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  • Thomas Laffont of Coatue on the $4 Trillion AI IPO Wave: SpaceX, Anthropic, OpenAI, and Why the New Unicorn Economy Is Healthier

    Thomas Laffont, co-founder of the $55 billion hedge fund Coatue Management, made his All-In Podcast premiere with a data-dense walk through what he calls a once-in-a-generation moment for the unicorn economy. In front of Chamath Palihapitiya, Jason Calacanis, David Sacks, and David Friedberg, he argued that a roughly $4 trillion wave of private value is about to hit the public markets, led by SpaceX, Anthropic, and OpenAI, and that the new AI-driven unicorn economy is actually healthier than the one that came before it. You can watch the full presentation and Q&A on YouTube.

    TLDW

    Laffont presents Coatue’s slide deck on the state of the unicorn economy and argues it has rebalanced after the excesses of 2021. The average unicorn is up about 70 percent since September 2024, AI keeps taking a bigger share of all fundraising, and the model has shifted from many small unicorns to fewer companies each raising far more, with funding per unicorn up roughly 5x since 2021. He introduces a “Magnificent 8” private index (SpaceX, Stripe, Anthropic, Databricks, Revolut, ByteDance, Anduril, and more) worth nearly $4 trillion that has crushed the public Mag 7, then shows that exits are finally thawing as SpaceX heads to an IPO in weeks and Anthropic confidentially files its S1. He lays out Coatue’s “CODE” framework for why SpaceX gets more valuable the more it launches, a counterintuitive finding that the odds of a 10x actually rise as companies get bigger (31 percent for $100 billion-plus centicorns), the explosive revenue ramp of OpenAI and Anthropic past Workday, ServiceNow, Adobe, Salesforce, and now the hyperscalers, a three-pillar map of where AI revenue comes from (consumer, ads, enterprise), and the AI memory thesis. The Q&A with Chamath and Calacanis digs into the power law, K-shaped outcomes, whether these valuations are disconnected from reality, the public market as the great antiseptic, and what happens when trillions in private value finally recycles back through GPs and LPs.

    Thoughts

    The most useful idea in the talk is not the $4 trillion headline, it is the cohort-health chart. Laffont splits unicorns into eras and shows that the pre-2021 cohort was healthy, roughly 80 percent had raised again or exited 20 quarters after minting, while the giant 2021 ZIRP cohort of 479 companies is stuck with under 20 percent doing either. That single comparison reframes the whole AI boom. The bullish read is that the 2024 AI cohort is small, concentrated, and cash-generative, so it looks more like the healthy pre-ZIRP group than the 2021 hangover. The bearish read is that we are watching the same movie with bigger numbers, and the test only comes when these companies face public markets. Laffont is honest that we do not yet know which cohort the AI class resembles, and that intellectual humility is what makes the deck credible rather than promotional.

    The SpaceX “CODE” framework is the sharpest analytical move of the presentation. Most people would assume a launch business gets cheaper per launch as it scales. Laffont shows the opposite, the market pays more per launch as cadence rises, and explains it as a phase change in business quality: from one-time government launch revenue, to a single recurring-revenue constellation, to multiple constellations, to a platform with optional upside in space data centers, the moon, and Mars. It is a clean way to think about any company that climbs from a project business to a platform business, and it applies far beyond rockets. The lesson for investors is that valuation can rationally expand even as unit economics look like they should compress, because the nature of the revenue underneath is changing.

    The counterintuitive 10x odds finding deserves more attention than it got in the room. Conventional wisdom says the bigger you are, the harder it is to grow, so a $100 billion company should be less likely to 10x than a $10 billion one. Coatue’s data says the reverse: centicorns have a 31 percent shot at a 10x, far higher than the 8 percent a unicorn has at becoming a decacorn. Laffont’s explanation is a filtering mechanism, every step up validates a compounding advantage and durability of earnings, so survivors are increasingly the kind of business that keeps compounding. This is essentially a quantitative restatement of quality investing, and it is the intellectual backbone of the LP strategy the besties tease out, just buy whoever reaches $100 billion and hold.

    Where the argument gets genuinely contested is valuation, and the panel does not let it slide. The pushback that “these are not fake companies” is true and important, OpenAI and Anthropic are growing faster than any software company in history, and Anthropic reportedly had a profitable month. But growth and reality do not settle the question of price when you are paying 50 to 100 times revenue for trillion-dollar private companies, as Bill Ackman pointed out earlier in the day. Laffont’s answer is the most grounded thing he says all session: the public market is the great antiseptic, it will not care about anyone’s slide deck, and he wants to see these names withstand short sellers and skeptics. That is the right posture. The deck is a thesis, not a verdict, and the verdict arrives roughly six months and one day after the IPOs, once passive flows and supply have washed through.

    The closing thread, that almost every sector is being transformed at once and we still do not have superintelligence, is the part worth sitting with. The risk in a presentation this bullish is treating the trend as destiny. The value is in the framing tools Laffont hands you, cohort health, phase-change business quality, the filtering odds, the three revenue pillars, and the antiseptic of public scrutiny. Use those to interrogate each name rather than to buy the index on faith, and the talk earns its premiere billing.

    Key Takeaways

    • Coatue Management is one of the most successful hedge funds of the last two decades with about $55 billion under management, and is raising roughly another billion dollars specifically to invest in AI.
    • The unicorn economy is up about 70 percent on average since September 2024, and the public market has made a similar move up over the same period.
    • The unicorn economy’s share of the NASDAQ rose significantly after 2015 but has plateaued in recent years, reflecting strong performance from public companies.
    • AI keeps increasing its wallet share of all venture fundraising, multiple years in a row now.
    • The composition of funding has changed. The unicorn “factory” peaked in the ZIRP era of 2021 and has normalized at a much lower level since.
    • Funding per unicorn has increased roughly 5x since 2021. There are fewer unicorns, and each one is raising more.
    • Cohort health, pre-ZIRP group: of about 73 unicorns, 20 quarters after minting roughly 80 percent had either raised a new round or exited, which is healthy.
    • Cohort health, 2021 group: of about 479 unicorns, 20 quarters in, fewer than 20 percent had exited or raised again. Far larger cohort, far worse outcomes.
    • The open question is which cohort the new 2024 AI cohort will resemble.
    • Funding is concentrating: the top 10 companies capture a large share, and it is a small number of AI companies, not all of them, with Anthropic and OpenAI raising massive rounds.
    • Laffont proposes a “Magnificent 8” private index: SpaceX, Stripe, Anthropic, Databricks, Revolut, ByteDance, Anduril, and more, spanning internet, AI, fintech, and space tech.
    • That private index represents almost $4 trillion of value and has crushed the traditional public Mag 7, with almost every name outperforming.
    • Exits are thawing. 2026 is on a good trend for cash returned versus consumed, not quite 2021 levels, with half a year still to go.
    • That trend does not yet include three imminent liquidity events: SpaceX (IPO expected in weeks) and Anthropic (confidentially filed its S1), whose combined value could exceed the prior decade of exits combined.
    • The ecosystem is far more balanced than when Laffont first presented at the 2024 All-In Summit, when it was consuming much more cash than it returned.
    • OpenAI and Anthropic revenue growth is unlike anything previously seen. Starting from January 2025, they passed Workday, then ServiceNow, then Adobe, then Salesforce, and are now bigger than Google Cloud and Azure.
    • On current forecasts, that revenue could pass AWS by the end of the year and exceed all of Microsoft by 2028.
    • Hyperscalers are not sitting still. The largest companies in the world are funding the disruption, investing unprecedented sums to enable the ChatGPT moment.
    • The SpaceX “CODE” framework: the number one driver correlated to SpaceX’s valuation is cadence of launches, and valuation per launch rises as launches increase.
    • Why per-launch value rises: business quality improves through phases, pre-constellation (one-time government revenue), initial ramp (one recurring-revenue constellation), scale (multiple constellations), and platform (space data centers, moon and Mars optionality).
    • Anthropic in particular is scaling like no company seen across the PC, internet, or mobile eras.
    • Counterintuitive 10x odds: a unicorn has about an 8 percent chance of becoming a decacorn, a decacorn has 8 to 13 percent odds of reaching $100 billion, but a centicorn ($100 billion-plus) has a 31 percent chance of a 10x.
    • Value creation has accelerated. It typically takes years to go from $500 billion to $1 trillion in market cap, yet recently three companies did it in one year and two did it in a matter of weeks.
    • Cerebras is the counterexample of slow success: years of dark periods and no new capital developing its technology, then a massive OpenAI contract that quintupled the company’s value ahead of its IPO.
    • Semiconductors are on a generational run, with the sector dramatically outperforming the index since the 2024 All-In Summit.
    • AI memory thesis: the more an AI system knows about you, the more useful it is, so memory per user could quintuple, which helps explain recent moves in memory companies.
    • Where the revenue is: the AI ecosystem is roughly $140 billion today, about $300 billion this year, and is expected to double in 2027.
    • Three revenue pillars: consumer (subscribers times ARPU), ads (about a quarter of Meta and Google ads are AI-enabled today, heading toward 100 percent and roughly $150 billion), and enterprise (tools like Claude Code and Codex inside businesses).
    • Disruption is hitting every sector: software, telco (Starlink-powered global phone calls), semis, energy (data centers reshaping Pennsylvania’s grid), auto (Ferrari’s electric and autonomous stumble), and consumer (GLP-1s reshaping food, alcohol, and wellness).
    • Final takeaways: the new unicorn economy is healthier thanks to AI, winners are compounding faster so the cost of not owning a winner is higher than ever, disruption is everywhere, and we do not even have superintelligence yet.
    • In the Q&A, both Anthropic and OpenAI publicly say they want to be public, and big outcomes now look likely to become liquid within roughly a 12-month window.
    • The valuation pushback: these are not fake companies, they generate substantial revenue at scale and grow faster than anything before, and Anthropic reportedly even had a profitable month.
    • The public market is framed as the great equalizer and antiseptic, but with passive buying the true price discovery may not land on day one, more like six months and a day after listing.
    • A floated LP strategy: wait for whoever reaches $100 billion and concentrate capital there as the least brittle, quickest-return bet, tempered by the warning that valuations are disconnecting from any historical metric (50x to 100x revenue).
    • An open risk: with so much capital, OpenAI and Anthropic could rationally start a price war, the way ride-sharing and food-delivery players once did, though heavy infrastructure spend complicates it.

    Detailed Summary

    The unicorn economy has rebalanced after 2021

    Laffont opens by reframing a market many assume is frothy. The average unicorn is up about 70 percent since September 2024, and the public market has tracked a similar climb, so private and public value are moving together rather than diverging. The unicorn economy’s share of the NASDAQ rose sharply after 2015 and then plateaued, which he reads as a sign of how strong public companies have become. Underneath the headline, the structure of funding has changed. The 2021 ZIRP era was a unicorn factory that minted enormous numbers of companies, and that machine has since normalized to a much lower level. The result is a barbell: fewer new unicorns, but each raising far more, with funding per unicorn up roughly 5x since 2021. AI sits at the center of this, taking a steadily larger share of all venture dollars for several years running.

    Cohort health is the real story

    The deck’s most important slide measures the health of the ecosystem by cohort. The pre-ZIRP cohort, about 73 unicorns, looks healthy: 20 quarters after becoming unicorns, roughly 80 percent had either raised a new round or exited. The 2021 cohort tells the opposite story. It is enormous, about 479 unicorns, and 20 quarters in, fewer than 20 percent had raised again or exited. That contrast sets up the central question of the talk. A new 2024 cohort of AI companies is forming, and no one yet knows whether it will resemble the healthy pre-ZIRP group or the bloated, stuck 2021 group. Laffont’s framing leans optimistic because the AI cohort is small and concentrated, but he is careful not to declare the answer.

    The Magnificent 8 and a $4 trillion private index

    Funding is not just flowing to AI, it is flowing to a handful of AI names, with the top 10 capturing a large share and Anthropic and OpenAI raising the biggest rounds. From this concentration Laffont builds a private index he half-jokingly calls the Magnificent 8, a number he expects to shrink as companies go public. The members span sectors: SpaceX, Stripe, Anthropic, Databricks, Revolut, ByteDance, and Anduril, covering internet, AI, fintech, and space tech. He says he would be comfortable owning that index for the next decade-plus. Collectively it represents almost $4 trillion of value and has outperformed the public Mag 7, with nearly every constituent beating that benchmark.

    Exits are thawing and a wall of liquidity is coming

    One of Laffont’s recurring concerns at past summits has been balance: the unicorn economy is great at consuming cash, but a healthy ecosystem must also return it. On that score 2026 is trending well, not quite 2021, but solid with half a year left. Crucially, that figure does not yet include three imminent events. SpaceX is expected to go public within weeks, and Anthropic confidentially filed its S1 the day of the talk. Adding those up, just a few companies could deliver more liquidity than the prior ten years combined. The takeaway is that the ecosystem that was dangerously out of balance in 2024 is now meaningfully more balanced, and improving.

    The revenue ramp past the hyperscalers

    The growth rates of OpenAI and Anthropic, Laffont argues, are unlike anything previously seen. Charting from January 2025, the leading AI labs passed Workday, then ServiceNow, then Adobe by year end, then Salesforce by January, and are now bigger than Google Cloud and Azure. On forecast, that revenue could surpass AWS by the end of the year and exceed all of Microsoft by 2028. He stresses that the hyperscalers are not passive bystanders, they are actively funding the disruption, pouring unprecedented capital into enabling the change that began with the ChatGPT moment.

    The SpaceX CODE framework

    Laffont devotes real time to how Coatue thinks about SpaceX. The single factor most correlated with SpaceX’s valuation is cadence of launches, which is intuitive for a launch business. The surprise is that valuation per launch has risen rather than fallen as cadence climbed. His explanation, the CODE framework, is that the quality of the business model improves the more SpaceX launches. In phase one, pre-constellation, you are simply proving rockets, with a few government customers and lumpy, unpredictable one-time revenue. In the initial ramp you stand up a constellation, which is an end market and a recurring-revenue business that grows with every satellite and subscriber. At scale you operate multiple constellations, and Laffont expects companies, governments, and militaries to want to own their own. Ultimately it becomes a platform, with new businesses layered on top, from space data centers to the optionality of the moon and Mars.

    Counterintuitive odds and the speed of value creation

    Coatue bucketed companies and asked the odds of a 10x within each. A unicorn has roughly an 8 percent chance of becoming a decacorn. A decacorn has 8 to 13 percent odds of reaching $100 billion. But a centicorn, $100 billion or more, has a 31 percent chance of a 10x, counting both public and private companies. The bigger you are, the better your odds, which inverts intuition. Laffont pairs this with the sheer speed of recent value creation. Going from $500 billion to $1 trillion in market cap normally takes years, yet three companies did it in a single year and two did it in a matter of weeks. He also offers Cerebras as the patient counterexample, a chip company that endured years of dark periods and no new capital before a massive OpenAI contract quintupled its value ahead of IPO, part of a broader generational run for semiconductors.

    AI memory and where the revenue actually comes from

    A throughline from the day’s other speakers is that the more an AI knows about you, the more useful it is, from your restaurant preferences to your work context. Laffont turns that into a thesis: memory per user could quintuple based on what these systems require, which helps explain recent moves in memory companies. He then tackles the most contested question, where is the revenue. He sizes the AI ecosystem at about $140 billion today, roughly $300 billion this year, and doubling in 2027, built on three pillars. Consumer is subscribers times ARPU. Ads are the pillar people forget, with about a quarter of Meta and Google ads already AI-enabled and penetration heading toward 100 percent, a roughly $150 billion opportunity. Enterprise is the breakthrough category, exemplified by tools like Claude Code and Codex operating inside businesses.

    Every sector is being transformed at once

    What makes this era different, Laffont says, is that nearly every sector is being transformed simultaneously. Software is obvious, but look at telco, where he believes Starlink will soon power a device that lets you make a phone call anywhere on earth, attacking the global telco and broadband profit pool with a better product. Compute is driving massive change in semis, data centers are reshaping the energy equation in places like Pennsylvania, and the auto business is being upended, as Ferrari’s stumble introducing electric and autonomous technology showed. In consumer, GLP-1 drugs are profoundly changing consumption of food and alcohol and the broader focus on wellness. His takeaways close the loop: the new unicorn economy is healthier thanks to AI, winners are compounding faster so the cost of missing them is higher than ever, disruption is everywhere, and superintelligence has not even arrived yet.

    The Q&A: power law, valuation, and the public market test

    Chamath and Jason Calacanis press Laffont on what this means for allocators. The recurring theme is the power law and K-shaped outcomes, with gains consolidating into a small number of companies. The positive side, Laffont notes, is that outcomes are enormous and increasingly liquid within a 12-month window, and both Anthropic and OpenAI say they want to be public. The hard part is valuation. The besties cite Bill Ackman’s framing that investors are making venture bets on trillion-dollar companies at 50 to 100 times revenue. Laffont’s pushback is that these are not fake companies, they generate substantial revenue at scale and grow faster than anything before, and Anthropic reportedly had a profitable month. But he embraces the discipline ahead: the public market is the great antiseptic and will not care about anyone’s presentation, though with heavy passive buying, true price discovery may take roughly six months and a day rather than landing on day one. Asked whether the compounding is a market inefficiency or survivor bias, he declines to over-read a small sample, noting that Anthropic before Claude Code was a completely different company than after. The conversation closes on what happens when trillions recycle from GPs to LPs, the case for simply owning whoever crosses $100 billion, the risk of everyone crowding into three names, and the possibility of an eventual OpenAI versus Anthropic price war.

    Notable Quotes

    “So we have fewer unicorns that are each raising more.”

    Thomas Laffont, summarizing how funding per unicorn has risen roughly 5x since 2021

    “The reason is that the quality of SpaceX’s business model increases the more you launch.”

    Thomas Laffont, explaining the CODE framework and why valuation per launch rises with cadence

    “The winners are compounding faster than ever, which means the costs of not being in a winner are higher than ever.”

    Thomas Laffont, on the central risk of a power-law market

    “And by the way, we don’t even have super intelligence yet.”

    Thomas Laffont, closing his takeaways on how early the transformation still is

    “These are companies generating substantial revenue at scale that are growing faster than anything we’ve ever seen.”

    Thomas Laffont, pushing back on the idea that AI valuations rest on fake companies

    “It will be the great antiseptic. It will not care about my presentation.”

    Thomas Laffont, on the public market as the ultimate test for SpaceX, OpenAI, and Anthropic

    “Anthropic pre-cloud code was a completely different company than post cloud code.”

    Thomas Laffont, on why he won’t over-read a small sample of hyper-compounders

    “The power law rules our lives. All the great gains are being consolidated into small numbers of companies.”

    An All-In host, framing the Q&A on concentration in private markets

    This is a curated set of highlights. To hear the full presentation, the slide walkthrough, and the complete Q&A with Chamath and Jason Calacanis, watch the full conversation here.

    Related Reading

    • Coatue Management. Primary source for Thomas Laffont’s firm and the technology investing strategy behind the deck.
    • The All-In Podcast. The show and summit where Laffont made this premiere presentation.
    • Power law (Wikipedia). Background on the distribution Laffont and the hosts say governs venture and public-market returns.
    • The Magnificent Seven (Wikipedia). The public-market benchmark Laffont’s private “Magnificent 8” index is measured against.
    • Cerebras Systems. The AI chipmaker Laffont cites as the slow-grind IPO that was eventually transformed by a major OpenAI contract.
  • Paul Graham and Jessica Livingston on Resilience at Y Combinator: Founder Mode, Cockroaches, Sticking to Your North Star, and Why AI and Climate Keep Them Up at Night

    For the very first episode of Disaster Proof, the conversation goes to a garage in Palo Alto to sit down with Paul Graham and Jessica Livingston, the founders of Y Combinator. They have backed thousands of companies, including many now working in the resilience space, and the discussion covers what makes startups durable, why adaptability beats expertise, how Brian Chesky stumbled into founder mode at Airbnb, why the best ideas grow out of a founder’s own life, and the two specific risks (AI and climate change) that Paul says are the only ones he treats as genuinely game over. You can watch the full conversation on YouTube here.

    TLDW

    Paul Graham and Jessica Livingston explain why constant change favors young, flexible founders, and why Y Combinator picks people over ideas precisely so its judgment never goes obsolete. They unpack adaptability as the trait they hunt for in interviews, the “founder mode” story behind Brian Chesky steering Airbnb through COVID, and the 2008 strategy of funding tough, close-to-revenue “cockroaches.” Paul argues a company survives turbulence by sticking to a North Star instead of acting as a weather vane in shifting moral fashions, using the biosphere tree that collapses without wind as his metaphor for resilience. They turn to climate and energy as the next great market, the difficulty of selling into utilities, the Gridware success story, fusion no longer being thirty years away, and the trap of guilt-based business models versus the reliable assumption that users are selfish, greedy, and lazy. The personal-resilience half covers surviving Twitter mobs, Paul’s obsessive essay process, raising kids by indulging curiosity and picking your battles, prepping by living among reasonable people, political polarization, and why AI and climate are the two things that keep them up at night.

    Thoughts

    The most useful idea in this conversation is also the most counterintuitive: a world that feels like it is ending is structurally good for the people least invested in how it used to work. Paul’s point to terrified founders is that change is only a threat if you have sunk costs in the old order. A young founder has been doing the current plan for two weeks, so a step-function shift in the landscape costs them almost nothing to abandon. The incumbents with elaborate machinery and a decade of assumptions are the ones who should be afraid. That reframes resilience away from defense and toward optionality. The resilient party is not the one with the thickest walls, it is the one with the least to unlearn.

    The founder mode discussion is worth sitting with because it quietly overturns a generation of management orthodoxy. The old rule was that a good CEO hires executives and gets out of their way, and that getting into the details is micromanaging. Brian Chesky’s COVID experience at Airbnb broke that rule under maximum pressure. With bankruptcy on the table and a travel company facing a world that stopped traveling, he went line by line through the business and told people what good looked like, then gave them freedom to execute against that standard while still demanding visibility. The interesting nuance is the permission structure. A crisis granted Chesky the license to be involved that normal operating conditions would have framed as meddling. The lesson is not “always be in the weeds,” it is that the founder’s deep understanding and disproportionate caring are assets you are wasting if you reflexively delegate them away.

    Paul’s North Star argument is the part most likely to age well. His claim is that companies fail at resilience when they behave like weather vanes, swinging with each gust of public moral fashion. He pairs it with the biosphere tree that grows weak and topples because it was never exposed to wind. Both metaphors point at the same thing: resilience is built by surviving stress while holding your shape, not by avoiding stress and not by reshaping yourself to whatever the crowd currently rewards. The carbon-credit companies he mentions are the cautionary case. They built their entire premise on a fashion (customer guilt about carbon) and went out of business when the wind changed direction. Durable businesses convert a permanent human motive into value, which is why he prefers the brutally honest assumption that the user is selfish, greedy, and lazy, and that your job is to build something that produces good outcomes anyway.

    The climate and energy section reframes a worthy cause as a market-timing bet rather than a moral appeal, and that is the more powerful version. The comparison to fintech in 2008 is the tell. Banking technology was a sleepy, unglamorous sector that venture investors avoided until a crisis cracked it open and made it one of the best categories of the following decade. The argument is that energy and the physical world are sitting at a similar precipice, made newly viable because hardware is starting to behave more like software (order components, assemble, do not build everything from scratch) and because AI’s hunger for power has made energy the binding constraint on the whole industry. The Gridware story crystallizes the founder lesson underneath all of it. The best founder for a hard physical problem was a lineman who worked the electric lines and lived through the fires. The idea grew authentically out of his life, which is the same pattern Jessica keeps returning to and the same advice they give for raising kids.

    Finally, the personal-resilience material is more practical than it first appears. Paul’s method for surviving a Twitter mob is pattern recognition: once it has happened twenty times, you know it ends in two days and they move on to the next target, so you wait it out instead of capitulating. His essay process is the same conviction-building engine applied to ideas. He goes sentence by sentence until there is no false statement left to attack, which is why his challenge to angry readers (“point out the incorrect statement”) almost never gets answered. The throughline across the company advice, the parenting advice, and the personal advice is identical. You build durable conviction not by sitting in a room thinking, but by working the problem until it is right, then refusing to be blown off course by people who never actually engaged with the substance.

    Key Takeaways

    • Experts are frequently wrong because they are experts in a previous version of the world, so Paul deliberately avoids permanent beliefs about the current state of technology.
    • Y Combinator picks startups by picking founders, not ideas, because the founders know more about the ideas than the investors do.
    • Living in England and visiting for each batch lets Paul arrive every quarter expecting the world to be different, which keeps his mind open instead of anchored.
    • A world of constant change feels bad but is actually good for a young, flexible founder who has only been on the current plan for two weeks and can switch easily.
    • Vibe coding went from kind-of-works to reliably works, and even experienced programmers now generate huge volumes of code with AI.
    • There is still a software business even with AI, because someone has to know what to tell the AI to write, and no company is going to write its own database from scratch.
    • The scenario Paul worries about is model companies spinning up agents to start all the startups themselves, removing the need for human founders.
    • The founder traits Jessica looks for are unchanged over the years: determined, flexible-minded, and willing to adapt.
    • In interviews you can spot rigid founders because they answer the question they prepared rather than the one they were asked, and the gears visibly grind when you redirect them.
    • A good adaptability signal is a founder who says “I haven’t thought about that, but here is how I would think about it” instead of freezing.
    • Founder mode, the term, came from Brian Chesky’s experience steering Airbnb through COVID, when bankruptcy was openly discussed in board meetings.
    • Ken Chenault, the former American Express CEO on Airbnb’s board, told Chesky the moment was ten times worse than 9/11 and could define the company.
    • Founder mode meant Chesky understood every line item, told people what good looked like, then gave them freedom to execute while still wanting to see it.
    • Founders see through the fog because they understand the company better than anyone and they care more than anyone, and combining understanding with caring lets them see more.
    • There is always some disaster at Y Combinator, the way a hospital always has someone coding, so a crisis is the normal operating environment, not an exception.
    • During the 2008 crash, YC kept funding because it is always a good time to start a startup, but focused on people close to making money and very tough founders they called cockroaches.
    • Airbnb was the ultimate cockroach, seemingly indestructible, which is exactly why they liked it during the meltdown.
    • YC rests on two axioms: startups matter, and founders are the most important ingredient in startups. As long as those hold, YC has room to exist.
    • Company values are usually written down a few years in, documenting principles that already existed rather than inventing new ones.
    • You cannot move with fashion; you have to stick to your North Star, especially during turbulent, noisy times.
    • Trees grown inside a biosphere fell over because they were never exposed to wind, so being blown around is a necessary part of becoming strong enough to stand.
    • What preserves YC most is that it is a fundamentally good idea: it gives lonely founders money, the right peers, and colleagues they would never otherwise have.
    • The measure of a good startup idea is revenue, and any other metric you care about matters only because it predicts revenue.
    • At the early stage you can afford to be virtuous and even tell founders to go back to college, because the power law means one startup in the batch will carry the returns.
    • Every startup has to find early adopters, who decide quickly, usually do not have much money, and tend to be sophisticated, which means utilities are rarely your first customer.
    • A company that ultimately sells to utilities should start by selling to something that says yes faster, like running a pilot on a single corporate campus.
    • Utilities are under so much stress from wildfire liability, renewables, EV charging, and AI demand that they are unusually willing to try new things out of necessity.
    • Gridware, founded by a former lineman who lived through major fires, is now backed by Sequoia with PG&E as a huge customer, an example of an idea growing out of the founder’s life.
    • The second-biggest chunk of YC startups after AI is hard tech and physical products, not because software is dead but because building physical things is getting more possible.
    • Energy is one of AI’s fundamental constraints; if Sam Altman could have two things for Christmas, they would be energy and GPUs.
    • Nobody says fusion is thirty years away anymore, and the old thirty-year number existed because it was far enough out to avoid demands for results but close enough to keep attention.
    • Energy and physical markets may be where fintech was in 2008, a sleepy sector about to be cracked open by crisis into a great decade.
    • Guilt is a fragile business model because fashions change what people feel guilty about, which is why carbon-credit companies collapsed when the winds shifted.
    • Assume the user is selfish, greedy, and lazy, then build something that causes good things to happen anyway, like clean power that is simply cheaper and more reliable.
    • To survive Twitter mobs, remember they move on in about two days, half are bots or people you would never talk to in real life, and you cannot become a weather vane for moral fashions.
    • You build conviction by working on and developing an idea, not by sitting in a room thinking, unless it is pure thought like math.
    • Paul writes essays sentence by sentence until nothing in them is false, which is why his challenge to point out an incorrect statement almost never gets answered.
    • The best startup ideas, and the best projects in life generally, grow authentically out of the founder’s own interests and experiences.
    • Their parenting philosophy is to give kids confidence and a stable base, indulge their curiosity, and encourage projects nobody told them to do.
    • You pick your battles with kids: put your foot down on cruelty, but accept defeat on things like food and screen time.
    • A useful interview question for anyone with an unusual experience is not “what was it like” but “how was it different than you expected,” which surfaces the genuinely novel detail.
    • In a time of turbulence, bet on an island full of reasonable people; the English may not be very dynamic, but they are reasonable.
    • The hope on political polarization is to build resilient institutions that act as a cage around any single leader, so that throwing the rattle makes no difference.
    • AI and climate change are the two things Paul worries about most because they are both potentially game over, like the Gulf Stream reversing and turning Europe into a frozen wasteland.

    Detailed Summary

    Staying an expert when the world keeps changing

    The conversation opens on Paul Graham’s essay “How to Be an Expert in a Changing World,” whose core point is that experts are often wrong because they are experts in a previous version of the world. Asked how he keeps his own beliefs from going obsolete when the landscape can shift in ninety days, Paul says he focuses on people. YC picks founders rather than ideas because the founders know the ideas better than any investor could. He deliberately holds no permanent beliefs about the current state of technology, and the rhythm of flying in from England for each batch helps: he arrives every quarter already expecting everything to be different. One quarter the story is everyone training open-source models, the next quarter it is Claude code and nobody bothers with open-source models because the frontier versions are better anyway. He comes in with a completely open mind. Jessica and Paul note that today’s founders are more frightened, asking what is even still true, but the message Paul gives them is that constant change favors the young and flexible. If you have only been executing a plan for two weeks, a disruption costs you nothing; you just switch.

    What adaptability looks like in a founder

    Jessica describes the founders she funds as determined, flexible-minded, and willing to adapt, and calls adaptability a key trait always, but especially in uncertain times. In interviews, the rigid applicants reveal themselves by answering the question they planned to answer rather than the one they were asked, and you can almost hear the gears grind when you redirect them. Paul does not let that slide; if they dodge, he just asks again. The positive signal is a founder who, faced with a question they have not considered, says “here is how I would think about it” and reasons live. Both point out that YC itself had to adapt, and that the company they funded the interviewer’s startup as in 2009 looked very different by the end. They funded him in May 2009, in the thick of the financial crisis, after he had quit his job in August 2008 and briefly felt he had made a terrible mistake.

    Founder mode and seeing through the fog

    Paul points to Brian Chesky as the defining example of weathering disaster, a story he explored on This Week in Startups. When COVID hit a travel company like Airbnb, the word bankruptcy was being used in board meetings, and Ken Chenault, the former American Express CEO on the board, warned it was ten times worse than 9/11. Chesky went into what would later be named founder mode, getting into every line item, understanding exactly what was needed, telling people what good looked like, and then giving them freedom to execute while still insisting on visibility. The crisis gave him permission to be the involved CEO he had always wanted to be, the kind of involvement that normal operating conditions would have labeled micromanaging. Paul argues founders see through fog that blinds everyone else for a simple, rational reason: they understand the company better than anyone because they have been there longest and thought of most of it, and they also care more than anyone. Combine deep understanding with deep caring and of course they see more.

    Cockroaches, the North Star, and the biosphere tree

    Returning to 2008, when YC was self-funded and unsure whether anyone would invest by March, they decided to keep going on the principle that it is always a good time to start a startup, but to fund people close to making money and very tough founders they called cockroaches, after the creatures that survive nuclear war. Airbnb was the ultimate cockroach. Paul frames YC’s longevity around two axioms (startups matter, founders are the most important ingredient) and around resilience built through stress. He tells the story of trees grown inside a biosphere that fell over because they were never exposed to wind, since being blown about is a necessary part of a tree becoming strong enough to support its own weight. YC has been blown around and is still standing, which is exactly what gave it practice. The companion idea is the North Star: you cannot move with fashion or act as a weather vane swinging with other people’s moral fashions, you have to hold your founding principles, which Paul eventually wrote down rather than let a 23-year-old new hire do it.

    Climate, energy, and selling into hard markets

    The interviewer’s own path (a curiosity about wildfire that grew from living in California, watching PG&E go bankrupt, a fire on his Mendocino property, volunteering as a firefighter) becomes the case for ideas that grow authentically out of a founder’s life. Climate is framed broadly as energy, the built environment, and transportation, essentially the physical world, and those are hard markets where the buyers are utilities, governments, real estate, and insurance. The advice is to find early adopters who decide quickly, which usually means not starting with a utility but with something like a single corporate campus that will say yes faster. Utilities, though, are under so much stress from wildfire liability, renewables, EV charging, and AI demand that they are increasingly willing to try new things. Gridware, founded by a former lineman who lived through major fires, is the proof point: backed by Sequoia, with PG&E as a major customer. Paul notes the second-biggest chunk of YC startups after AI is hard tech, not because software died but because building physical things is getting more possible, more like ordering and assembling components. Energy is the binding constraint on AI, fusion no longer feels thirty years away, and the bet is that energy and physical markets are where fintech was in 2008, about to be cracked open.

    Guilt versus greed as a business model

    On the question of whether climate companies should sell on guilt (recycle, pay more because it is sustainable), Paul is blunt that guilt is fragile because fashions change what you are supposed to feel guilty about. The carbon-credit companies thrived until buying carbon credits stopped being cool, then went out of business. A founder’s own concern for the world can drive great companies, but depending on a customer’s guilt is shallow. The durable move is to assume the user is selfish, greedy, and lazy, someone who just wants to eat pizza and watch Netflix, and to build something that produces good outcomes despite that. Clean power is the perfect example: nobody watching Netflix is upset that fusion powers their television, and if it is cheaper and more reliable, that is simply more Netflix and more money for pizza.

    Personal resilience, Twitter mobs, and the essay process

    On surviving public criticism, Paul’s method is pattern recognition: after twenty mobs you stop counting and know it will be over in two days when they move to the next topic, so you wait it out even though it genuinely feels miserable. Half of them are bots or people you would never talk to in real life, but the deeper point is that companies and people stay resilient by not succumbing to mobs and not becoming weather vanes for moral fashions. Conviction is built by working on an idea, not sitting in a room thinking about it, unless it is pure thought like math. His essays are the engine: he writes a version one, notices everything wrong, and fixes it sentence by sentence until there is no false statement left. He will read an entire book for a single sentence because he would be mortified to publish something false and, having no deadlines, has no excuse. That is why his standing challenge to angry readers, to point out one incorrect statement, almost never gets answered.

    Raising kids, prepping, and the things that keep them up at night

    Their parenting philosophy is to give kids confidence and a stable base, indulge curiosity, and encourage projects nobody assigned, like the living room overrun by one son’s Lego. They pick their battles: they put their foot down on cruelty but admit total defeat on food, devices, and screen time. Paul’s favorite question for anyone with an unusual experience is not “what was it like” but “how was it different than you expected,” which surfaces the genuinely novel detail, and the meta-version of that became the show’s recurring question to all guests. On prepping, they joke that living in the English countryside is itself a form of preparation, and that in turbulent times you should bet on an island full of reasonable people. The episode closes on what keeps them up at night: AI and climate change, the two things Paul treats as uniquely game over, illustrated by the prospect of the Gulf Stream reversing and leaving Europe, which sits as far north as Alaska, a frozen wasteland. Jessica notes her YC superhero name was Panic, and the conversation ends, after a detour through political polarization and a child who insisted for six months on being called SR-71 forecast 80 leaping leopard, on the admission that they manage screen time by being utterly defeated.

    Notable Quotes

    “If you’re a startup founder, a world where things are constantly changing is actually good for you. It feels bad, but you’re better off than anybody else.”

    Paul Graham, on why turbulence favors young, flexible founders

    “You can’t move with fashion. You have to stick to your North Star.”

    Paul Graham, on holding founding principles during noisy, turbulent times

    “There’s always some kind of disaster. It’s almost a rule of thumb at Y Combinator that there’s always some disaster going on, just like in a hospital. There’s always somebody who’s coding.”

    Paul Graham, on crisis as the normal operating environment for startups

    “The measure of a good startup idea is revenue, sure. Let’s not pretend companies are supposed to do something else.”

    Paul Graham, on how to judge whether an idea is actually good

    “Assume that the user is selfish and lazy, and make something. Selfish, greedy, and lazy. And make something that causes good things to happen despite that.”

    Paul Graham, on why guilt is a weak business model and greed is a source of energy

    “This is where the best startup ideas come from. They grow authentically out of the founders’ lives.”

    Jessica Livingston, on a wildfire curiosity turning into a company

    “Please point out the incorrect statement I’ve made in this essay. And no one ever does that.”

    Paul Graham, on writing essays sentence by sentence until nothing in them is false

    “AI and climate change have something in common. They’re the two big things I worry about the most, because they’re both game overs.”

    Paul Graham, on what keeps him up at night

    This is the first episode of Disaster Proof, a series exploring the people and technologies building resilience in an increasingly volatile world. You can watch the full conversation with Paul Graham and Jessica Livingston on YouTube here.

    Related Reading

  • Bill Ackman on Investment Strategy, What the Market Is Missing, and How AI Breaks Businesses

    Bill Ackman, founder and CEO of Pershing Square, joined the All-In Podcast for a conversation about how his investment approach has shifted toward permanent, long-term ownership, why he believes the highest-quality companies are being left behind by a market chasing the new new thing, and how AI is raising the risk of disruption for almost every business. He also lays out his plan to turn Howard Hughes into a Berkshire Hathaway-style compounding machine built on insurance. You can watch the full conversation here. Below is a structured breakdown of the ideas, the stories, and the frameworks he uses to underwrite a business.

    TLDW

    Ackman explains how his philosophy evolved from a smaller, more liquid activist toward concentrated, permanent ownership of durable, non-disruptible businesses, with much of his activism now playing out on X rather than in the boardroom. He tells the origin story of his first big trade, Wendy’s and the Tim Hortons spin-off, and explains why a large long-term shareholder on a board is an antidote to short-term markets. On AI, he argues that this is the greatest era in history to build a company, which means the risk of being disrupted has gone up enormously, and that the market is mispricing high-quality compounders like Microsoft, Meta, and Amazon while crowding into chips, semiconductors, and energy. He works through the SaaS question and why niche software is more at risk than platforms, how he underwrites SpaceX, xAI, OpenAI, Anthropic, and Palantir like late-stage venture bets using a people, opportunity, context, deal framework, and why founder-led companies have an edge in making radical calls. The back half covers his Howard Hughes plan to copy Buffett’s insurance-float model, the role of cost of capital and reflexivity in markets, the meme-stock era, going direct on social media, and the three different ways an investor can put money to work with Pershing Square.

    Thoughts

    The most useful idea in the interview is the way Ackman reframes disruption as the central investing problem of the AI era. His point is that the same forces making this the best time in history to start a company, meaning near-unlimited compute, capital, and talent, also raise the odds that any given incumbent gets disrupted. That reframes the word quality. It is no longer mostly about margins and moats. It becomes about non-disruptibility, which is a much higher bar than most quality investors were using a decade ago, and it is why he says most of his research time now goes into assessing that single risk.

    The what-the-market-is-missing thesis is classic contrarian Ackman. Arguing that Microsoft, Meta, and Amazon are the new old-fashioned, undervalued names while capital piles into semiconductors and energy is a direct echo of 2000, when Berkshire Hathaway bottomed precisely because money was chasing internet stocks. It is worth keeping in mind that he owns all three, so the call is also his book. The durable signal here is the framework, not the specific tickers: capital reliably chases the new new thing, and genuinely high-quality businesses get left behind during those rotations.

    The Howard Hughes plan is the most concrete bet in the conversation. Copying Buffett’s insurance-float playbook, short-term treasuries for policyholder money and equities for the surplus, onto a discounted real-estate holding company is elegant. The hard part is exactly what Ackman flags about insurance as an industry: the best investors go to hedge funds, not insurers, so most insurance companies only ever manage the liability side well. Pershing Square’s edge is that Ackman can both write the business and invest the float, which is the same reason it worked for Buffett. The framing of going from a four billion dollar company to a trillion over fifty years is a statement of intent, not a forecast, and should be read that way.

    Underneath all of it sits cost of capital and reflexivity. His observation that a higher stock price literally makes a company more valuable, because it lowers the cost of capital and creates acquisition currency, is the mechanism behind both Elon Musk’s empire and the meme-stock era he is wary of. Going direct on X is the same lever pointed at himself: communicate the vision, lower your own cost of capital, and make the bet easier for other people to place. It is a coherent worldview in which narrative and balance sheet continuously feed each other, and it explains a lot of his behavior over the last few years.

    Key Takeaways

    • The biggest change in Ackman’s approach over time is an appreciation for business quality, meaning long-term, durable, protected, non-disruptible growth as the most important factor.
    • He says he is as activist as ever, but more of it now happens on X than in the traditional corporate context.
    • His first big investment was Wendy’s, which owned Tim Hortons. The simple thesis was to buy Wendy’s, spin off Tim Hortons, and double the money.
    • Early on no one returned his calls, so he had Steve Schwarzman’s Blackstone write a fairness opinion, filed it publicly, and the company spun off Tim Hortons six weeks later. The CEO later thanked him after being fired with a large exit package.
    • Reputation compounds. Where Pershing Square once had to bang down the door, companies now sometimes tweet a welcome when it buys a stake.
    • A large long-term shareholder on a board is a counterweight to short-term markets, letting management test ideas privately and pursue initiatives that hurt the next few quarters of earnings.
    • Pershing Square owns Microsoft, Meta, and Amazon. Ackman argues you are either invested in AI directly or indirectly, or it is a threat, so you have to understand it.
    • The hardest and most important job for a concentrated investor is judging the risk of disruption, and that risk has risen dramatically.
    • This is the greatest era in history to build a business because of near-unlimited access to compute, capital, and talent, which is exactly why the probability of being disrupted has gone up enormously.
    • Markets bring their eye to the new new thing, currently chips, semiconductors, and energy, while high-quality companies get left behind.
    • He draws an analogy to 2000, when Berkshire Hathaway traded at one of its lowest valuations because everyone chased internet stocks. He sees a similar dynamic around Amazon, Meta, and Microsoft today.
    • On the SaaS question, he worries more about a Salesforce than a platform like Microsoft, because niche software charging high per-seat or per-year prices is most exposed, while low-priced platforms are safer.
    • Any software company today has to be as AI-enabled as possible, or risk losing the monopolistic pricing it once enjoyed.
    • His famous March 2020 CNBC appearance was an attempt to reach President Trump and argue for a short shutdown, paired with the view that stocks were incredibly cheap and worth buying.
    • He describes valuation as a tether on the market: when prices stretch too high they snap back, and when they get too cheap the same rubber band pulls valuations up. Calling that out publicly can trigger a psychological reset.
    • His recent bullish call came because stocks of really high-quality companies had gotten crazy cheap on fundamentals, meaning the present value of the cash they generate.
    • He underwrites high-multiple names like SpaceX as venture investments using a framework from business school: people, opportunity, context, deal.
    • On SpaceX, people and opportunity are one of one, the context is incredible, and Starlink plus near-monopoly low-cost launch make it strategically valuable. The complicated part is the deal, meaning the valuation. He invested via an SPV after Ron Baron’s nudge, and also invested in xAI.
    • He treats OpenAI, Anthropic, and Palantir as late-stage venture bets that have proven they can generate real revenue, and says OpenAI should do a better job communicating how it thinks about its enormous capital commitments.
    • Every CEO in America is asking how to use AI, how it applies to their business, and how it is a threat. It is top of mind and boards open every meeting with it.
    • He has not seen much enterprise AI success yet, citing a McKinsey study that 95 percent of enterprise initiatives fail and the rise of the forward deployed engineer as the hot role bridging promise and ROI. Pershing Square itself uses AI mainly for legal, compliance, and back-office work.
    • Founder-led companies have an advantage because founders have the authority and the economic stake to make radical calls, while the average S&P 500 CEO has a roughly three to four year tenure and is incentivized not to make mistakes.
    • He cites Mark Zuckerberg buying Instagram and WhatsApp as the kind of shocking-at-the-time calls that a founder with a track record can make.
    • Ben Graham’s enduring lesson is that a stock is an interest in a business, not a piece of paper, but Graham mostly invested in liquidations and cash-rich shells, and made most of his money on Geico.
    • Most of Buffett’s value at Berkshire came from owning insurance operations and focusing on the asset side of the balance sheet, not just the liability side.
    • Insurance is hard to copy because top investors do not go to work for insurers. Buffett owned half his company and was a great investor, which is why it worked.
    • Howard Hughes came out of the General Growth bankruptcy and owns master-planned cities like Summerlin, with 26,000 acres in the Las Vegas area, comparable to the Irvine Company that built roughly a hundred billion dollars of wealth for Donald Bren.
    • The plan is to reinvest the cash Howard Hughes generates into insurance, put policyholder float in short-term treasuries and the surplus in common stocks, and build a compounding machine over fifty years, buying it at roughly sixty cents on the dollar.
    • A company must earn a return above its cost of capital for the stock to rise. Elon Musk has kept his companies’ cost of capital extremely low, and a SpaceX IPO near a 1.75 trillion dollar valuation could be one of the lowest cost of equity capital transactions ever.
    • Markets have changed less because of Ackman and more because of figures like Ryan Cohen and GameStop, where a stock can trade well above its value on personality and an army of followers.
    • Higher valuations are reflexive: a rising stock price lowers cost of capital and creates currency to issue stock and acquire businesses, which is part of how Elon built Tesla.
    • There are three ways to invest with Pershing Square: the management company itself (a royalty on compounding assets with no capex), PSUS (a portfolio of best ideas trading at an 18 percent discount), and Howard Hughes (a bet on building the next Berkshire). A dollar invested 22 years ago became roughly 27 to 28 times net of fees.
    • Going direct on X, with 2.2 million followers, lets him communicate his vision and lower the friction for others to back his bets, even as his very long tweets have become a running meme.

    Detailed Summary

    From activist trades to permanent capital

    Ackman frames the evolution of his career as a steady move toward business quality. As a smaller, more liquid investor early on, he did not have to think as long-term. As Pershing Square became a bigger, more concentrated investor, durable growth became the dominant factor in every decision. He insists he is still as activist as ever, but a lot of that energy has shifted to X, where he can argue a position publicly rather than only inside a boardroom. The best investments, he notes, are the ones where you do not need to join the board and do anything at all.

    The Wendy’s and Tim Hortons origin story

    One of Pershing Square’s first investments was Wendy’s, which owned the Canadian coffee and donut chain Tim Hortons. The value of Tim Hortons alone was greater than the entire value of Wendy’s, so the idea was simple: buy Wendy’s, spin off Tim Hortons, and double the money. Ackman bought ten percent of the company and could not get the CEO to return a single call, so he had a contact at Blackstone, with Steve Schwarzman’s sign-off, write a fairness opinion on what Wendy’s would be worth after a spin-off, filed it publicly, and watched the spin-off happen six weeks later. The CEO eventually called back to thank him, having been fired but rewarded with a large exit package. Over the years that scrappy approach gave way to a reputation that now opens doors on its own.

    Why a long-term shareholder on the board matters

    The core problem of being a public company, in Ackman’s telling, is the short-term nature of markets and analysts, when a good business should be run in the context of years and even decades. A large, supportive shareholder on the board gives management a place to test ideas before exposing them to the public and a credible voice willing to back initiatives that hurt earnings for a few quarters. That is the value-add he believes a constructive activist can bring to a mature public company, as opposed to a startup where the best outcome is simply to own a great business and stay out of the way.

    AI and the rising risk of disruption

    For a concentrated, long-term investor, the most challenging task is judging the risk that two people from Stanford in a garage build something that destroys your thesis. Ackman argues that risk has climbed dramatically because this is the greatest era in history to build a company, with near-unlimited access to compute, capital, and talent. The paradox is that the conditions that make building easier also make incumbents more fragile, so the bulk of his research now centers on assessing how disruptible a business really is.

    What the market is missing

    Investors bring their attention to the new new thing, currently chips, semiconductors, and energy, which leaves high-quality companies behind. Ackman compares the moment to 2000, when Berkshire Hathaway traded at one of its lowest valuations ever because capital was chasing internet stocks. He sees an echo today in how Amazon, Meta, and Microsoft are treated as old-fashioned, and he considers them undervalued on fundamentals, where value is the present value of the cash a business generates over its life. His recent bullish call, like his March 2020 appearance, came because stocks of really high-quality companies had simply gotten too cheap.

    The SaaS question and AI-enabled software

    On the so-called SaaS apocalypse, Ackman says it is a company-by-company analysis. He worries more about something like Salesforce than about a low-priced platform. The companies most at risk are those that extracted near-monopolistic profits by charging a high annual price for a niche product, because AI lowers the barrier to replicating that functionality. A platform where the average customer pays a small amount per seat, like Microsoft, is far less exposed. The takeaway for any software company is to become as AI-enabled as it possibly can.

    Underwriting SpaceX, xAI, and the AI labs like venture

    For the highest-multiple private companies, Ackman uses a venture lens and a framework a business school professor taught him: people, opportunity, context, deal. SpaceX scores as one of one on people and opportunity, with an incredible context and a near-monopoly in low-cost launch through Starlink, which makes even Amazon a likely customer. The complicated variable is the deal, meaning the valuation, and he admits he has not done all the math, having invested through an SPV after Ron Baron encouraged him, along with a position in xAI. He treats OpenAI, Anthropic, and Palantir as late-stage venture bets that have proven real revenue, and argues OpenAI in particular should communicate more clearly how it justifies capital commitments that vastly exceed current revenue.

    Founder-led companies and the authority to act

    Ackman agrees that founder-led companies have a structural advantage in a fast-changing environment. The average S&P 500 CEO has a tenure of roughly three to four years, a small economic stake, and an incentive not to make a career-ending mistake. A founder is betting an entire life and reputation, has the authority of a major voting and economic position, and has usually made several hard, contrarian calls that turned out right. He points to Mark Zuckerberg’s acquisitions of Instagram and WhatsApp, which looked shocking at the time, as exactly the kind of decision a founder with a track record can make and a hired manager often cannot.

    Howard Hughes as Berkshire Hathaway 2.0

    Ackman points to a detailed financial history of Berkshire Hathaway showing that the vast majority of Buffett’s value creation came from owning insurance and focusing on the asset side of the balance sheet, not just the liability side. Insurance is hard to replicate because skilled investors join hedge funds rather than insurers, but Buffett owned half his company and was a great investor. Pershing Square is applying the same idea to Howard Hughes, a company created out of the General Growth bankruptcy that owns master-planned cities such as Summerlin, with 26,000 acres around Las Vegas, in the spirit of the Irvine Company that made Donald Bren roughly a hundred billion dollars. The plan is to reinvest the company’s cash into insurance, place policyholder float in short-term treasuries and the surplus in common stocks, avoid issuing stock the way Buffett did, and compound for fifty years, all bought at around sixty cents on the dollar.

    Cost of capital, reflexivity, and going direct

    A company only creates value when it earns above its cost of capital, which is why Howard Hughes, seen as a high-cost-of-capital real-estate business, has long traded at a discount, and why Ackman is repurposing its assets into a higher-returning model. He highlights how reflexive markets are: a higher stock price itself makes a company more valuable by lowering its cost of capital and creating currency to raise money and acquire businesses, a lever Elon Musk used to build Tesla. He attributes real market change less to himself and more to figures like Ryan Cohen and GameStop, where personality and a following can lift a stock far above its value. His own going-direct strategy on X, with 2.2 million followers and famously long posts, is the same mechanism applied to communicating a vision and lowering friction for investors. He closes by laying out three ways to invest with Pershing Square: the management company as a royalty on compounding assets, the PSUS portfolio trading at an 18 percent discount, and Howard Hughes as a bet on building the next Berkshire.

    Notable Quotes

    “The best investments are one where you don’t need to join the board and do anything.”

    Bill Ackman, on the kind of business he most wants to own

    “The probability of your being disrupted has gone up enormously.”

    Bill Ackman, on why assessing disruption risk now dominates his research

    “Valuation is like a tether on the market, right? When it gets too high, it’s like this rubber band that’s stretching and inevitably it bounces back.”

    Bill Ackman, on how prices revert at both extremes

    “People, opportunity, context, deal.”

    Bill Ackman, on the business school framework he uses to underwrite companies like SpaceX

    “Every CEO in America today is like, how do I use AI?”

    Bill Ackman, on AI as the top opportunity and threat in every boardroom

    “A closed mouth gathers no foot.”

    Bill Ackman, quoting the line a friend put next to his name in his high school yearbook

    “The increase in value of the company increases the value of the company, right? Because it lowers the cost of capital, it gives you more flexibility, gives you the ability to issue stock, raise capital, acquire other businesses.”

    Bill Ackman, on the reflexivity between stock price and corporate value

    “The company’s got like a $4 billion market cap and the goal is to build it into a trillion dollar thing over time compounding.”

    Bill Ackman, on his fifty-year plan for Howard Hughes

    Taken together, the conversation is a tour of how Ackman now thinks about quality, disruption, and compounding, and a preview of the Berkshire-style machine he wants to build out of Howard Hughes. Watch the full conversation here.

    Related Reading

  • Paul Graham in Stockholm on Why Founders Should Go to Silicon Valley and How Sweden Can Become the Silicon Valley of Europe

    Paul Graham, the Y Combinator co-founder whose essays have shaped how a generation of founders thinks about startups, took the stage in Stockholm to answer two questions at once. Should you, as an ambitious founder, go to Silicon Valley? And what should Sweden do to thrive as a startup hub? His surprising thesis is that both questions have the same answer. Watch the full talk on YouTube.

    TLDW

    Graham argues that talent in any high-intensity field concentrates in one geographic center, the way painting clustered in 1870s Paris, math in Gutting around 1900, and movies in 1950s Hollywood. For startups today, that center is Silicon Valley. Founders should go, at least for a while, because the talent pool is both bigger and better, because serendipitous meetings outperform planned ones, because investors decide faster, because moving abroad paradoxically earns more respect from investors at home, and because measuring yourself against known greats like Brian Chesky, Sam Altman, or Max Levchin clears away the fog at the summit and shows you the work required to get there. The most subtle benefit is cultural. Silicon Valley has a 60 year old pay it forward custom in which people help strangers for no reason, a habit Graham traces to a place where nobodies become billionaires faster than anywhere else. The pivot to Sweden is that the best way to help Stockholm become a startup hub is for Swedish founders to go to Silicon Valley, ideally through YC, and then come back, importing money, skills, and Valley culture. Yes, returning founders are only half as likely to become unicorns as those who stay, but selection bias and the valuation gap explain most of that, and half a unicorn is still extraordinary. The job of Silicon Valley of Europe is unclaimed. Mountain View was a backwater in 1955 too. Critical mass is invisible until it is reached.

    Key Takeaways

    • Whenever humans work intensely on something, one place in the world becomes its center. Painting in 1870 was Paris. Math in 1900 was Gutting. Movies in 1950 was Hollywood. Startups today is Silicon Valley.
    • Every ambitious person working in those eras faced the same decision founders face now. The right answer is the same one it has always been. Yes, go. You can come back, but you should at least go.
    • National borders do not change the basic logic of moving from a village to a capital city. The reasoning that says move to where your peers are does not even know the dotted line on the map is there.
    • At the great center, the talent pool expands in two dimensions at once. The people are better and there are more of them, and they cluster, producing an intoxicating concentration of ability.
    • Serendipitous meetings are mysteriously, enormously valuable. Biographies of people who do great things are full of chance encounters that change everything.
    • Graham offers three candidate explanations for why unplanned meetings beat planned ones. There are simply more of them, so outliers are statistically unplanned. Planned meetings may be too conservative because they require a stated reason in advance. Unplanned conversations let you bail in the first few sentences, so the ones that continue are pre filtered for fit.
    • For ambitious people there is nothing better than serendipitous meetings with other people working on the same hard thing. Big centers produce more of them.
    • Things move faster in big centers because better people are more confident and more decisive, and because peers compete with and egg each other on. Ideas get acted on rather than half held.
    • Investors in Silicon Valley decide dramatically faster than European investors. They are more confident and they face stiff competition, so they cannot sit on a good opportunity without losing it.
    • This produces a counterintuitive rule. The more right an investor is about a deal, the less time they can wait, because everyone else who meets the same founder is going to invest too.
    • Yuri Sagalov is the canonical example. He invested in Max Levchin instantly because he knew anyone else who met Max would invest. Speed is the rational response to a crowded, high quality market.
    • Valley investors grumble that valuations are too high and decisions too rushed, yet they outperform European investors empirically. The complaining is just noise.
    • Moving abroad earns you more respect from investors back home. Jesus said no one is a prophet in their own country, and local investors implicitly assume local startups are second rate everywhere, not just in Sweden.
    • Leaving inverts that rule and lifts you in local investors estimation. Sometimes the mere announcement that you got into Y Combinator is enough. Investors who ignored you for months suddenly trip over themselves to write checks.
    • The Dropbox story illustrates this perfectly. A big Boston VC firm spent a year offering Drew Houston encouragement and advice but no money. The moment Sequoia got interested in Silicon Valley, that same firm faxed Drew a term sheet with a blank valuation. Drew went with Sequoia anyway and in 2018 Dropbox became the first YC company to go public.
    • The biggest advantage of moving to a great center is not what it does for you but what it does to you. A big fish in a small pond cannot tell how big it actually is.
    • In a big pond you can measure yourself against known giants. Surprisingly often the news is good. You see Brian Chesky or Sam Altman or Max Levchin and realize they are not a different species. You could do what they did if you worked that hard.
    • The key word is hard. Seeing a giant up close also calibrates the cost. It is not just I could be like that. It is I could be like that if I worked as hard as that.
    • Graham offers a Mount Olympus metaphor. Moving to the mountain clears away the fog at the top. The summit is right there, quite high but no longer impossibly high. Ambitious people need a high but definite threshold.
    • The most surprising thing about Silicon Valley to outsiders is that people help you for no reason. A founder who recently moved from England said every conversation seems to end with what can I do to help you.
    • This is not politeness. English people are far more polite than Americans on average. The helpfulness is a different cultural artifact specific to the Valley.
    • Graham traces the origin to economics. Silicon Valley is the place where nobodies become billionaires faster than anywhere else, so being nice to nobodies has historically paid off. If the helping behavior was ever calculated, the calculation is gone now. The custom is 60 years old and has become reflex.
    • Ron Conway is the purest expression of the pattern. All he does is help people. He does not track whether they are portfolio companies. He does not remember most of the favors. That untracked, indiscriminate helpfulness lets him operate at a much larger scale.
    • When many people behave this way at once, the conservation law for favors breaks down. There are just more favors. The pie grows.
    • Moving to the Valley changes you. One of the strangest effects is that it makes you more helpful to other people.
    • The answer to how Sweden should thrive as a startup hub is buried inside the answer to whether founders should go. Go to Silicon Valley for a bit and then come back.
    • That move helps Sweden in three concrete ways. The average quality of Swedish startups goes up. Returning founders bring Silicon Valley money back with them. And they import Silicon Valley culture, which has spent decades evolving to be optimal for startups.
    • Silicon Valley culture is more compatible with Swedish culture than people realize. Sweden lacks the tall poppies problem (which it should drop anyway) and shares the high trust trait that makes the Valley work.
    • Historical precedent backs this. In the 1800s Sweden literally gave mathematicians fellowships conditional on leaving the country to study math abroad. Boycotting Gutting in the name of building Swedish math would have been absurd.
    • YC is the optimal way to do the go for a bit and come back move. It is a deliberately engineered super valley within the Valley, concentrating density of founders, helpfulness, and investor speed into four to six months.
    • If the Swedish government designed a program to give Swedish founders concentrated Silicon Valley exposure, they could not do better than YC, and it costs them nothing because Silicon Valley investors fund it. They do not even have to license it. They just call the API.
    • YC data shows founders who go home are only about half as likely to become unicorns as those who stay. Three reasons not to be discouraged. First, selection bias. The most confident and determined founders are the ones willing to relocate, so the data is measuring those traits as much as Valley effects.
    • Second, the metric is valuation, not company performance. Bay Area startups simply raise at higher multiples for the same business.
    • Third, even half as well is still very good. If you would have been a Valley billionaire and end up with 500 million instead, the practical difference is zero. In Swedish kroner you are still a billionaire.
    • Money is not everything anyway. Once you have kids, where they grow up becomes the dominant question. That is an argument for returning home that has nothing to do with startups.
    • The most exciting upside is that Stockholm could become the Silicon Valley of Europe. The job is unclaimed. Nobody has a confident answer to where the European tech center is.
    • Geographic size is not the constraint people think it is. Mountain View was a backwater in 1955 when Shockley Semiconductor was founded there, and it stayed the geographic center of Silicon Valley until 2012 when activity shifted to San Francisco.
    • The two ingredients required are a place founders want to live and a critical mass of them. Stockholm clearly clears the first bar. The second is impossible to measure until you hit it, at which point it tips quickly.
    • Stockholm may be closer than it looks. Critical mass is the kind of threshold that is invisible until it has already been passed.

    Detailed Summary

    Why Centers Exist and Why You Have to Go There

    Graham opens with a historical pattern. Whenever a field gets pursued intensely, one place becomes its center. Painting in 1870 was Paris. Math in 1900 was Gutting. Movies in 1950 was Hollywood. For startups now it is Silicon Valley. The question every ambitious person in those eras asked, should I go, has had the same correct answer for thousands of years. Yes. You can come back, but at minimum you should go. The logic does not change at national borders. If a villager interested in startups would obviously move to their country’s capital, the same reasoning applies when the capital sits across a dotted line on a map.

    What you get at the center is a talent pool that expands in two dimensions at once. The people are better, and there are more of them, and they cluster, producing a density of ability that Graham describes as intoxicating. Every YC batch dinner, he says, feels the way the Stockholm room felt during his talk.

    The Mystery of Serendipitous Meetings

    One specific benefit of density is serendipitous meetings, and Graham admits he does not fully understand why unplanned encounters outperform planned ones so dramatically. Biographies of accomplished people are dense with chance meetings that redirected entire lives. He offers three possible explanations. Maybe there are simply more unplanned meetings, so statistically the outliers will mostly be unplanned. Maybe planned meetings are too conservative because they require a stated reason in advance, which lops off the upside the same way deliberate startup idea hunts lop off the best ideas. Maybe unplanned conversations have built in selection. You can decide in the first few sentences whether to continue, so the surviving conversations are pre filtered for fit. Whatever the mechanism, big centers produce more of these high value encounters, and that alone is worth the move.

    Speed and the Investor Asymmetry

    Things move faster in big centers because better people are more confident and more decisive. They egg each other on. Ideas get acted on instead of half held. Graham notes that in villages around the world there are people who half had every famous idea and never moved on it, and now resent the founder who did.

    The starkest example is investor speed. Silicon Valley investors decide dramatically faster than European ones, partly because they are better and more confident and partly because competition forces it. An investor who correctly identifies a great opportunity faces a counterintuitive rule. The more right they are, the less time they can wait, because every other investor who meets that founder will reach the same conclusion. Yuri Sagalov is the canonical case. He invested in Max Levchin immediately on meeting him because he knew anyone else would do the same. Valley investors complain that valuations are too high and decisions too rushed, but they empirically outperform European investors anyway. The grumbling is noise.

    The Prophet at Home Effect

    An underrated benefit of leaving for the center is that it raises your standing at home. Graham quotes the line about no prophet in their own country and notes that investors outside Silicon Valley implicitly assume local startups are second rate. It is not a Swedish problem. It is universal. Leaving inverts the rule. Local investors automatically rate you higher because you have been somewhere they consider serious. Sometimes the mere announcement that you got into Y Combinator triggers the inversion. The Dropbox story is the cleanest illustration. A big Boston VC firm spent a year giving Drew Houston encouragement and advice but no money. The moment Sequoia took an interest in Silicon Valley, that same firm faxed Drew a term sheet with a blank valuation, willing to invest at any price. Drew went with Sequoia. Dropbox went public in 2018 as the first YC IPO.

    Big Pond, Visible Summit

    The deepest benefit of relocating is not what the center does for you but what it does to you. A big fish in a small pond cannot tell how big it actually is. A big fish in a big pond can. You can stand next to Brian Chesky or Sam Altman or, as the Stockholm audience just had, Max Levchin, and recognize that they are not a different species. You could do what they did, if you worked that hard. The catch, Graham emphasizes twice, is the if. Seeing a giant up close calibrates both the achievability of the summit and the cost of reaching it.

    He offers a Mount Olympus image. Moving to the mountain clears away the fog at the top. The summit is right there, quite high but no longer impossibly high. Ambitious people need a high but definite threshold. Visibility transforms a vague aspiration into a clear, hard, finite target.

    The Pay It Forward Culture

    The most surprising thing about Silicon Valley to outsiders is that people help you for no reason. The phrase sounds normal in the Valley and strange everywhere else, the way clean streets feel normal in Sweden but require explanation elsewhere. Graham asked a founder who recently moved from England what surprised him most. The answer was the helpfulness. Every conversation ended with what can I do to help you. The English founder noted that this was not English politeness, which is a different thing and arguably more pronounced.

    Graham traces the origin to economics. Silicon Valley is where nobodies become billionaires faster than anywhere else. Someone with a taste for being nice to nobodies, the kind of person who pets the nobody on the head rather than kicking it aside, was always going to end up with powerful friends in that environment. Whether the original behavior was calculated or not, it is reflexive now. The custom is 60 years old. Ron Conway is the purest expression. He helps everyone, does not track favors, does not remember most of them, and as a result operates at a scale that ledger keeping makes impossible. When many people behave that way at once, the conservation law for favors breaks down. The pie expands. Graham notes that moving to the Valley will change you in this same way, almost involuntarily.

    The Sweden Answer Is Inside the Founder Answer

    The pivot of the talk is that both questions have the same answer. The way Stockholm thrives as a startup hub is for Swedish founders to go to Silicon Valley and come back. That move helps Sweden in three concrete ways. The average quality of Swedish startups rises. Returning founders bring Valley money back with them. And they import Valley culture, which has been optimized over decades for startups and which is more compatible with Swedish culture than people assume. Sweden lacks the tall poppies dynamic, which it should drop anyway, and shares the high trust trait that the Valley runs on.

    The historical analogy is direct. In the late 1800s the Swedish government gave mathematicians fellowships conditional on leaving the country to study abroad. Boycotting Gutting to develop Swedish math would have been self defeating. The same logic applies to startups now.

    YC as the Optimal Vehicle

    Graham acknowledges he is talking his own book and says it anyway because he thinks it is true. The optimal way to go for a bit and come back is YC. YC is a deliberately engineered super valley inside the Valley, concentrating founder density, helpfulness, and investor speed into a four to six month container. If the Swedish government designed such a program from scratch it would look like YC, and YC costs the government nothing because Silicon Valley investors fund it. There is no licensing process. Founders just call the API.

    The Half As Many Unicorns Caveat

    The honest data point. Founders who go home after YC are only about half as likely to become unicorns as those who stay. Graham offers three reasons not to be discouraged. First, selection bias. The most confident and determined founders are also the ones willing to relocate, so the data is partly measuring those traits rather than the effect of geography. Second, the metric is valuation, not company performance. Bay Area companies simply raise at higher multiples. Third, half is still very good. A 500 million dollar company instead of a 1 billion dollar one is no real difference in practice, and in Swedish kroner you still cross the billionaire threshold.

    Money is not everything anyway. Once you have kids, where they grow up becomes the dominant decision, and that question has nothing to do with valuations.

    The Silicon Valley of Europe Is an Open Position

    Graham ends with the most ambitious frame. If Sweden transplants enough Valley culture, Stockholm could become the Silicon Valley of Europe. The job is unclaimed. There is no confident answer to where the European startup center is, the way nobody asks where the Silicon Valley of America is because the answer is obvious. Geographic size is a weaker constraint than people think. Mountain View was a backwater in 1955 when Shockley Semiconductor was founded there, and it remained the geometric center of Silicon Valley until activity shifted to San Francisco in 2012. The only real requirements are a place founders want to live and a critical mass of founders. Stockholm clearly clears the first bar. The second is impossible to measure until it is hit, and then it tips fast. Graham closes by suggesting Stockholm may already be closer than it looks.

    Thoughts

    The most useful idea in this talk is the inversion at the heart of it. Most advice about startup geography frames the choice as a tradeoff between leaving and staying, with leaving optimized for the founder and staying optimized for the country. Graham collapses the two. The country wins more when founders leave and come back than when founders stay out of loyalty. The brain drain framing assumes a fixed pool of talent that can only be in one place. The brain circulation framing, which is what Graham is actually describing, assumes that exposure compounds. A founder who has spent six months absorbing Valley density brings back something a founder who stayed home never had. The Swedish math fellowships from the 1800s are the deepest evidence here. A government that wanted strong domestic mathematicians did not try to build a wall around them. It paid them to leave.

    The serendipity argument is the part of the talk that should make planners uncomfortable, because it is essentially an admission that the highest leverage activity in a startup career cannot be scheduled. The three theories Graham offers are not mutually exclusive and the cumulative force of them is that any environment optimized for planned, calendared interaction is by definition lopping off its own upside. This has obvious implications beyond geography. Remote first cultures, calendar tetris, gated office access, and the whole apparatus that converts random encounters into booked meetings are all working against the mechanism Graham is describing. Whether that tradeoff is worth it for any given company is a separate question, but it is at minimum a tradeoff, not a free win.

    The pay it forward story is also more economically grounded than it usually gets credit for. Graham is careful to note that the helping behavior may have originated as a calculated bet on being kind to potential future billionaires, then ossified into reflex once enough generations practiced it. That is a more honest origin story than the usual quasi spiritual version. It also implies the culture can be transplanted, but only by recreating the conditions that originally produced it. You cannot just declare a pay it forward culture and have one. You need a place where nobodies actually do become billionaires often enough that helping them rationally pays off, then run that loop for 60 years. Most cities trying to engineer their way into being startup hubs skip past this part and wonder why the culture does not stick.

    Finally, the Mountain View in 1955 line is the underrated punch of the talk. People who write off their own city as too small or too peripheral to become anything usually have an idealized image of the current center as a place that was always obviously special. It was not. Shockley Semiconductor went into a strip of orchards. Whatever Stockholm or anywhere else looks like today, it looks more impressive than Mountain View did the year Silicon Valley was born.

    Watch the full Paul Graham talk from Stockholm on YouTube.

  • All-In Podcast Recap: Epstein Files, Tether’s Billions, Nvidia Accounting & Poker Psychology

    Live from The Venetian: The Besties break down the Epstein file release, the massive margins of Tether, the Michael Burry vs. Nvidia debate, and a masterclass in risk with Alan Keating.

    In this special live episode recorded during the F1 weekend in Las Vegas, the “Besties” (Chamath Palihapitiya, Jason Calacanis, David Sacks, and David Friedberg) reunite in person. The agenda is packed: political intrigue surrounding Jeffrey Epstein, the financial dominance of stablecoins, technical debates on AI chip accounting, and high-stakes poker strategy.

    TL;DR: Executive Summary

    The US government has voted nearly unanimously to release the Epstein files, leading the hosts to speculate that the lack of leaks points to intelligence agency involvement rather than political dirt on Donald Trump. Chamath details a meeting with Tether CEO Paolo Ardoino, revealing a business holding over $100 billion in US Treasuries with profit margins potentially exceeding 95%. The group then debates Michael Burry’s short position on Nvidia, with Friedberg defending the “useful life” of AI chips under GAAP accounting. Finally, poker legend Alan Keating joins to discuss “soul reading” opponents and mastering fear in high-stakes games.


    Key Takeaways

    • The Epstein Intelligence Theory: The hosts argue that if the files contained damaging information on Donald Trump, it would have been leaked during the Biden administration. The prevailing theory discussed is that Epstein may have been an intelligence asset (CIA/Mossad/Russia), explaining the long-standing secrecy.
    • Tether is a Financial Juggernaut: Tether holds approximately $135 billion in US Treasuries and operates with roughly 100 employees. Chamath estimates the business runs at 95%+ margins, effectively exporting US dollar stability to developing nations while capturing massive interest yields.
    • Nvidia vs. Michael Burry: “The Big Short” investor Michael Burry is shorting the sector, arguing tech companies are “cooking the books” by depreciating AI chips over 6 years when they become obsolete in 3. Friedberg counters that chips retain a “useful life” for inference and background tasks long after they are no longer top-of-the-line.
    • Google Gemini 3: Google has regained the lead on LLM benchmarks with Gemini 3. The conversation highlights a shift toward proprietary silicon (TPUs) and a fragmented chip market, posing a potential long-term risk to Nvidia’s dominance.
    • The “Oppenheimer” Moment: David Friedberg reveals he decided to return as CEO of Oho after watching the movie Oppenheimer, realizing he needed to be an active operator rather than a passive board member.

    Detailed Episode Breakdown

    1. The Epstein Files Release

    In a stunning bipartisan move, the House and Senate voted nearly unanimously to release the Epstein files. The Besties analyzed why this is happening now. Sacks and Chamath suggested that because Epstein was the “most investigated human on earth,” any compromising information regarding Trump would likely have been weaponized politically by now.

    The discussion pivoted to the source of Epstein’s wealth. Chamath noted Epstein managed money for billionaires and charged inexplicable fees for “tax advice”—such as a documented $168 million payment from Apollo’s Leon Black. The hosts speculated that Epstein likely functioned as a spy or asset for intelligence agencies, which would explain the protective layer surrounding the files for so long.

    2. Tether and the Stablecoin Boom

    Chamath shared insights from a dinner with Tether CEO Paolo Ardoino. Tether’s financials are staggering: approximately $135 billion in US Treasuries and billions more in Bitcoin and gold.

    The hosts discussed the utility of stablecoins in high-inflation economies, where locals use USDT to preserve purchasing power. Because Tether earns the interest on the backing treasuries (rather than passing it to the coin holder), and operates with a lean team, the company generates billions in pure profit. Sacks noted that future US regulations might eventually force stablecoin issuers to share that yield with users, but for now, it remains one of the most profitable business models in the world.

    3. Accounting Corner: Is Nvidia Overvalued?

    Michael Burry is shorting the semiconductor sector, claiming companies are inflating earnings by depreciating Nvidia chips over 6 years despite rapid technological obsolescence.

    Friedberg launched a segment dubbed “Accounting Corner” to rebut this. He explained that under GAAP standards, an asset’s useful life is determined by its ability to generate revenue, not just its technological superiority. Even if an H100 chip isn’t the fastest on the market in year 4, it can still run inference models or handle lower-priority compute tasks, justifying the longer depreciation schedule. Chamath added that tech giants monitor “output tokens” closely; if a chip wasn’t profitable, they would simply turn it off.

    4. Poker Strategy with Alan Keating

    The episode concluded with Alan Keating, a high-stakes poker player famous for his loose, aggressive style. Keating explained his philosophy, which relies less on “solvers” (GTO strategy) and more on “soul reading”—navigating the fear and psychology of the table.

    He broke down a famous hand where he beat Doug Polk with a 4-2 offsuit, explaining that he sensed fear in Polk’s betting patterns on the turn. Keating described his approach as finding “beauty in the chaos” and dragging opponents into “deep water” where they are uncomfortable and prone to errors.


    Editorial Thoughts

    This episode marked a distinct shift in the podcast’s tone regarding crypto, moving from general skepticism to a recognition of the sheer scale and utility of stablecoins like Tether. The “Accounting Corner” segment, while technical, provided critical context for investors trying to value the AI stack—suggesting the AI boom has more fundamental accounting support than bears like Burry believe. Finally, the live format from Las Vegas brought a looser, more energetic dynamic to the conversation, highlighting the chemistry that makes the show work.

  • Why Chris Sacca Says Venture Capital Lost Its Soul (and How to Get It Back)

    TL;DW
    Chris Sacca reflects on returning to investing after years away, emphasizing authenticity, risk taking, and purpose over hype. He talks about how the venture world lost its soul chasing quick exits and empty valuations, how storytelling and emotional truth matter more than polished pitches, and how solving real problems, especially around climate, is the next great frontier. It’s about rediscovering meaning in work, finding balance, and being unflinchingly real.

    Key Takeaways
    – Return to Authenticity: Sacca rejects the performative, status driven culture of tech and VC, focusing instead on honest connection, deep work, and genuine purpose.
    – Risk and Purpose: He argues true risk is emotional, being vulnerable, admitting uncertainty, and investing in what matters instead of what trends.
    – Storytelling as Leverage: Authentic stories cut through noise more than polished marketing. Realness wins.
    – Climate as an Opportunity: The fight against climate change is framed as the defining investment and moral opportunity of our era.
    – “Drifting Back to Real”: The modern world is saturated with synthetic hype; Sacca urges creators, founders, and investors to get back to tangible, meaningful outcomes.
    – Failure and Integrity: He shares lessons about hubris, misjudgment, and rediscovering integrity after immense success.
    – Capital with a Conscience: Money and impact must align; he critiques extractive capitalism and champions regenerative investment.
    – Joy and Balance: Family, presence, and nature are more rewarding than chasing the next unicorn.

    Summary
    Chris Sacca, known for early bets on Twitter, Uber, and Instagram, reflects on stepping away from venture capital, then returning with a renewed sense of purpose through his firm Lowercarbon Capital. His talk explores the tension between success and meaning, the emptiness of chasing applause, and the rediscovery of genuine human and planetary stakes.

    He begins by acknowledging how much of Silicon Valley became obsessed with valuation milestones rather than solving problems. The “growth at all costs” mindset produced distorted incentives, extractive business models, and hollow successes. Sacca critiques this not as an outsider but as someone who helped shape that culture, recognizing how easy it is to lose the plot when winning becomes the only goal.

    He reframes risk as something emotional and moral, not just financial. True risk, he says, is putting your reputation on the line for what’s right, admitting ignorance, and showing vulnerability. This contrasts with the performative certainty often rewarded in tech and investing circles.

    Storytelling, he emphasizes, is still crucial, but not the “startup pitch deck” version. The most powerful stories are honest, raw, and rooted in lived experience. He argues that authenticity is the new edge in a world flooded with synthetic polish and AI driven noise. “The truth cuts through,” he says. “You can’t fake real.”

    Sacca then focuses on climate as both an existential threat and the ultimate investment opportunity. He presents the climate crisis as a generational moment where science, capital, and creativity must converge to remake everything from energy to food to materials. Unlike speculative tech bubbles, climate work has tangible stakes, literally the survival of humanity, and real economic upside.

    He admits he once thought he could “retire and surf” forever, but purpose pulled him back. His journey back to “real” was driven by a longing to do something that matters. That meant trading prestige and comfort for messier, harder, more meaningful work.

    Throughout, he rejects cynicism and nihilism. The antidote to burnout and existential drift, he suggests, isn’t detachment, it’s deeper engagement with what matters. He encourages listeners to find joy in building, to invest in decency, and to reconnect with the planet and people around them.

    The closing message: Venture capital doesn’t have to be extractive or soulless. It can fund regeneration, truth, and hope, if it rediscovers its humanity. For Sacca, the real ROI now is measured not in dollars, but in impact and authenticity.

  • The Snapchat Rebellion: How Evan Spiegel Defied Zuckerberg, Dropped Out of Stanford, and Built a $130 Billion Empire

    TLDW:

    1. Move Fast: A tiny, flat design team ships ideas daily—99% flop, 1% win big.
    2. Listen Hard: User feedback turned “Picaboo” into Snapchat; perfection’s overrated.
    3. Culture Wins: “Kind, smart, creative” isn’t a slogan—it’s Snap’s DNA, guarded by “council” sessions.
    4. T-Shaped Leaders: Deep skills + big-picture thinking drive innovation.
    5. Stay Unique: AR, creators, and Spectacles make Snap tough to copy, even by Meta.
    6. Care Obsessively: Spiegel’s love for users and team outlasted crashes and clones.

    Bottom Line: Snapchat didn’t beat giants with cash—it out-cared them, proving grit and vision trump all.


    In 2013, Mark Zuckerberg came knocking with a $3 billion offer to buy Snapchat. Most 23-year-olds would have seen it as the ultimate payday—a golden ticket out of the grind. Evan Spiegel saw it differently. He said no, betting instead on a quirky app built with friends in a Stanford dorm room that let photos vanish after a few seconds. That gamble didn’t just defy logic—it redefined an industry. Today, Snap Inc., the parent company of Snapchat, boasts a valuation north of $130 billion, a user base of over 850 million, and a legacy as the rebel that outmaneuvered tech’s biggest giants.

    Spiegel, who became the world’s youngest billionaire at 25, isn’t your typical Silicon Valley wunderkind. He’s an introvert who grew up tinkering with computers, a product design nerd who dropped out of Stanford just shy of graduation to chase a dream. What started as a disappearing photo app morphed into a cultural juggernaut, reshaping how Gen Z communicates—prioritizing raw, fleeting moments over curated perfection. But the real story isn’t just about dog filters or streaks. It’s about a relentless vision, an obsession with users, and the audacity to carve a path where others saw dead ends.

    In a rare, expansive interview on The Diary of a CEO with Steven Bartlett on March 24, 2025, Spiegel pulled back the curtain on the formula that turned Snapchat from a college side hustle into a global empire. Equal parts candid and philosophical, he shared lessons from 13 years at the helm—through server crashes, copycat competitors, and the pressures of running a public company. Here’s how he did it, distilled into six principles that fueled Snap’s improbable rise:

    1. Move Fast, Ship Faster: The Power of Iteration
    Snapchat’s secret sauce isn’t genius ideas—it’s speed. Spiegel revealed that Snap’s design team, a lean crew of just nine, operates with a single mandate: ship fast, test relentlessly. “99% of ideas are not good,” he says matter-of-factly, “but 1% is.” That 1%—features like Stories or AR lenses—changed the game. The team’s flat structure, weekly critique sessions, and obsession with prototyping mean no idea lingers in limbo. On day one, new hires present something—anything—tearing down the fear of failure from the jump. It’s a philosophy born from Spiegel’s Stanford days, where he learned that waiting for perfection is a death sentence. “Get feedback early,” he advises. “Even if it’s on a napkin.”

    This ethos traces back to Snapchat’s origin. The app launched as “Picaboo” in 2011, a barebones tool for disappearing messages. Users didn’t care about security—they wanted fun. Within months, Spiegel and co-founder Bobby Murphy pivoted to photos, renamed it Snapchat, and watched it spread like wildfire. Speed trumped polish every time.

    2. Feedback > Perfection: Listening to Users
    Snapchat’s evolution wasn’t a straight line. “Your initial ideas can be wrong,” Spiegel admits. “Your job isn’t to be right—it’s to be successful.” Picaboo flopped because it misread what people wanted. Snapchat soared because it listened. Early users demanded captions and doodles; Spiegel delivered. When friends complained about iPhone camera lag, he scrapped the shutter animation, making Snapchat the “fastest way to share a moment.”

    This user-first mindset isn’t just instinct—it’s a system. At Snap’s first office, a cramped blue house on Venice Beach, tourists and users knocked on the door daily with feedback. Spiegel embraced it, turning casual chats into product gold. Even today, he roams the office, bypassing polished reports to hear unfiltered takes from the trenches. “Customers are never wrong,” he says, echoing a lesson from his product design roots: empathy drives innovation.

    3. Culture Is the Killer Feature: Protecting the Soul
    Spiegel’s biggest regret? Not locking in Snap’s culture sooner. In the early days, growth outpaced identity. “We didn’t embed it early,” he confesses. As Snap ballooned, hires from Amazon, Meta, and Google brought their own baggage, threatening to dilute what made Snap unique. Now, culture isn’t negotiable—it’s the backbone. Values like “kind, smart, creative” aren’t posters on the wall; they’re hiring filters, performance metrics, and leadership litmus tests.

    One tool stands out: council. Stolen from his artsy LA high school, it’s a ritual where teams sit in a circle, sharing raw thoughts—heartfelt, spontaneous, no hierarchy. In 2013, facing pressure to move Snap to the Bay Area, Spiegel held a council. The team spoke; LA won. “It was obvious,” he recalls. Today, facilitators run councils company-wide, stitching together a workforce scattered across continents. For Spiegel, culture isn’t a perk—it’s the moat that keeps Snap nimble.

    4. T-Shaped Leadership: Depth Meets Breadth
    Snap doesn’t reward one-trick ponies. Spiegel champions “T-shaped” leaders—experts in their lane who can zoom out to grasp the big picture. “You need depth and breadth,” he explains. A brilliant engineer who can’t empathize with marketing? Useless. A creative who ignores data? Out. This model mirrors his partnership with Murphy: Spiegel’s design obsession paired with Murphy’s coding wizardry birthed Snapchat’s iconic tap-for-photo, hold-for-video mechanic—a breakthrough that rewrote smartphone photography.

    Leadership isn’t static, either. Spiegel adapts his style per person—pushing some, coaxing others. “I’m not the same leader to everyone,” he says. “That’d be terrible.” The goal? Unlock each teammate’s potential, whether it’s a designer sketching AR lenses or a lawyer rewriting privacy policies in plain English.

    5. Be Hard to Copy: Ecosystems Over Features
    When Facebook cloned Stories in 2016, Spiegel didn’t flinch. “They’re tough to compete with,” he acknowledges, recalling early investor skepticism. But Snap didn’t win by outspending—it outbuilt. Features like disappearing photos were easy to mimic; ecosystems weren’t. Spectacles, launched in 2016, flopped initially but evolved into a developer-driven AR platform by 2024. A billion monthly public posts from creators and a thriving ad network followed. “Build things that are hard to copy and take time,” Spiegel advises. “That’s how you survive.”

    The Meta-Ray-Ban partnership in 2023 stung—he’d pitched Luxottica on Spectacles years earlier, only to be ghosted—but it reinforced his resolve. Snap’s independence, he argues, proves you can outlast giants by staying weird and user-obsessed.

    6. Care More Than Anyone Else: The X-Factor
    Above all, Snap’s rise hinges on one trait: care. “How much you care is the biggest predictor of success,” Spiegel insists. It’s why he and Murphy slogged through a three-day server crash in 2012, convinced users would abandon them, only to see them return. It’s why he rejected Zuckerberg’s billions, believing Snap could stand alone. It’s why, at 34, he still geeks out over design critiques and user quirks.

    That care isn’t blind passion—it’s disciplined obsession. Spiegel’s love for Snap’s community (850 million strong) and team (thousands worldwide) fuels sleepless nights and tough calls, like layoffs that left him ashamed. “I feel a huge responsibility,” he admits. But it’s also what keeps him going. “If you don’t love it,” he warns entrepreneurs, “you won’t survive.”

    The Rebellion That Rewrote the Rules
    Snapchat didn’t win by being first—Facebook, Twitter, and Instagram came before. It didn’t win with endless cash—Meta’s war chest dwarfs Snap’s. It won by out-caring, out-iterating, and outlasting everyone else. Spiegel’s story is a middle finger to conventional wisdom: you don’t need a degree, a billion-dollar runway, or a monopoly to build something massive. You need grit, a user-first lens, and the guts to say no to $3 billion when your gut screams “not yet.”

    At 34, Spiegel’s not done. Snap’s emerging from a “two-year winter” into an “early spring,” he says poetically, with green shoots in its ad platform and creator growth. Spectacles 5.0 hints at an AR future he’s chased since 2016. And while he swears he’d never start another tech company—“It’s way too hard”—his curiosity and care suggest otherwise. For now, he’s steering Snap into its next act, proving the rebellion’s just getting started.

  • Global Madness Unleashed: Tariffs, AI, and the Tech Titans Reshaping Our Future

    As the calendar turns to March 21, 2025, the world economy stands at a crossroads, buffeted by market volatility, looming trade policies, and rapid technological shifts. In the latest episode of the BG2 Pod, aired March 20, venture capitalists Bill Gurley and Brad Gerstner dissect these currents with precision, offering a window into the forces shaping global markets. From the uncertainty surrounding April 2 tariff announcements to Google’s $32 billion acquisition of Wiz, Nvidia’s bold claims at GTC, and the accelerating AI race, their discussion—spanning nearly two hours—lays bare the high stakes. Gurley, sporting a Florida Gators cap in a nod to March Madness, and Gerstner, fresh from Nvidia’s developer conference, frame a narrative of cautious optimism amid palpable risks.

    A Golden Age of Uncertainty

    Gerstner opens with a stark assessment: the global economy is traversing a “golden age of uncertainty,” a period marked by political, economic, and technological flux. Since early February, the NASDAQ has shed 10%, with some Mag 7 constituents—Apple, Amazon, and others—down 20-30%. The Federal Reserve’s latest median dot plot, released just before the podcast, underscores the gloom: GDP forecasts for 2025 have been cut from 2.1% to 1.7%, unemployment is projected to rise from 4.3% to 4.4%, and inflation is expected to edge up from 2.5% to 2.7%. Consumer confidence is fraying, evidenced by a sharp drop in TSA passenger growth and softening demand reported by Delta, United, and Frontier Airlines—a leading indicator of discretionary spending cuts.

    Yet the picture is not uniformly bleak. Gerstner cites Bank of America’s Brian Moynihan, who notes that consumer spending rose 6% year-over-year, reaching $1.5 trillion quarterly, buoyed by a shift from travel to local consumption. Conversations with hedge fund managers reveal a tactical retreat—exposures are at their lowest quartile—but a belief persists that the second half of 2025 could rebound. The Atlanta Fed’s GDP tracker has turned south, but Gerstner sees this as a release of pent-up uncertainty rather than an inevitable slide into recession. “It can become a self-fulfilling prophecy,” he cautions, pointing to CEOs pausing major decisions until the tariff landscape clarifies.

    Tariffs: Reciprocity or Ruin?

    The specter of April 2 looms large, when the Trump administration is set to unveil sectoral tariffs targeting the “terrible 15” countries—a list likely encompassing European and Asian nations with perceived trade imbalances. Gerstner aligns with the administration’s vision, articulated by Vice President JD Vance in a recent speech at an American Dynamism event. Vance argued that globalism’s twin conceits—America monopolizing high-value work while outsourcing low-value tasks, and reliance on cheap foreign labor—have hollowed out the middle class and stifled innovation. China’s ascent, from manufacturing to designing superior cars (BYD) and batteries (CATL), and now running AI inference on Huawei’s Ascend 910 chips, exemplifies this shift. Treasury Secretary Scott Bessent frames it as an “American detox,” a deliberate short-term hit for long-term industrial revival.

    Gurley demurs, championing comparative advantage. “Water runs downhill,” he asserts, questioning whether Americans will assemble $40 microwaves when China commands 35% of the global auto market with superior products. He doubts tariffs will reclaim jobs—automation might onshore production, but employment gains are illusory. A jump in tariff revenues from $65 billion to $1 trillion, he warns, could tip the economy into recession, a risk the U.S. is ill-prepared to absorb. Europe’s reaction adds complexity: *The Economist*’s Zanny Minton Beddoes reports growing frustration among EU leaders, hinting at a pivot toward China if tensions escalate. Gerstner counters that the goal is fairness, not protectionism—tariffs could rise modestly to $150 billion if reciprocal concessions materialize—though he concedes the administration’s bellicose tone risks misfiring.

    The Biden-era “diffusion rule,” restricting chip exports to 50 countries, emerges as a flashpoint. Gurley calls it “unilaterally disarming America in the race to AI,” arguing it hands Huawei a strategic edge—potentially a “Belt and Road” for AI—while hobbling U.S. firms’ access to allies like India and the UAE. Gerstner suggests conditional tariffs, delayed two years, to incentivize onshoring (e.g., TSMC’s $100 billion Arizona R&D fab) without choking the AI race. The stakes are existential: a misstep could cede technological primacy to China.

    Google’s $32 Billion Wiz Bet Signals M&A Revival

    Amid this turbulence, Google’s $32 billion all-cash acquisition of Wiz, a cloud security firm founded in 2020, signals a thaw in mergers and acquisitions. With projected 2025 revenues of $1 billion, Wiz commands a 30x forward revenue multiple—steep against Google’s 5x—adding just 2% to its $45 billion cloud business. Gerstner hails it as a bellwether: “The M&A market is back.” Gurley concurs, noting Google’s strategic pivot. Barred by EU regulators from bolstering search or AI, and trailing AWS’s developer-friendly platform and Microsoft’s enterprise heft, Google sees security as a differentiator in the fragmented cloud race.

    The deal’s scale—$32 billion in five years—underscores Silicon Valley’s capacity for rapid value creation, with Index Ventures and Sequoia Capital notching another win. Gerstner reflects on Altimeter’s misstep with Lacework, a rival that faltered on product-market fit, highlighting the razor-thin margins of venture success. Regulatory hurdles loom: while new FTC chair Matthew Ferguson pledges swift action—“go to court or get out of the way”—differing sharply from Lina Khan’s inertia, Europe’s penchant for thwarting U.S. deals could complicate closure, slated for 2026 with a $3.2 billion breakup fee at risk. Success here could unleash “animal spirits” in M&A and IPOs, with CoreWeave and Cerebras rumored next.

    Nvidia’s GTC: A $1 Trillion AI Gambit

    At Nvidia’s GTC in San Jose, CEO Jensen Huang—clad in a leather jacket evoking Steve Jobs—addressed 18,000 attendees, doubling down on AI’s explosive growth. He projects a $1 trillion annual market for AI data centers by 2028, up from $500 billion, driven by new workloads and the overhaul of x86 infrastructure with accelerated computing. Blackwell, 40x more capable than Hopper, powers robotics (a $5 billion run rate) to synthetic biology. Yet Nvidia’s stock hovers at $115, 20x next year’s earnings—below Costco’s 50x—reflecting investor skittishness over demand sustainability and competition from DeepSeek and custom ASICs.

    Huang dismisses DeepSeek R1’s “cheap intelligence” narrative, insisting compute needs are 100x what was estimated a year ago. Coding agents, set to dominate software development by year-end per Zuckerberg and Musk, fuel this surge. Gurley questions the hype—inference, not pre-training, now drives scaling, and Huang’s “chief revenue destroyer” claim (Blackwell obsoleting Hopper) risks alienating customers on six-year depreciation cycles. Gerstner sees brilliance in Nvidia’s execution—35,000 employees, a top-tier supply chain, and a four-generation roadmap—but both flag government action as the wildcard. Tariffs and export controls could bolster Huawei, though Huang shrugs off near-term impacts.

    AI’s Consumer Frontier: OpenAI’s Lead, Margin Mysteries

    In consumer AI, OpenAI’s ChatGPT reigns with 400 million weekly users, supply-constrained despite new data centers in Texas. Gerstner calls it a “winner-take-most” market—DeepSeek briefly hit #2 in app downloads but faded, Grok lingers at #65, Gemini at #55. “You need to be 10x better to dent this inertia,” he says, predicting a Q2 product blitz. Gurley agrees the lead looks unassailable, though Meta and Apple’s silence hints at brewing counterattacks.

    Gurley’s “negative gross margin AI theory” probes deeper: many AI firms, like Anthropic via AWS, face slim margins due to high acquisition and serving costs, unlike OpenAI’s direct model. With VC billions fueling negative margins—pricing for share, not profit—and compute costs plummeting, unit economics are opaque. Gerstner contrasts this with Google’s near-zero marginal costs, suggesting only direct-to-consumer AI giants can sustain the capex. OpenAI leads, but Meta, Amazon, and Elon Musk’s xAI, with deep pockets, remain wildcards.

    The Next 90 Days: Pivot or Peril?

    The next 90 days will define 2025. April 2 tariffs could spark a trade war or a fairer field; tax cuts and deregulation promise growth, but AI’s fate hinges on export policies. Gerstner’s optimistic—Nvidia at 20x earnings and M&A’s resurgence signal resilience—but Gurley warns of overreach. A trillion-dollar tariff wall or a Huawei-led AI surge could upend it all. As Gurley puts it, “We’ll turn over a lot of cards soon.” The world watches, and the outcome remains perilously uncertain.

  • Deep Dive: Meltem Demirors on Crypto’s Future, Infrastructure’s Rise, and the Evolution of Finance

    Meltem Demirors is not merely a commentator in the cryptocurrency and digital asset space; she’s a builder, an investor, and a visionary. Her insights into the convergence of technology, finance, and infrastructure offer a compelling perspective on the future of our digital world. This article delves into her career, investment philosophy, and key observations, providing a detailed exploration of her impact on the evolving financial landscape.

    A Career Forged in the Digital Frontier:

    Demirors’ journey into the world of digital assets began with a pragmatic understanding of Bitcoin’s potential for facilitating global transactions. This early exposure sparked a deep interest in the underlying technology and its transformative power. Her time at Digital Currency Group (DCG) provided invaluable experience, allowing her to witness the nascent stages of the crypto industry’s growth. This foundation has shaped her current perspective, which emphasizes the importance of building robust infrastructure to support the digital economy.

    Infrastructure as the Cornerstone:

    A defining characteristic of Demirors’ investment philosophy is her focus on infrastructure. She believes that the true value of the digital asset space lies in the foundational layers that enable its operation. This includes:

    • Compute: The increasing demand for processing power to support blockchain networks, artificial intelligence, and other data-intensive applications.
    • Energy: The critical role of sustainable and efficient energy sources in powering the digital asset ecosystem, particularly in the context of mining and data centers.
    • Semiconductors: The essential hardware components that form the backbone of digital infrastructure.

    Demirors emphasizes the interconnectedness of these elements, highlighting the need for a holistic approach to infrastructure development. She recognizes that the convergence of physical and digital infrastructure is essential for the seamless integration of emerging technologies into our daily lives.

    Market Dynamics and Evolving Trends:

    Demirors possesses a keen understanding of market dynamics, recognizing the interplay of technology, psychology, and finance. She observes:

    • The Influence of Institutional Investors: The growing presence of institutional investors and the introduction of cryptocurrency ETFs are transforming the market, leading to increased liquidity and maturity.
    • The Power of Narratives: Market movements are often driven by narratives and psychological factors, with social media playing a significant role in amplifying volatility.
    • The Impact of Artificial Intelligence: Demirors sees significant potential for AI to accelerate cryptocurrency adoption, simplifying user experiences and expanding access to digital assets.

    The Importance of Self-Sovereignty:

    A core principle that Demirors champions is the importance of self-sovereignty. She advocates for self-custody of digital assets, emphasizing the use of hardware wallets and other security measures to protect against vulnerabilities. This commitment to individual control underscores her belief in the empowering potential of decentralized technologies.

    Crypto Culture and its Significance:

    Demirors acknowledges the unique culture of the cryptocurrency community, including its use of memes, humor, and digital art. She views these cultural expressions as a reflection of the innovative and disruptive nature of the space. Her willingness to engage with these aspects of crypto culture demonstrates her understanding of the community’s importance.

    Crucible Capital: A New Chapter:

    With the founding of Crucible Capital, Demirors is putting her investment philosophy into action. The firm’s focus on infrastructure reflects her belief in the long-term value of building the foundations of the digital economy.

    Wrap Up:

    Meltem Demirors is a vital voice in the digital asset space, offering a unique blend of technical expertise, market insight, and visionary thinking. Her focus on infrastructure, commitment to self-sovereignty, and understanding of crypto culture make her a key figure in shaping the future of finance.

  • The AI Revolution Unveiled: Jonathan Ross on Groq, NVIDIA, and the Future of Inference


    TL;DR

    Jonathan Ross, Groq’s CEO, predicts inference will eclipse training in AI’s future, with Groq’s Language Processing Units (LPUs) outpacing NVIDIA’s GPUs in cost and efficiency. He envisions synthetic data breaking scaling limits, a $1.5 billion Saudi revenue deal fueling Groq’s growth, and AI unlocking human potential through prompt engineering, though he warns of an overabundance trap.

    Detailed Summary

    In a captivating 20VC episode with Harry Stebbings, Jonathan Ross, the mastermind behind Groq and Google’s original Tensor Processing Unit (TPU), outlines a transformative vision for AI. Ross asserts that inference—deploying AI models in real-world scenarios—will soon overshadow training, challenging NVIDIA’s GPU stronghold. Groq’s LPUs, engineered for affordable, high-volume inference, deliver over five times the cost efficiency and three times the energy savings of NVIDIA’s training-focused GPUs by avoiding external memory like HBM. He champions synthetic data from advanced models as a breakthrough, dismantling scaling law barriers and redirecting focus to compute, data, and algorithmic bottlenecks.

    Groq’s explosive growth—from 640 chips in early 2024 to over 40,000 by year-end, aiming for 2 million in 2025—is propelled by a $1.5 billion Saudi revenue deal, not a funding round. Partners like Aramco fund the capital expenditure, sharing profits after a set return, liberating Groq from financial limits. Ross targets NVIDIA’s 40% inference revenue as a weak spot, cautions against a data center investment bubble driven by hyperscaler exaggeration, and foresees AI value concentrating among giants via a power law—yet Groq plans to join them by addressing unmet demands. Reflecting on Groq’s near-failure, salvaged by “Grok Bonds,” he dreams of AI enhancing human agency, potentially empowering 1.4 billion Africans through prompt engineering, while urging vigilance against settling for “good enough” in an abundant future.

    The Big Questions Raised—and Answered

    Ross’s insights provoke profound metaphorical questions about AI’s trajectory and humanity’s role. Here’s what the discussion implicitly asks, paired with his responses:

    • What happens when creation becomes so easy it redefines who gets to create?
      • Answer: Ross champions prompt engineering as a revolutionary force, turning speech into a tool that could unleash 1.4 billion African entrepreneurs. By making creation as simple as talking, AI could shift power from tech gatekeepers to the masses, sparking a global wave of innovation.
    • Can an underdog outrun a titan in a scale-driven game?
      • Answer: Groq can outpace NVIDIA, Ross asserts, by targeting inference—a massive, underserved market—rather than battling over training. With no HBM bottlenecks and a scalable Saudi-backed model, Groq’s agility could topple NVIDIA’s inference share, proving size isn’t everything.
    • What’s the human cost when machines replace our effort?
      • Answer: Ross likens LPUs to tireless employees, predicting a shift from labor to compute-driven economics. Yet, he warns of “financial diabetes”—a loss of drive in an AI-abundant world—urging us to preserve agency lest we become passive consumers of convenience.
    • Is the AI gold rush a promise or a pipe dream?
      • Answer: It’s both. Ross foresees billions wasted on overhyped data centers and “AI t-shirts,” but insists the total value created will outstrip losses. The winners, like Groq, will solve real problems, not chase fleeting trends.
    • How do we keep innovation’s spirit alive amid efficiency’s rise?
      • Answer: By prioritizing human agency and delegation—Ross’s “anti-founder mode”—over micromanagement, he says. Groq’s 25 million token-per-second coin aligns teams to innovate, not just optimize, ensuring efficiency amplifies creativity.
    • What’s the price of chasing a future that might not materialize?
      • Answer: Seven years of struggle taught Ross the emotional and financial toll is steep—Groq nearly died—but strategic bets (like inference) pay off when the wave hits. Resilience turns risk into reward.
    • Will AI’s pursuit drown us in wasted ambition?
      • Answer: Partially, yes—Ross cites VC’s “Keynesian Beauty Contest,” where cash floods copycats. But hyperscalers and problem-solvers like Groq will rise above the noise, turning ambition into tangible progress.
    • Can abundance liberate us without trapping us in ease?
      • Answer: Ross fears AI could erode striving, drawing from his boom-bust childhood. Prompt engineering offers liberation—empowering billions—but only if outliers reject “good enough” and push for excellence.

    Jonathan Ross’s vision is a clarion call: AI’s future isn’t just about faster chips or bigger models—it’s about who wields the tools and how they shape us. Groq’s battle with NVIDIA isn’t merely corporate; it’s a referendum on whether innovation can stay human-centric in an age of machine abundance. As Ross puts it, “Your job is to get positioned for the wave”—and he’s riding it, challenging us to paddle alongside or risk being left ashore.