Neuro-inversion

Time for a cup of tea.

There’s a moment in the slow boiling of a frog—urban legend though it may be—where the water temperature creeps so subtly upward that the frog’s nervous system fails to register a threat. The conditions for death arrive without alarm. That, right now, is where we are. Only the pot is our minds. And the water? Cognitive overload.

I call this state neurinversion—the moment when our synaptic equilibrium collapses not because of a sudden explosion, but because of the slow, unrelenting distortion of patterns, truths, and sensory coherence. We don’t break because we snap. We break because the world no longer makes sense in the language we were trained to hear it in. And the worst part? The more broken the input, the harder we cling to broken frameworks.

“Let me be blunt: in the markets, this shows up as denial. Delusional “buy the dip” sentiment, sugar-high investment habits, and a desperate grasp for the familiar, no matter how outdated. Nostalgia is now a trading strategy—and a very bad one.”

But that’s the landscape. Political instability has become the new backdrop, not the anomaly. Trump’s return to centre stage—and the performative chaos that accompanies it—isn’t a fresh wound, it’s a reopened one. In April, I warned explicitly about an upcoming treasury shock. Bond markets were shaking, liquidity was stalling, and volatility signals were screaming. You didn’t need a crystal ball. You just needed to be looking. And most weren’t.

What did we see instead? TV anchors blinking in disbelief, fund managers describing the tremors as “surprising,” and Reddit armchair warriors doubling down on their meme stocks. It was a textbook signal. A system that functions by denying stress until it can’t anymore. And then it collapses.

And in the middle of all of this? Apple. A bellwether brand, yes. But increasingly a bellwether for something darker: the cult of complacency. I’ve covered AAPL for decades, and I’ve watched forums morph from curiosity labs into ideological sandboxes where any deviation from the party line is met with disdain, mockery, or outright excommunication.

When I sold at $260, I said clearly: the numbers didn’t lie. Tariff risk was real. Treasury volatility was rising. Structural delays in Siri, VisionOS, and the AI stack had been swept under the rug for too long. I set a target of $150–$170. It hit $169. Then everyone acted shocked—again. And then went back to pretending the water wasn’t heating up.

Neurinversion isn’t just a mental state—it’s a market dynamic. It’s what happens when the stories we use to make sense of companies stop working, and instead of adjusting our views, we keep re-running the old ones. Over and over. Waiting for the narrative to come back to us.

Forums are filled with it. Proud farmers waving dividend checks like they’re Revolutionary War bonds. Threads romanticising the past. People quoting Buffett on patience while ignoring the fact he’s been selling AAPL too. All the while, management dysfunction festers, innovation stagnates, and hard truths—like the flop of the Apple Vision Pro—are buried in euphemisms like “public beta” and “first-generation groundwork.”

We’re no longer discussing fundamentals. We’re reciting mantras.

And when I point this out? I’m told I’m bitter. Or ungrateful. Or worse, disrespectful. As if calling out strategic failure in a trillion-dollar company is a moral transgression. As if loyalty to the brand means silence in the face of its slow decline.

But what if the most loyal act is not blind faith—but rigorous scrutiny?

I’m building tommo.fyi because the old places no longer support that kind of thinking. I want this to be a space for those who feel the boil, who sense the neurinversion, who’ve looked around and thought: “Am I the only one seeing this?”

You’re not. Many do. But the voices are drowned in noise. What we need now isn’t more cheerleading. It’s surgical analysis. Pattern recognition. Humour laced with sharp steel. Insight that moves, not flatters.

And we need it fast. Because what’s coming isn’t just another rate hike, or another antitrust suit, or another Apple launch that misses the mark. It’s the collision of market cycles with neurological exhaustion.

Political entropy meeting financial inertia.

The obliteration of old truths—without new ones to replace them.

This blog will be part chronicle, part mirror, part alarm bell. It won’t be all pretty, but it will be real. And sometimes real is the only oxygen left in the pot.

So if you’ve felt the heat rising and wondered why nobody else seems to be moving—welcome. You’re not broken. You’re awake. And in this space, that’s the only standard that matters.