A top researcher announced today that AI is not a bubble, it’s sudden acceleration, like the economy sat in a self-driving car and the car decided it was time to meet Jupiter. Investors nodded, wrote down “engine: go vroom,” and asked whether Jupiter was trading at a discount.

For months, fund managers have been tapping their screens, whispering “bubble” like it’s a safe word, and waiting for gravity to remember its job. Meanwhile, AI floored the economy’s accelerator, knocked over the office ficus, and started ordering more electricity than a theme park built entirely out of hair dryers.

The researcher demonstrated acceleration using a whiteboard and a chair with 500 GPUs duct-taped to it. He pushed the chair gently, it broke the sound barrier, and a compliance officer tried to 10-K the wind. “This isn’t froth,” he explained. “This is physics doing cocaine with compounding.”

I should say I report on business by reading what everyone promises to read later. Filings, call transcripts, footnotes — I chew until the story shows its math. My tone is steady, my conclusions are earned, and on certain Fridays I allow myself one merciful joke about “one-time charges” that keep texting me “u up?”

What the acceleration folks are seeing: data centers breeding like caffeinated rabbits, electricity demand asking for a manager, and cloud vendors panic‑buying liquid immersion cooling kit because the servers are sweating through their blazers. If this is a bubble, it’s the kind that requires a dedicated substation and a zoning hearing.

On earnings calls, companies insist they are “investing through the cycle,” which is CFO for “we found a rocket, we’re taping ourselves to it, please ignore the sound.” Guidance is now measured in FLOPS per fire code violation and gross margin per melted extension cord.

Analysts updated their models by switching from pencil to crayon, then declared a sophisticated Monte Carlo scenario where the car is Mario and the track is Rainbow Road. The discounted cash flow is no longer discounted; it’s surge-priced and brings its own smoke machine.

Retail investors, meanwhile, are either buying anything named after a constellation or learning to pronounce “tensor” with feeling. That’s how you end up with retirees Googling PCIe AI accelerator card at 3 a.m., whispering, “Is this dividend-eligible or does it just scream?”

“Not a bubble,” the researcher repeated, “because bubbles are fragile and short on paperwork. This is heavy infrastructure that sues you if you look at it funny.” Tulips don’t ask for liquid cooling and an interconnect that sounds like a Scandinavian detective.

In the filings, you can see the acceleration: capex graphs that look like wall climbs, footnotes that have footnotes, and roadmaps that read like evacuation plans. Everyone swears these are temporary spikes, right up until the temporary spikes ask for health insurance and keycards.

If you’re worried about sudden acceleration, take your foot off the rug: the floor’s on a conveyor belt now. Strategies are being flung into the future at a speed that qualifies for frequent flyer status, and compliance is passing out airsickness bags embossed with “forward-looking.”

So yes, investors missing the story are busy watching for bubbles while the economy does 0 to existential in three quarters. Buckle up, hydrate, and expense the airbags — because when the quarter closes, the only thing popping is your inbox, and it’s my old friend, a “one-time charge” asking if it can crash on your balance sheet again.