> O ano é 2006
> Você chega da escola
> Vai direto pro computador
> Abre o uTorrent
> Percebe que ainda faltam alguns minutos
> Sua internet de 200kb não é lá essas coisas
> Ok, você tem tempo de almoçar
> Meia hora depois retorna
> Legal, a ISO terminou de baixar!
> Deixa o seed ligado por um tempo
> Outra pessoa quer baixar também
> Abre o Nero (quem lembra?)
> Burning…
> Grava a ISO!
> Abre o Daemon Tools (os de verdade sabem)
> Monta a imagem
> Instala o jogo!
> Inicia… ainda está pedindo um CD
> De volta pra internet
> Procure um crack No-Cd
> Baixe o crack
> AVAST grita: uma ameaça foi detectada!
> De volta pra internet
> Encontre um keygen russo misterioso
> Você vê dois botões, mas não fala russo
> Escolha com sabedoria
> Apareceu um código na tela!
> Copia, cola, copia, cola, copia, cola…
> Inicia o jogo de novo
> Tá rodando, bora caralho
> EA GAMES, challenge everything! 🫦
> Tun de run dun, de run de run dun oooh 🔈
> Through the window, to the wall (the wall)🔉
Eu vivi isso, tempos bons que não voltam mais 🥹
My net worth peaked at $1.2 million.
None of it was real.
I don't mean that philosophically. I mean it was located on servers that have since been turned off.
I own eleven properties in the metaverse. Three in Decentraland. Four in The Sandbox. Two in Voxels. One in Otherside. And a beachfront villa in Horizon Worlds that I bought for $214,000 because Mark Zuckerberg called it "the next frontier."
The frontier closed last week.
It's a mobile app now.
Last year I mass DM'd 340 people the phrase "you don't understand how early we are." I have since stopped doing that. Not because I was wrong. Because most of them blocked me.
I got into metaverse real estate in November 2021. Everyone was buying. Someone paid $450,000 to be Snoop Dogg's neighbor. In a video game. With no legs.
The avatars didn't have legs.
I thought that was bullish. "The legs are coming," I told my Discord. "Legs are a roadmap item." Three hundred people reacted with rocket emojis.
I called myself a "digital land baron."
I put it in my Twitter bio.
I put it in my LinkedIn headline.
I said it on a podcast that had eleven listeners. Three of them were bots. The rest were my alts.
My virtual property has more square footage than my actual apartment.
My actual apartment has furniture.
Location, location, location.
My most valuable asset was a plot next to a virtual Gucci store. Gucci left in 2023. The store is still there. Nobody's in it. It's like a mall in Ohio but with worse graphics and no food court.
I held.
Diamond hands.
That's what we said. "Diamond hands." It means refusing to sell while your investment loses 94% of its value. We turned financial paralysis into a personality trait.
A guy in my Discord paid $2.4 million for a 618-parcel estate in Decentraland. Prime district. High foot traffic. I asked him what "foot traffic" meant when the platform had 38 daily active users.
He said I didn't understand the technology.
I didn't.
I still bought more.
We had a DAO. A decentralized autonomous organization. That means we voted on decisions. There were nine of us. Three never showed up. Two voted on everything without reading it. The other four were me and my alts.
We voted to "acquire strategic parcels."
The vote passed unanimously.
I voted four times.
My portfolio peaked at $1.2 million. I told everyone. I made a spreadsheet. I projected 40x returns by 2025. I made a pitch deck. The pitch deck had a slide that said "WE ARE BUILDING THE DIGITAL ECONOMY."
The slide had a rocket emoji.
That was my entire financial model.
In 2023 I bought a Bored Ape for $189,000.
It's worth $14,000 now.
I don't talk about the Ape.
I still use it as my profile picture. People ask me about it. I say "I'm long-term bullish." Long-term bullish means I can't sell it without crying in a Panera.
My mom asked me what a Bored Ape was.
I said "digital art on the blockchain."
She asked why it cost more than her car.
I said "you don't understand Web3."
She said "I understand you live in a studio apartment."
She's not in my Discord.
Justin Bieber bought one for $1.3 million.
It's worth about $90,000 now.
I felt better about mine after I heard that.
That's community.
WAGMI. We're All Gonna Make It. We said that every day. In the group chat. While the floor dropped. While the volume dried up. While 95% of all NFT collections went to zero.
We're all gonna make it.
None of us made it.
But we said it with conviction and a laser-eye profile picture. That counts for something.
It doesn't.
But we said it did. That's decentralized consensus.
Meta spent $84 billion on the metaverse.
I need to say that again.
$84 billion.
More than the GDP of Luxembourg. More than the GDP of Iceland, Luxembourg, and Malta combined. They spent it on a platform where the avatars had no legs, the graphics looked like a 2006 Wii game, and the peak user count was lower than the lunch rush at a Chipotle in Des Moines.
They just pulled Horizon Worlds from VR headsets.
It lives on as a mobile app.
My beachfront villa is now a mobile app.
Location, location, location.
Zuckerberg renamed the entire company for this. Facebook became Meta. A $900 billion company changed its legal name because the CEO watched Ready Player One and said "I want that."
Reality Labs lost $10 billion in 2021. $14 billion in 2022. $16 billion in 2023. $18 billion in 2024. $19 billion in 2025.
That's not a strategy. That's a speedrun.
They laid off 1,500 Reality Labs employees this year. Shut down three VR studios. Killed Supernatural. Put the entire VR social vision in a casket and said "we're pivoting to AI and wearables."
The pivot took four years and $84 billion.
I pivoted too.
I'm an AI real estate investor now.
I bought a virtual plot in an AI-generated world that doesn't exist yet. The founder said it was "the intersection of spatial computing and large language models."
I don't know what that means.
I gave him $40,000.
He has a whitepaper. It's 47 pages. I read the title and the tokenomics section. The tokenomics section is a pie chart. I love pie charts. They make everything look like a plan.
The project has a roadmap. Q1: "Build community." Q2: "Launch beta." Q3: "Scale ecosystem." Q4 is blank.
Q4 is always blank.
That's where the exit scam goes.
My accountant asked me to value my metaverse portfolio for tax purposes.
I said $1.2 million.
He said "current market value."
I said $6,400.
He stared at me for eleven seconds.
I know because I counted.
He asked if I had any other investments.
I showed him my NFTs.
He stared for longer.
I told him they were "cultural artifacts with long-term provenance."
He asked if I'd considered a 401k.
I told him a 401k was "legacy finance."
He told me to leave his office.
The metaverse is dead.
I don't accept that.
I am a digital land baron. I own eleven properties across four platforms. I have a beachfront villa in a mobile app, a plot next to an empty Gucci store, and a cartoon monkey that cost me more than my actual car.
Location, location, location.
The location is nowhere.
But I'm early.
I'm always early.
That's the same as being wrong except you get to say it with confidence.
Let me explain what just happened, because I don’t think people realize how INSANE this is.
> Cortical Labs put 200,000 real human brain cells onto a silicon chip and trained them to play Doom in just one week.
> Each CL1 system costs $35,000.
> A rack of 30 units consumes only 850–1,000 watts combined.
> The human brain operates on 20 watts.
> Large AI training clusters burn through megawatts.
>Backed by In-Q-Tel.
115 units began shipping in 2025.
> Cortical Labs is selling “Wetware as a Service” through Cortical Cloud, letting developers deploy code remotely to living human neurons with no lab required,
> priced like a software subscription but powered by real brain cells grown from adult skin and blood samples.
> it isn’t about gaming, it’s about biological computing that could eventually outperform traditional silicon in energy efficiency and adaptability.
This is getting really scary and we’re still at the very beginning.
“My employers will f**king fry me if I speak out about this.”
“I am capable of building and designing an aircraft that can go 210 times the speed of light.”
Jay Anderson just told Joe Rogan that a Lockheed Skunk Works engineer admitted to reverse-engineering UFOs.
Three large flying saucers called “alien reproduction vehicles” were allegedly revealed at a private air show in 1988.
But the terrifying part is this:
They were classified as “instantaneous nuclear payload delivery systems.”
Anderson: “Mark McCandlish, military illustrator, had a friend called Brad Sorensen.”
“Brad Sorensen was a government guy, aerospace engineer, Lockheed Martin—quite an extensive portfolio.”
“Brad Sorensen goes to his buddy one day, Mark McCandlish, and he says, I was shown something and I want you to … create the illustration.”
“Brad Sorensen says that … he was invited to a private air show at Lockheed Martin by … a good friend of his in the military.”
“They bring him into a hanger in Lockheed Martin where three large saucers of varying size were hovering a few feet off of the ground.”
“They were described as ‘instantaneous nuclear payload delivery systems.’”
“Brad Sorensen has never gone public.”
“But I was in the room when he was phoned [a couple of years ago], and I’ve heard him say things that have never been on the record before.”
“My friend introduces himself to him and … asked him about Mark McCandlish and this alien reproduction vehicle.”
“And Brad Sorensen went off on quite a diatribe actually … and said: I gave this man the keys to the kingdom and he went out and told the whole f**king world, and I will never do that because my employers will fry me.”
“He said: they will f**king fry me if I speak out about this, but I am capable of building and designing an aircraft that can go 210 times the speed of light.”
@TheProjectUnity@joerogan
Satya just told you the entire AI trade thesis is wrong and nobody is repricing anything.
Microsoft has racks of H100s collecting dust because they literally cannot plug them in. Not "won't," cannot. The power infrastructure does not exist. Which means every analyst model that's been pricing these companies on chip purchases and GPU count is fundamentally broken. You're valuing the wrong constraint. The bottleneck already moved and the market is still trading like it's 2023.
This rewrites the entire capex equation. When $MSFT buys $50B of Nvidia GPUs, the Street celebrates it as "AI investment" and bids up both stocks. But if half those chips sit unpowered for 18 months, the ROI timeline collapses. Every quarter a GPU sits in a dark rack is a quarter it's not generating revenue while simultaneously depreciating in performance relative to whatever Nvidia ships next. You're paying data center construction costs and chip depreciation with zero offset.
The players who actually win this are whoever locked in power purchase agreements 3-4 years ago when nobody was thinking about hundreds of megawatts for inference clusters. The hyperscalers who moved early on utility partnerships or built their own generation capacity have structural leverage that cannot be replicated on any reasonable timeframe. You can order 100,000 GPUs and get delivery in 6 months. You cannot order 500 megawatts and get it online in 6 months. That takes years of permitting, construction, grid connection, and regulatory approval.
Satya's point about not wanting to overbuy one GPU generation is the second critical insight everyone is missing. Nvidia's release cycle compressed from 2+ years to basically annual. Which means a GPU purchased today has maybe 12-18 months of performance leadership before it's outdated.
If you can't deploy it immediately, you're buying an asset that's already depreciating against future products before it earns anything. The gap between purchase and deployment is now expensive in a way it wasn't when Moore's Law was slower.
The refresh cycle compression also means whoever can deploy fastest captures disproportionate value. If you can energize new capacity in 6 months vs 24 months, you get 18 extra months of premium inference pricing before competitors catch up. Speed to deployment is now a direct multiplier on chip purchase ROI, which means the vertically integrated players with their own power and real estate can move faster than anyone relying on third party data centers or utility hookups.
What makes this really interesting is it changes the competitive moat structure completely. The old moat was model quality and algorithm improvements. The new moat is physical infrastructure and energy access. You can train a better model in 6 months. You cannot build a powered data center in 6 months. This is the kind of constraint that persists for years and creates durable separation between winners and losers.
Everyone ‘knows’ AGI will either make us all unemployed or fabulously wealthy. Except, a rather brilliant (and chilling) paper from a Yale economist suggests it's neither.
It says the economy will boom, and our wages... won't. A bit awkward.
I've been digging into this 2025 paper, "We Won't Be Missed," and it's fascinating. The premise: AGI arrives and can do all economically valuable work. And the 'compute' to run it gets cheaper and more abundant over time.
So, what happens to us fleshy, rather expensive humans?
The whole argument hinges on a masterstroke of a distinction. The paper splits all work into two types:
1️⃣ Bottleneck Work: The truly essential stuff. Producing energy, logistics, scientific discovery. The economy literally cannot grow unless this work gets done.
2️⃣ Accessory Work: The 'nice-to-haves'. Arts, fine dining, hospitality... maybe even writing witty Twitter threads. (Gulp).
Now, you might think AGI will just take the grunt work, leaving the important strategic stuff to us.
Wrong.
To achieve maximum growth, the economy must automate all the bottlenecks. It can't be held back by us. So AGI systematically takes over everything that is mission-critical.
So... are we all fired and sent home?
Surprisingly, no. The model shows people still work. We either help out with the 'bottleneck' tasks or get shuffled off to 'accessory' jobs that aren't worth the electricity to automate.
But that's not the interesting part.
Here's where it gets properly weird. Your future salary isn't based on your skill, your years of experience, or how 'important' your job feels.
It's capped by one thing: the cost of the computational resources needed to do your job instead of you.
Imagine that. As compute gets exponentially cheaper, the value of replicating your work plummets. The economy is soaring, productivity is off the charts... but your wage is pegged to a falling technological cost.
You're not obsolete, you're just... replicable. And replicable is cheap.
This leads to the paper's most brutal conclusion: The share of national income that goes to labour (i.e., salaries) collapses towards ZERO.
All the wealth, all the gains from this incredible boom, flow to the owners of the compute.
Splendid.
Here's what this means for you. Next time you see a headline about a new AI model smashing a benchmark, don't just ask "Will that take my job?"
Ask: "How much would it cost to run that model 24/7?"
Because that figure might just be your future salary cap.
Now, the paper isn't all doom. It notes that society as a whole gets richer, and we could still find meaning in 'accessory' work.
But the central economic role of human labour as the engine of growth? Gone. We become passengers, not pilots.
The paper's title is "We Won't Be Missed." Not because we're replaced, but because the economy will chug along just fine, growing faster than ever, whether we show up for work or not.
Completely changes how I think about the 'future of work'. Makes you wonder what we should really be planning for, doesn't it?