Breaking Burry
Totally perverse unnatural massive market distortions: 1, Michael Burry: 0
One major headline today is that Michael Burry, of The Big Short fame, is shuttering his fund, Scion Capital. In his letter calling it quits, he wrote: “Sometimes, we see bubbles. Sometimes, there is something to do about it. Sometimes, the only winning move is not to play.”
I’ve been around markets long enough to believe that short sellers are generally more objectively right than most investors. They called Enron a fraud when investment banks were telling people to buy it, they blew the whistle on Madoff before he collapsed and they warned repeatedly about 2008 on national television before the entire global economy nearly collapsed.
But market dynamics know nothing of objectivity anymore. They have become a rigged, bloated, algorithm-warped humiliation ritual masquerading as a market — a parody of what price discovery used to be.
As I told Julia La Roche weeks ago, back when the market still resembled something coherent, regulated and free, and about $7 trillion in Fed balance sheet bilge ago, you could find a terrible company and short it, and the market would eventually notice.
“You dug into a company, found it was mismarked or cash-burning or structurally doomed, and you bet against it,” I told her. “When Einhorn did Allied Capital… everything’s mismarked. Everything’s dogshit. At some point, it’s going to come crashing down.”
That was the job. You shorted garbage. You shorted things that didn’t generate cash. You shorted fraud. And you got paid for being right, because the scales of the market used to hover at least somewhat near calibrated and neutral.
That world is long gone. What exists now is something fundamentally different, an environment where being right doesn’t matter because the market has stopped being a mechanism for price discovery and turned into a liquidity-driven hallucination, complete with an array of nonsensical ‘business objective’ narratives that substitute for actual financial performance.
Years ago, you could identify a dying star of a company and ride it down. The market would decide that a poor business couldn’t generate a profit, and as a result no one would be interested in owning stock, which was a way to own the future stream of said company’s cash flows.
Now, thanks to the “infinite cash” that the Fed firehoses the market with every time Jeremy Siegel takes to CNBC and shits his pants over a 3% move lower in the S&P 500, stock is no longer seen as buying a share of a company’s profits. Rather, buying stock in a company is nothing more than buying a scratch-off ticket at a roadside newsstand, with most uninformed market participants dripping with hubris—proudly ignorant of the arguments against their positions and happy to be king shit at the helm of a Fed-liquidity-driven, all-expenses-paid market God complex.
The distortions that have propelled managers like Ross Gerber or analysts like Dan Ives to be taken seriously are the same ones that have 18 year old neophytes who don’t know the difference between revenue and net income talking shit to Jim Chanos on Twitter.
These distortions are not subtle. The Fed’s balance sheet is still in the $6-plus trillion range. Banks have nearly $3 trillion in reserve balances parked at the Fed. Passive funds absorb flows blindly. Options markets have more retail participants than at any point in history. Leverage is everywhere. And the result is exactly what I told Julia:
“There’s $2 trillion worth of dogshit in the crypto market with a zero bid… and yet it all has a bid… because there’s so much liquidity that people don’t even know what the fuck to do with it all.”
This means assets that we can all agree should be worth nothing — think $285 million market cap Fartcoin, for example — still trade because there’s literally nowhere else for the deluge of liquidity to go.
It means “story stocks” with no earnings and lifetime negative cash flow behave like they’re invincible merely because money has to go somewhere. It means SPACs, with one PowerPoint and a dream, float for years before reality asserts itself. For example, has anyone checked in on PureCycle’s 2025 fiscal projections that it made a couple years ago? It was supposed to be doing $505 million in EBITDA this year at 56% margins. Instead, it has posted an operating loss of ($122.3 million) so far. Go figure.
This is the environment that broke Burry. The compass is broken, the poles have reversed, the Bizarro World is now and everything you ever knew about markets and economics is no longer as rooted in basics, fundamentals and common sense as you thought.
People keep asking whether Burry is “wrong” or whether he’s “lost it,” and the truth is simpler: Burry isn’t wrong. He just can’t escape the tractor beam of a market that has stopped behaving like a market.
The AI boom looks like the dot-com bubble on creatine. The Nasdaq and the S&P hit record highs while half the underlying components are losing money and several of the biggest winners trade at multiples reserved for religious deities, not software companies. Passive inflows turn everything into a momentum chase. Options trading distorts supply and demand. Gamma squeezes launch fundamentally useless companies into the stratosphere. Tesla did it. GameStop did it. Dozens of others have done it.
The only thing in this market that does make sense is that, given what is happening, shorts are getting carried out. As I told Julia:
“Everything is so unnatural… it makes sense that shorts are getting carried out.”
In markets and in life, the sign above my old Korean grocer in Philadelphia had it right: “You never need patience more than when you’re about to lose it.”
That line stays with me because it applies perfectly to what’s happening now. Shorts need patience at the exact moment the market structure is designed to obliterate it.
Burry stepping back, deregistering his fund, walking away from managing outside capital — that doesn’t signal weakness. It signals awareness. It signals someone looking at conditions so distorted, so liquidity-fattened, so unmoored from fundamentals that the only rational choice is to stop playing until the distortions resolve themselves.
And frankly, these moves feel like the kind of thing you see near tops, not bottoms. They feel like the sigh of exhaustion that happens when the people who understand the mechanics best finally stop fighting the tide. Because at the end of the day, this is not a market that has transcended reality. This is a market that has been postponing reality for a really long time — and postponements end.
When the liquidity recedes, when passive flows slow, when earnings disappointment finally matters again, when the bid that has kept garbage alive evaporates, the snapback will happen quickly. The fundamentals Burry sees will still be there. The distortions won’t be.
Burry is right. He’s just refusing to play a game whose rules have become incompatible with sanity. And when the music stops, all the things he sees — all the things shorts have been screaming about for years — will show up not as doomerism but as hindsight. The market always comes back to reality. It just likes to wait until everyone has convinced themselves that it never will.
When reality returns, Burry won’t look wrong. He’ll look early — right up until the moment he looks inevitable. Patience and reality haven’t disappeared; they’ve just been buried under liquidity. But they always re-emerge. Slowly, then violently.
Godspeed, Mr. Burry.
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"This letter concerns your relationship with Tiger Management LLC. It is important that you read it and the enclosures carefully and thoroughly.
In May of 1980, Thorpe McKenzie and I started the Tiger funds with total capital of 8.8 million dollars. Eighteen years later, the 8.8 million had grown to 21 billion, and increase of over 259,000%.
Our compound rate of return to partners during this period after all fees was 31.7%. No one had a better record.
Since August of 1998, the Tiger funds have stumbled badly and Tiger investors have voted strongly negatively with their pocketbooks, understandably so.
During that period, Tiger investors withdrew some 7.7 billion dollars of funds. The result of the demise of value investing and investor withdrawals has been financial erosion, stressful to us all. And there is no real indication that a quick end is in sight.
And what do I mean by, ”there is no quick end in sight”? What is ”end” the end of? ”End” is the end of the bear market in value stocks.
It is the recognition that equities with cash-on-cash returns of 15 to 25% regardless of their short-term market performance are great investments.
”End” in this case means a beginning by investors overall to put aside momentum and potential short-term gains in highly speculative stocks to take the more assured, yet still historically high returns available in out-of-favor equities.
There is a lot of talk now about the New Economy (meaning Internet, technology and telecom). Certainly the Internet is changing the world and the advances from biotechnology will be equally amazing.
Technology and telecommunications bring us opportunities none of us have dreamed of. ”Avoid the Old Economy and invest in the New and forget about price,” proclaim the pundits. And in truth, that has been the way to invest over the last eighteen months.
As you have heard me say on many occasions, the key to Tiger’s success over the years has been a steady commitment to buying the best stocks and shorting the worst.
In a rational environment, this strategy functions well. But in an irrational market, where earnings and price considerations take a back seat to mouse clicks and momentum, such logic, as we have learned, does not count for much.
The current technology, Internet and telecom craze, fueled by the performance desires of investors, money managers and even financial buyers, is unwittingly creating a Ponzi pyramid destined for collapse.
The tragedy is, however, that the only way to generate short-term performance in the current environment is to buy these stocks. That makes the process self-perpetuating until the pyramid eventually collapses under its own excess.
I have great faith though that, ”this, too, will pass.” We have seen manic periods like this before and I remain confident that despite the current disfavor in which it is held, value investing remains the best course.
There is just too much reward in certain mundane, Old Economy stocks to ignore. This is not the first time that value stocks have taken a licking. Many of the great value investors produced terrible returns from 1970 through 1975 and from 1980 to 1981 but then they came back in spades.
The difficulty is predicting when this change will occur and in this regard I have no advantage. What I do know is that there is no point in subjecting our investors to risk in a market which I frankly do not understand.
Consequently, after thorough consideration, I have decided to return all capital to our investors, effectively bringing down the curtain on the Tiger funds. We have already largely liquefied the portfolio and plan to return assets as outlined in the attached plan.
No one wishes more than I that I had taken this course earlier. Regardless, it has been an enjoyable and rewarding twenty years. The triumphs have by no means been totally diminished by the recent setbacks.
Since inception, an investment in Tiger has grown eighty-fivefold net of fees; more than three times the average of the S&P 500 and five-and-a half times that of the Morgan Stanley Capital International World Index.
The best part by far has been the opportunity to work closely with a unique cadre of coworkers and investors.
For every minute of it, the good times and the bad, the victories and the defeats, I speak for myself and a multitude of Tigers past and present who thank you from the bottom of our hearts."
Julian Robertson
March 2000
"a liquidity-driven hallucination."
The best one-line description of today's market I have ever heard or read or seen!
Truly.