they have all the money, and the fancy degrees, and the political juice in the world and they get it wrong all the time.” Briggsy still warns, “You never bet against Wall Street.” Wall Street, too, is well-aware of its rigged system. The one that everybody on the inside benefits from, including men like Plotkin, Cohen and Ken Griffin (played to perfection by Nick Offerman), the eerily stoic (like, Dick Cheney-level) CEO of Citadel. 

    These are the men who refer to people like Keith as “dumb money” (the asterisk given with said title card of the movie being: “*individual investors often derided as ‘dumb money’ by Wall Street”). But Keith, at six months into 2020, is about to show these fucks just who, exactly, is the dumb one. Rallying his ever-burgeoning Reddit following, co-screenwriters Lauren Schuker Blum and Rebecca Angelo easily render Gill into a modern-day Robin Hood (and, to be sure, the app of the same name plays heavily into the narrative), taking money from the rich prematurely offloading their GameStop stocks (i.e., “shorting”) and putting it into the “pockets” of the everyman. Including essential health care workers like Jenny (America Ferrera, who is having her best year ever in the mainstream thanks to Barbie and this film, to boot). Among others like Marcos and college students Riri (​​Myha’la Herrold) and Harmony (Talia Ryder), these are the “subreddits” of the movie that thread together a larger point/theme. A point/theme that should be fairly overt to everyone by now, especially the rich (*cough cough* Wall Street finance bros). Then again, denial isn’t just a river in a hedge fund manager’s backyard. 

    And yet, although ignoring the contempt of the poor (read: everyone except the rich at this juncture) was relatively easy to do before 2020, this was a year when the internet became an echo chamber of unprecedented rage (markedly propelled by the filmed murder of George Floyd in late May—itself given a nod to in Dumb Money when Marcos passes a wall of graffiti that reads, “Fuck the Cops,” “Black Lives Matter” and “I Can’t Breathe”). A platform for expressing the extreme dissatisfaction that has been percolating for decades vis-à-vis capitalism and the lie it continues to sell about “everyone” having an “equal” chance to “get ahead” (this, of course, alluding to amassing as much money as possible, because that’s all we’ve been conditioned to believe really matters—and yes, people like Cardi B and Megan Thee Stallion only perpetuate that message with their money-worshiping lyrics).

    Never had it been made more patently clear that that simply wasn’t the case when coronavirus came to roost, and the accompanying lockdowns that classified the lowest-paid workers as essential compared to the richest “workers” who were told to “stay home, stay safe” made it laughably apparent just how unfair this whole game has been. While the fat cats were allowed to safely shelter in place in their posh homes, those paid in peanuts and balcony applause to risk their lives were made to suffer more than ever. And all without any promise of higher pay. So what is being “essential” really worth to he who controls the market? Because, in the end, no matter what, the Goliaths will be able to get what they want out of the Davids of the world, somehow managing to push them into submission one way or the other. In Gill and his acolytes’ case, that came in the form of shutting off access to the r/WallStreetBets forum under the guise of espousing “hateful and discriminatory content” that “violated Reddit’s code of conduct.” Ha! So it’s okay for the rich to make an entire affluent existence out of discriminating and being hateful toward the have-nots, but when the latter group tries to take a stand only then can it be called what it is? Oh hell no. 

    And when Keith commences his “thesis” on GameStop, he’s right to say, “The value is overlooked. Wall Street just doesn’t see it. Why?… The hedge funds are overlooking the value of the company just like they overlook the people who shop there.” The same kind of people who will continue to be overlooked now that the GameStop “fiasco” is “over.” And, in effect, it is. For the consequences, as usual, did not fit the crime (the SEC made no charges, not even against Ken Griffin). And people like Marcos, although slightly vindicated, continued to get the fuzzy end of the lollipop. Just as he does in having to ride the bus to work during the pandemic (GameStop found a loophole for staying open by declaring itself a purveyor of “essential products” to keep people connected while “working from home” [read: playing video games]). And when he finally gets off the bus to enter a deserted Detroit mall that houses, among other shops, a GameStop, the viewer can then see the ad on the side of the bus that reads: “Money burning a hole in your pocket? We’ll get you some more.” It’s only too appropriate when applied to the stock market as an American casino. Not to mention the way Americans in general are “incentivized” to operate on credit, to incur a negative balance that will keep them constantly on some lender’s hook. This ceaseless, propagandizing encouragement in the U.S. to borrow money and effectively gamble on yourself (knowing full well the system doesn’t want you to be a winner) is what’s at play in Dumb Money as well. Except the hedge fund fucks “in charge” were never banking on the everyman’s “deluded” self-confidence to actually pay off. 

    Never seeing the short squeeze on the horizon at all, despite how clear it was becoming throughout 2020. And yes, those reminded of The Big Short by the term “short squeeze” wouldn’t be wrong to make the correlation. After all, said 2015 movie also relates to rigged market fuckery and is based on a book: Michael Lewis’ The Big Short: Inside the Doomsday Machine. Just as Dumb Money is based on Ben Mezrich’s 2021 tome (that’s right, the book came out the same year as the “incident” itself), The Antisocial Network: The GameStop Short Squeeze and the Ragtag Group of Amateur Traders That Brought Wall Street to Its Knees. While The Big Short was released almost a full decade after the debacle it addresses, Dumb Money is yet another prime example not just of the possibilities when “the plebes” are united in a cause, but also of the collective’s more recent obsession with looking back on the immediate past as though enough time has gone by to truly grasp the impact of what happened. 

    In the directorial care of Craig Gillespie (of Cruella and I, Tonya repute), that “grasp” becomes automatically comedic…even if it isn’t able to fully comprehend, so soon after it happened, the full weight of what occurred. The same goes for coronavirus itself, which most people have opted to sweep under the rug in terms of not wanting to remember “that time.” Preferring, instead, to pretend it never existed. In many respects, the attitude taken is tantamount to the cliche of everyone masturbating on a plane as they think it’s about to crash, only to realize the aircraft has righted itself and life will continue on for the time being. Afterward, everyone pretends that no one whipped it out in what they thought would be their final moments. That’s what coronavirus and its lockdown behavior mirrored.

    As 2020 came to a close and corona continued to rage on, the sequestering required of people created an unprecedented online environment. A cauldron, if you will, for something like the subreddit of Wall Street Bets to brew into an entire movement. One that was, needless to say, a movement geared toward taking down the rich. Who had only gotten richer during the pandemic while the rest of the working-class “schmucks” lost their already paltry livelihood. 

    Perhaps what’s most striking of all about Dumb Money (even more than the hubris of the rich) is how it forces viewers to remember that “period” not so long ago. Capturing a moment when complacency had subsided, in large part, thanks to having so much “free time” to actually rail against the oppressor. And the last thing an oppressor wants is for his serfs to have too much free time to think about what a fucked system this is (glorified feudalism, in case you couldn’t guess). Hence, the urgency with which the masses were ferried back to “normal.” With nobody seeming all that concerned about acknowledging the shellshock of what transpired. Just as no one is with acknowledging the (enduring) lack of fairness in the stock market (“fair market” being an especial oxymoron here). No matter what kind of “movement” Keith may have started.

    Per the film’s title card epilogue, that movement is summed up as follows: “Because of the GameStop rally, 85% of hedge funds now scour the internet to see where retail traders are investing. Fearing another short squeeze, funds have dramatically reduced their short positions. Wall Street will never be able to ignore the so-called ‘dumb money’ again.” Though that remains debatable. 

    And then there is the matter of refusing to acknowledge that what actually needs to change isn’t “leveling the playing field” so that broke asses can become just as cunty as richies, but blowing up the entire system, including its major capitalist trappings. I.e., the stock market.

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    Genna Rivieccio

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