Cnn Stock Quotes

Daddy said the world was dividing into two camps: runners and nesters. Runners headed for the hills—or Thunder Mountain. Nesters boarded up the windows, stocked up on the canned goods and ammunition, and kept the TV tuned to CNN 24/7.

Here’s something you may not know: every time you go to Facebook or ESPN.com or wherever, you’re unleashing a mad scramble of money, data, and pixels that involves undersea fiber-optic cables, the world’s best database technologies, and everything that is known about you by greedy strangers. Every. Single. Time. The magic of how this happens is called “real-time bidding” (RTB) exchanges, and we’ll get into the technical details before long. For now, imagine that every time you go to CNN.com, it’s as though a new sell order for one share in your brain is transmitted to a stock exchange. Picture it: individual quanta of human attention sold, bit by bit, like so many million shares of General Motors stock, billions of times a day. Remember Spear, Leeds & Kellogg, Goldman Sachs’s old-school brokerage acquisition, and its disappearing (or disappeared) traders? The company went from hundreds of traders and two programmers to twenty programmers and two traders in a few years. That same process was just starting in the media world circa 2009, and is right now, in 2016, kicking into high gear. As part of that shift, one of the final paroxysms of wasted effort at Adchemy was taking place precisely in the RTB space. An engineer named Matthew McEachen, one of Adchemy’s best, and I built an RTB bidding engine that talked to Google’s huge ad exchange, the figurative New York Stock Exchange of media, and submitted bids and ads at speeds of upwards of one hundred thousand requests per second. We had been ordered to do so only to feed some bullshit line Murthy was laying on potential partners that we were a real-time ads-buying company. Like so much at Adchemy, that technology would be a throwaway, but the knowledge I gained there, from poring over Google’s RTB technical documentation and passing Google’s merciless integration tests with our code, would set me light-years ahead of the clueless product team at Facebook years later.

When I return to my mom’s room, it’s like seeing it for the first time: there on the bedside table are my notes, lists of medications, doctors’ phone numbers. Next to the trash can is a scattered pile of orange peels. A pale blue curtain used to divide the room is pushed back, revealing a wheelchair in the corner. I can hear the oxygen concentrator on the other side of her bed, pumping air into the tube beneath her nose. There is a huge vase of roses and hoary stock, sent from Guy, their colors bright against the drab, and on the muted TV, Fox News or CNN—it doesn’t matter. She just likes the company. “Mom.” My voice cracks. “You shouldn’t make a mess, the nurses have enough to do.” I collect the orange rinds without looking at her and put them in the trash. “I’m so uncomfortable,” she complains. “And I don’t like the nurse on duty tonight. She’s the one I told you about. Big Russian woman.

On December 7, 1999, Kevin Landis, portfolio manager of the Firsthand mutual funds, appeared on CNN’s Moneyline telecast. Asked if wireless telecommunication stocks were overvalued—with many trading at infinite multiples of their earnings—Landis had a ready answer. “It’s not a mania,” he shot back. “Look at the outright growth, the absolute value of the growth. It’s big.