obsessed

Electronic design automation (EDA) and engineering simulation software company Synopsys (SNPS -4.08%) recently released a disappointing set of third-quarter earnings, resulting in a collapse in its share price. As ever, Wall Street analysts immediately rushed to lower price targets.

But here’s the thing. Generally, the adjusted price targets remain significantly above the current price. Of the 22 analysts covering the stock, 18 have “buy” or “outperform” ratings, while one has an “underperform” rating.

Wall Street still loves Synopsys

The price targets on the post-earnings analyst updates range from Piper Sandler’s $630 to Berenberg’s $500. This compares to the current price of almost $500 and a post-earnings price of below $390.

One possible reason why Wall Street remains obsessed (in a good way) with the stock is that the problems revealed in the update relate to its smaller Design Intellectual Property (IP) segment. In contrast, its core EDA segment (sales up 23.5% year over year) is performing well, and the exciting recent addition of engineering simulation software company Ansys adds a new growth dimension.

The idea is that Ansys’ broader range of end-market customers will naturally align with Synopsys’ core EDA business as more industries and customers begin to incorporate semiconductors and AI-driven applications into their products. As such, the opportunity to offer what Synopsys management calls “silicon to systems” solutions to customers has a natural appeal. Customers can both design chips with Synopsys’ EDA and test the interactions between these chips and their embedded products.

Image source: Getty Images.

Where next for Synopsys?

It will take time for management to turn things around in the Design IP segment, but a few quarters of ongoing growth in EDA, combined with the successful integration of Ansys, will help strengthen the long-term case for the company. Wall Street believes that the potential of the latter outweighs the downside risk associated with the former.

International Business Machines (IBM 1.15%), which is usually referred to by its ticker IBM, is a global icon in the technology sector. The company has a surprising ability to change with the times, and it’s been doing so for more than 100 years now. Indeed, when IBM was founded back in 1911, it made things like scales and clocks. Today, it makes all sorts of equipment, including quantum computers, and it supports the cloud computing industry, which is the backbone of artificial intelligence (AI).

Wall Street loves IBM again

Even after a fairly sizable drawdown since July, shares of IBM still trade up around 20% or so over the past year. Over the trailing three years, the stock has nearly doubled in price. That’s a pretty sizable return and highlights the fact that Wall Street is obsessed with IBM shares again. As noted, the company has shifted into key areas like quantum, cloud computing, and AI.

Image source: Getty Images.

But what’s special about IBM is that it hasn’t always been focused on these areas. Just a few years ago, investors pretty much hated the stock because it was out of step with the technology sector. The concern about IBM was so bad that between 2012 and 2020, the stock actually lost roughly half of its value. Contrarian investors with a long-term view, however, realized that IBM had updated its business many times before.

IBM is worth loving most of the time

The business revamp was difficult and took many years. It involved a large corporate spin-off, asset sales, and acquisitions, the largest of which was Red Hat. But IBM did what needed to be done to remain relevant. So while IBM is popular again because of its current business focus, the real reason to be obsessed with IBM for long-term investors is its proven ability to change with the world around it.

If you’ve been paying attention to the tech world for the past couple of years, you’ve likely noticed how unavoidable artificial intelligence (AI) is. Even if you haven’t been tuned into tech news, chances are good that you’ve come across AI in some form or fashion.

This AI hype has made many tech stocks go-tos for investors looking to capitalize on the new technology, but there have been very few stocks that Wall Street has obsessed over quite like Palantir Technologies (PLTR 4.14%). The stock is up over 120% year to date through Sept. 10, and up over 378% in the past 12 months.

Image source: Getty Images.

Why the obsession with Palantir?

The reason why Wall Street has become obsessed with Palantir is that the company has demonstrated that it’s not a one-trick pony.

For a while, Palantir was viewed as a niche data software company that served government agencies like the U.S. Department of Defense and CIA. However, the growth of its U.S. commercial business — thanks to its Artificial Intelligence Platform (AIP) — has shown that the company can scale in the private sector and compete in the mainstream enterprise AI space.

In the second quarter, Palantir’s U.S. commercial business increased its revenue 93% year over year to $306 million. Although it didn’t earn more than Palantir’s U.S. government revenue ($426 million), it was easily its fastest-growing segment.

Should you also be obsessed with Palantir?

Palantir showing additional revenue streams is encouraging, but if you’re not currently an investor, you should proceed with caution before going all in on the stock because of its extremely high valuation. Palantir is currently trading at close to 267 times its forward earnings, which is one of the highest in history on the stock market, regardless of the company.

This doesn’t make Palantir a bad investment, but such a high valuation means that investors have priced a lot of growth into the stock, and anything short of meeting these lofty expectations could result in a sharp pullback.

Let’s unpack our need to unpack the whole “woman on TikTok who fell in love with her psychiatrist” saga.

First the facts: Kendra Hilty recently posted 25 videos on TikTok in which she discussed her decision to end four years of 30-minute monthly sessions (most of them on Zoom) with a male psychiatrist who prescribed her medication. At some point during their sessions, Hilty revealed her romantic feelings for him, feelings that she now — supported by comments she says were made by her therapist and a ChatGPT she has named Henry — believes the psychiatrist willingly fostered, leveraged and enjoyed.

Millions of people tuned in, though the fascination appears to have been less about the alleged actions and motivations of the psychiatrist (who has wisely chosen, thus far, to remain silent) and more focused on Hilty’s detailed description of certain encounters and her deep subtext readings of what they might have meant.

Many responded so negatively that Hilty turned off her comments for a while as hundreds made posts across social media eviscerating or satirizing the series. Soon enough, as happens with viral content, legacy media got involved and all the catch-up “unpacking” began.

Unlike Reesa Teesa, whose multi-post tale of marriage to a pathological liar went viral on TikTok last year and led to a TV adaptation, Hilty hasn’t become a universal figure of sympathy and courage. As she recently told People magazine, she has received “nonstop bullying” and threats along with the dozens of DMs thanking her for sharing her story. She has been accused of racism (the psychiatrist is a man of color), narcissism and, well, insanity. (She says she is, however, open to having her story adapted to film or television.)

To say the posts are troubling is an understatement. I was alerted to them by a friend who had previously expressed concern about young people using ChatGPT as a de facto therapist — a trend alarming enough to draw warnings from Open AI Chief Executive Sam Altman and move Illinois, Utah and Nevada to ban the use of AI in mental health therapy. “There’s a woman on TikTok having a full-blown ChatGPT-induced meltdown,” this friend texted me. “This is a real problem.”

Certainly, Hilty appeared to be having real problems, which ChatGPT, with its programmed tendency to validate users’ views and opinions, undoubtedly inflamed. But given the viral reaction to her posts, so are we.

Even as countless studies suggest that social media is, for myriad reasons, detrimental to mental health, its users continue to consume and comment on videos and images of people undergoing mental and emotional crises as if they were DIY episodes of “Fleabag.”

So the question is not “who is this woman obsessing about her relationship with her psychiatrist” but why are so many of us watching her do it? It’s one thing to become transfixed by a fictional character going down a scripted wormhole for the purposes of narrative enlightenment or comedy. It’s another when some poor soul is doing it in front of their phone in real life.

It’s even worse when the “star” of the video is not a willing participant. Social media and the ubiquity of smartphones have allowed citizens to expose instances of genuine, and often institutionalized, racism, sexism, homophobia and consumer exploitation. But for every “Karen” post that reveals bigotry, abuse or unacceptable rudeness, there are three that capture someone clearly having a mental or emotional breakdown (or just a very, very bad day).

With social media largely unregulated, they are all lumped in together and it has become far too easy to use it as the British elite once purportedly used psychiatric hospital Bedlam: to view the emotionally troubled and mentally ill as if they were exhibits in a zoo.

Hilty believes she is helping to identify a real problem and is, obviously, the author of her own exposure, as are many people who post themselves deconstructing a bad relationship, reacting to a crisis or experiencing emotional distress. All social media posts exist to capture attention, and the types that do tend to be repeated. Sharing one’s trauma can elicit sympathy, support, insight and even help. But “sadfishing,” as it is often called, can also make a bad situation worse, from viewers questioning the authenticity and intention of the post to engaging in brutal mockery and bullying.

Those who are caught on camera as they melt down over one thing or another could wind up as unwitting symbols of privilege or stupidity or the kind of terrible service/consumer we’re expected to deal with today. Some are undoubtedly arrogant jerks who have earned a public comeuppance (and if the fear of being filmed keeps even one person from shouting at some poor overworked cashier or barista, that can only be a good thing).

But others are clearly beset by problems that go far deeper than not wanting to wait in line or accept that their flight has been canceled.

It is strange that in a culture where increased awareness of mental health realities and challenges have led to so many positive changes, including to the vernacular, people still feel free to film, post, watch and judge strangers who have lost control without showing any concern for context or consequence.

I would like to say I never watch videos of people having a meltdown or behaving badly, but that would be a big fat lie. They’re everywhere and I enjoy the dopamine thrill of feeling outraged and superior as much as the next person. (Again, I am not talking about videos that capture bigotry, institutional abuse or physical violence.)

I watched Hilty for research but I quickly found myself caught up in her minute dissection and seemingly wild projection. I too found myself judging her, silently but not in a kind way. (“No one talks about being in love with their shrink? Girl, it’s literary and cinematic canon.” “How, in all those years in therapy, have you never heard of transference?” “Why do you keep saying you don’t want this guy fired while arguing that he abused the doctor-patient relationship?”)

As the series wore on, her pain, if not its actual source, became more and more evident and my private commentary solidified into: “For the love of God, put down your phone.”

Since she was not about to, I did. Because me watching her wasn’t helping either of us.

Except to remind me of times when my own mental health felt precarious, when obsession and paranoia seemed like normal reactions and my inner pain drove me to do and say things I very much regret. These are memories that I will continue to hold and own but I am eternally grateful that no one, including myself, captured them on film, much less shared them with the multitudes.

Those who make millions off the mostly unpaid labor of social media users show no signs of protecting their workers with oversight or regulation. But no one goes viral in a vacuum. Decades ago, the popularity of “America’s Funniest Home Videos” answered the question of whether people’s unscripted pain should be offered up as entertainment and now we live in a world where people are willing to do and say the most intimate and anguished things in front of a reality TV crew.

Still, when one of these types of videos pops up or goes viral, there’s no harm in asking “why exactly am I watching this” and “what if it were me?”

SEOUL  — When South Koreans start to obsess over a movie or TV series, they abbreviate its name, a distinction given to Netflix’s latest hit “K-pop Demon Hunters.” In media headlines and in every corner of the internet, the American-made film is now universally referred to as “Keh-deh-hun” — the first three syllables of the title when read aloud in Korean.

And audiences are already clamoring for a sequel.

The animated film follows a fictional South Korean girl group named “HUNTR/X” as its three members — Rumi, Mira and Zoey — try to deliver the world from evil through the power of song and K-pop fandom.

Since its release in June, it has become the most watched original animated film in Netflix history, with millions of views worldwide, including the U.S. and South Korea, where its soundtrack has topped the charts on local music streaming platform Melon. Fans have also cleaned out the gift shop at the National Museum of Korea, which has run out of a traditional tiger pin that resembles one of the movie’s characters.

Much of the film’s popularity in South Korea is rooted in its keenly observed details and references to Korean folklore, pop culture and even national habits — the result of having a production team filled with K-pop fans, as well as a group research trip to South Korea that co-director Maggie Kang led in order to document details as minute as the appearance of local pavement.

There are nods to traditional Korean folk painting, a Korean guide to the afterlife, the progenitors of K-pop and everyday mannerisms. In one scene, at a table in a restaurant where the three girls are eating, viewers might notice how the utensils are laid atop a napkin, an essential ritual for dining out in South Korea — alongside pouring cups of water for everyone at the table.

“The more that I watch ‘Keh-deh-hun,’ the more that I notice the details,” South Korean music critic Kim Yoon-ha told local media last month. “It managed to achieve a verisimilitude that would leave any Korean in awe.”

::

“K-pop Demon Hunters” has nods to traditional Korean folk painting, a Korean guide to the afterlife, the progenitors of K-pop and everyday mannerisms.

(Netflix)

Despite its subject matter and association with the “K-wave,” that catch-all term for any and all Korean cultural export, “K-pop Demon Hunters,” at least in the narrowest sense, doesn’t quite fit the bill.

Produced by Sony Pictures and directed by Korean Canadian Kang and Chris Appelhans — who has held creative roles on other animated films such as “Coraline” and “Fantastic Mr. Fox” — the movie is primarily in English and geared toward non-Korean audiences. But its popularity in South Korea is another sign that the boundaries of the K-wave are increasingly fluid — and that, with more and more diaspora Korean artists entering the mix, it flows in the opposite direction, too.

Those barriers have already long since broken down in music: many K-pop artists and songwriters are non-Korean or part of the Korean diaspora, reflecting the genre’s history of foreign influences such as Japanese pop or American hip-hop.

“Once a cultural creation acquires a universality, you can’t just confine it to the borders of the country of origin, which is where K-pop is today,” said Kim Il-joong, director of the content business division at the Korea Creative Content Agency, a government body whose mission is to promote South Korean content worldwide. “Despite what the name ‘K-pop’ suggests, it is really a global product.”

In “K-pop Demon Hunters,” Zoey is a rapper from Burbank. In addition, the soundtrack was written and performed by a team that includes producers, artists and choreographers associated with some of the biggest real-life K-pop groups of the past decade.

Streaming productions are increasingly flying multiple flags, too: Apple TV’s “Pachinko” or Netflix’s “XO, Kitty” are both American productions that were filmed in South Korea. But few productions have been able to inspire quite the same level of enthusiasm as “K-pop Demon Hunters,” whose charm for many South Koreans is how accurately it captures local idiosyncrasies and contemporary life.

While flying in their private jet, the three girls are shown sitting on the floor even though there is a sofa right beside them. This tendency to use sofas as little more than backrests is an endless source of humor and self-fascination among South Koreans, most of whom would agree that the centuries-old custom of sitting on the floor dies hard.

South Korean fans and media have noted that the characters correctly pronounce “ramyeon,” or Korean instant noodles. The fact that ramyeon is often conflated with Japanese ramen — which inspired the invention of the former decades ago — has long been a point of exasperation for many South Koreans and local ramyeon companies, which point to the fact that the Korean adaption has since evolved into something distinct.

It’s a small difference — the Korean version is pronounced “rah myun” — but one that it pays to get right in South Korea.

Apple TV’s “Pachinko,” with Sungkyu Kim, Eunchae Jung and Minha Kim, is an American production filmed in South Korea.

(Apple)

The girls’ cravings for ramyeon during their flight also caught the eye of Ireh, a member of the real-life South Korean girl group Purple Kiss who praised the film’s portrayals of life as a K-pop artist.

“I don’t normally eat ramyeon but whenever I go on tour, I end up eating it,” she said in a recent interview with local media. “The scene reminded me of myself.”

South Korean fans have also been delighted by a pair of animals, Derpy and Sussy, which borrow from jakhodo, a genre of traditional Korean folk painting in which tigers and magpies are depicted side by side, popularized during the Joseon Dynasty in the 19th century.

In the film, Derpy is the fluorescent tiger with goggle eyes that always appears with its sidekick, a three-eyed bird named Sussy.

“K-pop Demon Hunters” is peppered with homages to Korean artists throughout history who are seen today as the progenitors of contemporary K-pop.

(Netflix)

Though they have long since been extinct, tigers were once a feared presence on the Korean peninsula, at times coming down from the mountains to terrorize the populace. They were also revered as talismans that warded off evil spirits. But much like Derpy itself, jakhodo reimagined tigers as friendlier, oftentimes comical beings. Historians have interpreted this as the era’s political satire: the magpie, audacious in the presence of a great predator, represented the common man standing up to the nobility.

The movie is peppered with homages to Korean artists throughout history who are seen today as the progenitors of contemporary K-pop. There are apparent nods to the “Jeogori Sisters,” a three-piece outfit that was active from 1939 to 1945 and is often described as Korea’s first girl group, followed by the Kim Sisters, another three-piece that found success in the U.S., performing in Las Vegas and appearing on “The Ed Sullivan Show.”

Longtime K-pop fans might recognize the demon hunters from the 1990s as S.E.S., a pioneering girl group formed by S.M. Entertainment, the label behind present-day superstars Aespa and Red Velvet. (Bada, S.E.S.’s main vocalist, recently covered “Golden,” the film’s headline track, on YouTube.)

For a long time, South Korean audiences have often complained about outside depictions of the country as inauthentic and out of touch. Not anymore.

“Korea wasn’t just shown as an extra add-on as it has been for so long,” Kim said. “‘K-pop Demon Hunters’ did such a great job depicting Korea in a way that made it instantly recognizable to audiences here.”

Soap fans were thrilled by the unexpected return of EastEnders star Cheryl Fergison to TV screens after she opened up on her financial struggles since leaving Walford

A fan-favourite EastEnders made an unexpected return to TV, leaving viewers thrilled. Cheryl Fergison, who played the iconic Heather Trott on the BBC soap, has been open about her lack of work in recent years.

The actress revealed her financial struggles after leaving the soap in 2012, and shared how she got help from a foodbank as well as EastEnders legend Dame Barbara Windsor. Following the challenging time, Cheryl has made a comeback to the small screen.

She shocked viewers when she rocked up in BBC Two’s comedy series Mandy. The actress made a guest appearance in the show, which is written by Diane Morgan.

It follows the goings on of permanently out-of-work Mandy Carter and her best friend Lola. Mandy was forced to attend a restart scheme at her local job centre, where she encountered an unimpressed Stella, played by Cheryl.

Stella only said one worked to Mandy, as she called her “dirty”. Cheryl’s fans were thrilled by her return to screens as one said: “Obsessed with Cheryl ‘two words’ Fergison. She did a cracking job.”

Another added: “Congrats Cheryl!” Someone else commented: “Can we talk about the amount of cameos in Mandy cuz what do u mean Cheryl Fergison and Martin Lewis casually popped up within the first ep of series 4?”

A fourth declared: “Ar Cheryl is in the new season of Mandy.” While on EastEnders, Cheryl racked up a huge fan following until her character was sensationally killed off.

Ben Mitchell smacked her over the head with a picture frame, causing her to hit her head on the way to the floor. Life after the soap hasn’t been quite so straightforward, with Cheryl opening up on her struggles earlier this year.

She revealed she had turned to a food bank for help and was relying on benefits. In order to try and make ends meet, Cheryl settled for far smaller jobs including opening a Chinese takeaway in Cleveleys earlier this year.

The actress told Casino.org: “My health is good, but my finances will take a long time to recover. Until I have steady work, I’m not rich or comfortable—I’m just surviving.

“I’ve been saying yes to everything for no money, but I need to start valuing my work and asking for fair pay. Even my agent insists on it.”

She added: “Still, I’ll never give in. I want to keep singing. If people criticise me for singing in small restaurants, so be it. At the end of the day, I’m an entertainer. Community has always been important to me, and I’ll perform no matter the crowd.”

Once at the top of her game as a primetime BBC star, Cheryl fell into dire straits after she was conned out of a ‘humungous’ amount of money. She said on This Morning: “There is a circumstance that started this, which I can’t talk about at this moment in time, but it started to spiral.

“The only way I can say it is I was conned out of a humongous amount of money. That led to the cancer thing and everything spiralled. I was robbing Peter to pay Paul. I ended up having to sell my house. Now I am living up north and renting.”

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