Three-Cylinder Ambition
The Monday Blueprint 1.06.25 and Last Week's Market Report
The problem with required bed rest waiting for a broken ankle to heal is that you have to manage a lot of unscheduled time just sitting around in bed waiting. And so I’ve been binging a bit of TV—specifically Better Call Saul, Breaking Bad, and the thing that doesn’t belong in that line up: Ted Lasso. I mean, saying that Ted is the antithesis of Walter White is probably an incredible understatement.
My wife has repeatedly told me she does not like me watching Better Caul Saul because she feels like I look up to him too much. And yeah, I absolutely do.
Jimmy McGill’s moral compass is unsteady. While he has moments of genuine care and kindness—such as helping elderly clients with estate planning—his survival instincts and desire for success often override his ethics. He’s a master of bending rules and rationalizing his actions with a "no harm, no foul" philosophy.
Jimmy’s transformation into Saul Goodman is descent and metamorphosis. While he begins as an underdog trying to do right, the repeated rejection by society—particularly his brother and the legal community—fuels his embrace of Saul Goodman’s flamboyant, morally bankrupt identity. The shift is tragic, showing how systemic failures and personal flaws conspire to turn an ambitious man into a corrupted one.
As Gene Takavic in the post-Breaking Bad timeline, Jimmy/Saul faces the consequences of his actions, living in paranoia and struggling with the tension between hiding and seeking redemption.
In the finale, Jimmy (operating under his "Gene Takavic" alias) is caught after his latest scheme spirals out of control. Facing a mountain of evidence, he’s advised to take a plea deal. True to form, Jimmy manipulates the system masterfully. He uses his charm, legal savvy, and a sprinkle of self-pity to negotiate an absurdly favorable sentence—just seven years in a cushy federal prison. It’s classic Saul Goodman: slippery, strategic, and completely self-serving.
But then, something extraordinary happens.
Jimmy upends his own deal, effectively sabotaging his years-long streak of self-preservation. He publicly confesses to his role in Walter White’s empire, implicates himself in Chuck’s tragic downfall, and willingly accepts a much harsher sentence. It’s a stunning act of self-sabotage—or, more accurately, an act of integrity.
This decision isn’t about winning or escaping, two of Jimmy’s lifelong obsessions. Instead, it’s about finally taking responsibility. He rejects the easy out, even when it’s within his grasp, and chooses the harder path. It’s a moment of raw honesty that feels both redemptive and tragic.
Jimmy’s final act doesn’t undo his past crimes or magically absolve him. He remains a deeply flawed man who caused untold damage to those around him. Redemption, in the traditional sense, isn’t on the table. But integrity—choosing to be honest and accountable, even when it costs him everything—is a different kind of victory.
This ending redefines success for Jimmy McGill. He may not walk away a free man, but he walks away as himself, stripped of pretense and the personas he used to shield himself. It’s a quiet triumph, one that doesn’t erase his past but gives him a measure of dignity in the present.
Jimmy’s decision mirrors the show’s ethos: life is messy, morality is gray, and redemption often comes in unexpected forms. His choice doesn’t negate his flaws but acknowledges them, creating a conclusion that feels true to his character and the series’ central themes. It’s not about erasing the past—it’s about facing it head-on, with open eyes and no shortcuts.
Jimmy McGill doesn’t become a hero, but he does become whole. And for a character as fractured and morally compromised as Jimmy, that’s the most profound transformation of all.
Moving forward into the Breaking Bad, one of the most profound, most powerful scenes that hits a hard home for me is when Gus Fring asks Walter, “What does a man do?”
This scene is a masterclass in subtlety, power dynamics, and character development. At this point in the show, Skyler has confirmed Walt’s second cell phone, learned that the Schwartz’s have not paid for his cancer treatment, and discovered Walt’s drug dealing. She has served him divorce papers, has moved out of the house with the kids. Walter believes he has enough money, believes that he has provided with his family, and believes his choices have been incredible sacrifices that have destroyed his relationships. But Gus loves his meth, loves his product, and needs Walt to get back to work.
Two men locked in a high-stakes chess game, Gus begins his line of questioning with precision:
Gus: “What does a man do?”
Walter is caught off guard. He hesitates, clearly uncertain where Gus is leading him. Says what he’s done has actually cost him his family. Yet, Gus presses forward, defining his version of masculinity and responsibility:
Gus: “A man provides. And he does it even when he's not appreciated, or respected, or even loved. He simply bears up and he does it. Because he’s a man.”
Gus’s question is framed around traditional notions of masculinity, where a man’s worth is tied to his ability to provide and endure. It’s a deliberate appeal to Walter’s pride and self-image as a husband and father, playing on Walter’s insecurities about his role in his family.
Gus doesn’t explicitly demand Walter’s obedience either; instead, he manipulates him by appealing to his sense of duty and identity. Gus’s words carry a veneer of nobility. But in this context, it’s a chilling rationalization for the violence and destruction that come with the drug trade. It mirrors Walter’s own justification for his actions.
This moment forces Walter to confront his own motivations. He has repeatedly claimed that everything he does is for his family, but Gus’s words challenge him to consider the cost of that justification.
Walter internalizes Gus’s philosophy, using it to rationalize his increasingly dark choices. The idea that “a man provides” becomes a cornerstone of Walter’s identity as he descends further into the Heisenberg persona.
Gus’s words are both inspiring and terrifying, depending on how they’re interpreted. For Walter, they serve as both a justification and a challenge, pushing him deeper into moral abyss.
The question “What does a man do?” is one of the defining inquiries of Breaking Bad. It encapsulates Walter’s journey and the moral compromises he makes in the name of providing.
This scene is a haunting reminder of how easily noble ideals can be corrupted—and how, in the world of Breaking Bad, the line between provider and destroyer is razor-thin.
While Walter’s journey revolves around how far he’ll go for his family, Saul’s story is about how far he can push others to get what he wants. His ability to read people’s emotions and exploit their vulnerabilities isn’t just a survival tactic; it’s the foundation of his success. He excels at reading people’s emotions and identifying their vulnerabilities, tailoring his approach to make people feel he’s their ally, even as he manipulates them for his own gain.
Similarly, real estate professionals are often trained to navigate this same gray area. By probing deeply into a client’s objections, agents aim to dismantle resistance, sometimes steering decisions in ways that prioritize closing deals over the client’s true best interest. A “no,” both in Saul’s world and in sales, is rarely a definitive answer.
It’s an opening for deeper manipulation—flipping objections into agreements that may benefit the agent more than the buyer or seller.
The Millionaire Real Estate Agent reframes this tactic of course, suggesting ways to educate and "motive-aid" buyers rather than outright exploit vulnerabilities.
"While it's true you can't motivate a buyer, you can 'motive-aid' them. There are proven ways you can educate buyers on the market, support their tapping into their personal reasons for moving, and help them overcome their fears in order to rally them to become buyers now."
"If you are to reach your sales goals […], you must develop strategy for returning buyers to reason and confidence. You must help them understand that this is a good time to buy—not because it benefits you, but because it benefits them."
Real estate scripts often use carefully crafted language to guide clients toward predetermined answers, echoing Saul’s manipulation tactics. For example:
Asking leading questions designed to elicit agreement.
Framing options in a way that backs clients into a corner, leaving them with limited choices that align with the agent’s goals.
Leveraging psychological techniques like urgency (e.g., “This house won’t last!”) to pressure clients into decisions.
Saul Goodman’s courtroom and negotiation tactics mirror these strategies: he reframes situations to corner adversaries into making decisions that benefit him, even when it’s against their better judgment. Similarly, The Millionaire Real Estate Agent advocates tapping into clients' deeper motivations:
"Tapping into someone's list of reasons is getting them in touch with their heart as well as their head. Invariably, a factual reason for buying has an emotional string attached to it."
While this sounds empathetic, it underscores how deeply understanding motivations can be a tool for persuasion, ethical or otherwise. The line between guiding and manipulating can blur, particularly when probing into emotional pain points to drive decisions.
And working on commission upon the behalf of a buyer can very easily create an inherent conflict of interest. Much like Saul Goodman, who wears the guise of a law-abiding attorney while often serving his own ends, realtors can exploit this tension. Steering clients toward higher-priced properties under the pretext of fiduciary duty to gain a higher commission is an example where financial incentives clash with true client advocacy. The line between provider and destoyer razor-thin.
Of course, Gary Keller’s The Millionaire Real Estate Agent emphasizes the importance of staying on the right side of legality with this mantra:
"Disclose! Disclose! Disclose! Disclaim! Disclaim! Disclaim!"
But just like Saul Goodman, who thrives on exploiting loopholes while staying technically within legal boundaries, the idea of working in the gray area can become a central strategy. Saul's career is built upon carefully maneuvering within the boundaries of legality while pushing moral limits.
In real estate, this might manifest as:
Subtly suggesting higher bids without explicitly violating ethical codes.
“Stretching the truth” about market conditions or competing offers to gently nudge clients toward a decision.
Before I got involved in real estate, I often assumed or saw the profession as a kind of used car salesman easy way to make a quick buck.
I also thought I understood money. I’d read the books, listened to the podcasts, and followed the rules: avoid debt, budget carefully, save where you can. But no one told me what to do when you’re already in debt—real debt. The kind of debt you can’t just tighten your belt and escape from. Student loan debt that follows you everywhere, rent that climbs higher every year, and a grocery bill that suddenly includes $5 eggs. No one tells you what to do when, at the end of the paycheck, there’s nothing left. When you’re already doing without, and there’s still not enough.
When I pulled into the parking lot for my first real estate training, I wasn’t thinking about Jaguars or Audis. I was thinking about how I’d just started this new career because I was tired of making trade-offs. I wanted to buy the extra package of cheese at the grocery store without worrying. I wanted to pick up fresh broccoli instead of settling for pasta again. That’s all I wanted—just enough to stop living paycheck to paycheck, to stop feeling like I was always one unexpected bill away from disaster.
And then I saw the cars.
Mercedes-Benz GLE-Class. Range Rovers. An Audi. A Lexus. A Jaguar. These weren’t just cars—they were statements. They screamed success, stability, luxury. And there I was, climbing out of my beat-up Ford Fusion, the car I’d scraped together just enough to keep running. It felt like a punch in the gut. Not because I wanted a Jaguar, but because I couldn’t imagine ever being the kind of person who could even think about affording one.
That’s when I started thinking about what Dave Ramsey and Suze Orman don’t teach you. They’re great at telling you how to pay off debt or save for a rainy day, but they never seem to have an answer for how to make more money. What do you do when you’ve already cut every corner? When there’s no cable to cancel, no subscription to drop, no extra spending to eliminate? When you’re already choosing pasta over fresh broccoli, not because you like it, but because it’s cheap? Ramsey’s advice is all about managing what you already have—but what if what you have just isn’t enough?
I’d spent years internalizing the idea that ambition was selfish, that wanting more was somehow wrong. But sitting in that parking lot, staring at those luxury cars, I realized something: it wasn’t about wanting more. It was about wanting enough. Enough to breathe. Enough to stop worrying. Enough to feel like I could provide for myself without sacrificing everything I wanted along the way.
And maybe that’s where ambition comes in. For so long, I’d told myself that driving my beat-up Ford and scraping by was noble, that it was responsible. But was it really? Was it responsible to work myself to the bone and still feel like I was failing? Was it responsible to let debt and scarcity dictate my choices, to keep myself small because I was afraid to want more? Gus Fring was right—a “man” does provide, even when he’s not appreciated or loved. And maybe that means being willing to push for more, not out of greed, but out of necessity.
And if that’s true, then maybe Walter White’s ambition wasn’t all bad. Maybe Jimmy McGill’s relentless drive to push people wasn’t entirely wrong. Someone’s always going to push—whether it’s the landlord raising rent, the grocery store hiking prices, or the real estate agent steering you toward a bigger house than you can afford. So why shouldn’t it be me? At least I’d know why I was doing it. At least I’d be trying to make enough to buy fresh broccoli and pasta.
Ted Lasso, however, at its core, excels at blending lighthearted comedy with moments of profound emotional resonance. It’s laugh-out-loud funny, but it also explores heavier themes like mental health, forgiveness, vulnerability, and the importance of being present for others.
Plus, I often finish an episode in absolute tears. Okay not often. Always. Every dang time.
I feel like the Breaking Bad franchise might be more well-known than Ted Lasso. So the upshot here is that the series follows the story of an American college football coach, Ted Lasso, who is unexpectedly hired to manage a struggling English soccer team, AFC Richmond, despite knowing next to nothing about the sport. The team’s owner, Rebecca Welton, secretly hires Ted as part of a scheme to sabotage the club (which she inherited from her ex-husband) and get back at him. However, Ted’s relentless optimism and genuine care for people slowly start to win over the team, the staff, and Rebecca herself.
Ted Lasso is unapologetically wholesome but avoids being saccharine or preachy. Its humor is sharp and witty, often layered with pop culture references, wordplay, and endearing quirkiness. The emotional beats are sincere without feeling manipulative, making it a show that genuinely feels good to watch.
Ted’s unwavering belief in people’s potential serves as the emotional backbone of the series. He faces challenges with humor, curiosity, and a can-do spirit, demonstrating that kindness is not a weakness but a strength. He often quotes Walt Whitman’s line, “Be curious, not judgmental,” encouraging characters to seek understanding rather than make snap judgments.
The show reframes what winning means, focusing more on personal growth and community.
I’m not sure how any of this connects. With money, binge watching TV while waiting around for my ankle to heal. Or even my previous misconceptions about real estate, or that when my Ford finally fell apart I still didn’t buy that Jaguar instead I purchased a three cylinder Mitsubishi with belts that scream when they get wet.
But. The line between provider and destoyer? Razor-thin.
LAST WEEK IN THE STOCK MARKET:
Santa’s Gone, but Weed Sticks Around
Two weeks ago the U.S. markets took a slight dip, with all three major indices posting losses whereas this last week in the stock market, we saw consistent upward momentum. And in fact, over the last two years, we’ve seen gains for the S&P 500 of more than 20%—something that hasn’t happened since 1997-98.
Last week, the S&P 500 rose 1.26%, the Dow Jones climbed 0.80%, and the Nasdaq led the pack with a 1.77% gain. Europe on the other hand faced challenges amid investor concerns over interest rates and weaker-than-expected growth indicators. This divergence highlights growing European concerns over inflation and weaker-than-expected growth.
Big Themes to Watch:
1. Tech Rebounds with a Bang:
After closing 2024 with a Santa Claus rally1 no-show, tech stocks made a dramatic comeback. Nvidia's 4.5% gain Friday capped a strong start to the year, alongside Tesla's impressive 8% jump. Analysts remain bullish on Nvidia despite concerns over shipment delays for its Blackwell AI chips, citing robust AI-driven growth potential.
2. Jobs Data in Focus:
The December jobs report brought much-needed clarity to the labor market. Employers added an estimated 153,000 jobs, down from 227,000 in November, signaling gradual cooling. Unemployment held steady at 4.2%, reinforcing the Federal Reserve's confidence in achieving a “soft landing.” Investors are watching how this labor data will influence the Fed’s rate decisions at its Jan. 30-31 meeting.
3. Big Tech Growing Pains:
While tech stocks rebounded, last year’s sell-off highlighted vulnerabilities. Bank of America analysts pointed to a rotation of capital from semiconductors to software, creating temporary pressure on chipmakers like Nvidia. However, analysts see these issues as short-term, with Nvidia's valuation poised for significant growth in 2025.
4. European Weakness vs. U.S. Strength:
While U.S. markets roared back, Europe struggled. The CAC 40 and DAX tumbled over 1.5% each, driven by ongoing inflation fears and softer-than-expected growth. This divergence reflects a global economy still recovering unevenly.
Looking Ahead
The next few weeks are shaping up to be full of events that could have a big impact on the economy and stock market. Nvidia will give a keynote speech at the CES tech conference, while companies like Delta Airlines, Constellation Brands (beer), and Tilray (weed) will release their earnings reports. Meanwhile, back in my early twenties, I’d never thought I’d read an economic report that mentions canabis.
The Federal Reserve has its first meeting of 2025 coming up. Investors will be paying close attention to see if the Fed hints at lowering interest rates, which can make borrowing cheaper and boost economic activity.
Economists think the labor market will keep cooling off slowly, which could help bring inflation under control. But if there are unexpected changes, like fewer jobs being created or prices rising faster than expected, it could throw off this balancing act.
Additionally, despite the phenomenal two-year streak, analysts predict only moderate increases for 2025. Maybe only a 12% gain for the S&P 500 by the end of the year.
A Santa Claus Rally refers to a historical phenomenon where the stock market tends to rise during the last week of December and the first two trading days of January. This period typically includes the last five trading days of the year and the first two of the new year. Why does it happen? No one knows for sure but there are some theories.
Investor Optimism: People feel more positive and confident about the new year, and that optimism spills over into stock purchases.
Year-End Tax Strategies: Investors may have completed their tax-loss selling (selling stocks at a loss to offset gains) earlier in December, leaving room for buying toward the end of the month.
Holiday Spirit: Many large institutional investors are on vacation, leaving the markets in the hands of retail investors who are more likely to trade on optimism.
Bonuses and Fund Flows: Some people reinvest year-end bonuses, and fund managers buy stocks to improve the appearance of their portfolios for year-end reporting (known as "window dressing").
Reduced Trading Volumes: Lower trading activity during the holidays can amplify market moves, leading to more noticeable gains.
While historically a Santa Claus Rally is common, it’s not guaranteed, and some interpret the absence of a rally as declining market confidence and the potential for falling prices in the year ahead. In short, it's a quirky but notable pattern that reflects the market's tendency to "feel festive" around the holidays! 🎅📈
And also for your information, I’m kinda new to paying attention to all this stock market stuff, and writing is one of the main ways I learn. So the footnote here, probably more for me than you.