Inherent Price Part IV: The Platform Play

I finally found my co-GP in the sub-basement of the building that Preposterous Ventures was supposedly working out of. It used to be a Western Union office, then a Twitter satellite, then briefly a Spirit Halloween.

"Let me guess: your Airtable just became self-aware and it wants carry," she said to her phone, recording a TikTok. "I’m a VC and this is how I handle my SaaS when it gets sassy–oh hey!"

She put the phone down.

“Did you see my email?”

“No,” I lied.

"Monkey wearing hat."

"Funny."

"Yeah."

She showed me another one. Dog with eyebrows drawn on.

We both laughed.

"Should we invest in whoever makes these?"

"Already did. Ten million."

"Why?"

"Dumb pix r funny."

"That's it?"

"That's it."

Later that evening

[SLACK - #overthinking-thunderdome]

You: i've identified 47 variables that determine memetic value

MH: the monkey doesn't care about your variables

You: that's variable #48

MH: please stop

You: i've also created a Monte Carlo simulation of the monkey

MH: why

You: to understand the hat placement optimization

MH: [sends picture of person drowning in spreadsheets]

You: wait is that a new investment opportunity or are you making fun of me

MH: yes

[The Slack notification sound played the opening notes of "Crazy" by Gnarls Barkley, a choice no one remembered making]

Next morning. Conference Room Theranos (we'd bought the naming rights at auction). Alone.

Through the window, I could see the remnants of a billboard for MeUndies, which was papered over by an ad for Athletic Greens while peeling off to reveal an ad for Toms. Each layer thought it was disrupting the previous layer.

I laughed to myself. There's this corner in Los Angeles where Melrose meets Melrose—how does a street meet itself? Nobody knows. But there's an Away, an Indochino, a Casper, a Bonobos, a Warby Parker, and an Allbirds. Six D2C companies that cut out the middleman, all paying rent to the same landlord, in a row, creating a mall.

A mall without a roof.

Sears with exposed brick.

Disruption disrupting itself back into what it disrupted.

On the wall, my co-GP had taped the Spiderman-pointing-at-Spiderman meme. One Spiderman was labeled "D2C," the other "Department Store." A third Spiderman had appeared overnight, labeled "The Mall We Made Along The Way."

I added a fourth Spiderman with a Sharpie: "This Meme."

Then I noticed the fourth Spiderman was already pointing at me.

[SLACK - #meme-series-a]

You: rip the wire

MH: knew you’d come around sport

[DOCUSIGN ENVELOPE - STUCK IN SENDING]

Document: SAFE Note for Conceptual Investment in Theoretical Returns Status: Waiting for signature from Reality ([email protected]) Signers:

Note from DocuSign: This document appears to reference itself. Continue anyway?

My AirPods died, which meant I had to experience reality without a podcast explaining why reality was a bubble. The hotel lobby was the kind that used exposed brick to hide that there was nothing behind the brick. Someone had graffitied "THIS IS NOT A METAPHOR" on the metaphor.

I was waiting for my 4:47 PM meeting when capital decided to allocate itself in front of me:

A founder was pitching in the seating area two over to Kenny, a Greylock partner I knew in the way you know someone from his substack "Layups For Startups." The founder was wearing a 2001 Olajuwon Raptors jersey, which was either a power move or a cry for help.

"It's ClassPass but for auto parts," the founder said.

"Interesting," Kenny said, reading the business card. "N. Ron Hubbard?"

"Not. Not Ron Hubbard."

"Your first name is Not?"

"My parents were very clear about what I wasn't."

"So you're Not Ron Hubbard."

"Correct. Which proves I'm not him. He's dead."

"But you go by N. Ron? Not to be an asshole, but can I… ask why?”

"Not Hubbard sounds like I'm hiding something. This is much cleaner. Anyway–”

One of the junior investors from Greylock suddenly stood up, knocking over his wine. "WAIT. WAIT WAIT WAIT." His eyes were wild. "2001. Raptors. FASTOW'S RAPTORS. You're wearing—Hakeem played in Houston—Enron was in Houston—that jersey is from 2001 when—IT'S ALL RIGHT THERE. THE SHELL COMPANY OF HIS FORMER SELF. DON'T YOU SEE IT?"

Everyone stared at him.

"See what?" N. Ron asked genuinely.

"THE JERSEY. YOUR NAME. IT'S FRAUD. IT’S SECURITIES FRAUD. IT’S THE ENTIRE FRAUD. YOU'RE CONFESSING."

"Huh? Didn’t I just explain…" N. Ron said.

"EXPLAIN????" The associate was drawing connections on his napkin. "ENRON. THE RAPTORS CAME IN 4TH THAT SEASON. 47 WINS THAT SEASON. IT’S 4:47PM. EVERYTHING CONNECTS."

"Actually they finished third," N. Ron said mildly, not looking up from his Apple Watch.

The associate froze. His eye twitched. "You... you know their exact standing?"

“Also, it was 42 wins.”

“WAIT… THAT’S THE ANSWER TO… HOLD ON… BUT HAKEEM AVERAGED SEVEN POINT ONE POINTS!"

"Yes."

"SEVEN! ENRON FILED CHAPTER SEVEN!"

"Chapter Eleven," N. Ron corrected.

The other associate pulled him back down. "He's having a moment."

N. Ron shrugged and went back to his pitch. "So anyway…”

"I'll take the Series A," the Kenny said.

The LPs arrived in order of decreasing liquidity. The pension funds ordered well-done steaks. The family offices ordered wine from specific years that had appreciated. The sovereign wealth fund was discussing grabbing a to-go meal in 75 years.

"Explain your edge," said the representative from CalSTRS, a man who looked like he'd been 3D-printed from previous CalSTRS representatives.

"We invest in the moment before understanding," MH said, cutting into her burger with surgical precision. "The pause between seeing and getting it."

"That pause is worth exactly $47 million," I added.

"Why 47?"

"It's the most random number."

Behind us, two associates from Founders Fund were explaining to each other why explanation was dead, using increasingly complex explanations. One had drawn a Venn diagram on his napkin. The napkin was trying to crawl toward the exit.

The Spirit Halloween Discovery

11:47 PM. Back at the office. The building's previous tenant had left something behind.

"Why is there a Spirit Halloween earnings report in here?" my co-GP asked.

I looked. Glossy. Professional. Q3 2023.

"Spirit Halloween doesn't have earnings reports," I said. "They're owned by Spencer's."

"Read page 47."

Page 47 was our portfolio. Our actual portfolio. Every company. Every valuation. But rebranded as seasonal pop-ups. The monkey picture company was listed as "Temporary Joy Solutions." N. Ron's startup was "Costume Automotive."

"This is from the future," I said.

"Or the past pretending to be the future."

"Who made this?"

My co-GP pulled up the building's lease history. Spirit Halloween had the lease for exactly 47 days. But the dates were wrong. They were here during our first fundraise, not October.

"Should we be concerned?" I asked.

She showed me another monkey picture. This one was wearing a Spirit Halloween vest.

"When did you get that?"

"Just now. But also two months ago. The timestamp keeps changing."

The earnings report was gone. In its place was a single receipt for a Hakeem Olajuwon Raptors jersey. Purchased October 31, 2001.

"That's impossible. Spirit Halloween didn't—"

"Exist then? Neither did our fund. Neither did N. Ron's company."

The radiator clanked on. It sounded exactly like the Law & Order sound.

Dun Dun.

The Performance Review — 4.5 stars

2:47 AM. I was heading to my car in the parking garage beneath Original Joe's when I saw them: N. Ron and the Greylock associate, standing by their cars, neither leaving.

"Interesting thesis in there," N. Ron said carefully.

"What thesis?" the associate asked.

"The whole Enron thing. The connections."

"Those were real connections."

They stared at each other. I ducked behind a pillar.

"You can drop it," N. Ron said. "I know you're platform team."

"What? You're the one in a 2001 Raptors jersey."

"This is my actual outfit."

"Nobody actually wears that to pitch VCs."

"I do."

Long pause. I checked Slack.

[SLACK - #platform-performance] 

MH: are they still going?

You: they don't know

MH: that the other is performing?

You: they don't know IF the other is performing

MH: the emperor’s new grift

"Are you Method?" N. Ron asked.

"What?"

"Method acting."

"Are YOU method?"

"This is just me."

"Nobody is named Not Ron Hubbard."

"I am."

They stood there, each waiting for the other to break. The garage had that strange 3 AM quality where everything feels like it could be a simulation.

"If you're real," the associate said slowly, "then I've discovered actual fraud."

"If you're real," N. Ron replied, "then I'm actually committing it."

"But you're not."

"But you are."

Kenny appeared from the stairwell. "You're both performing. You know, I’m something of a performer myself."

They stared at him.

[SLACK - #platform-performance] 

You: i think I just saw two memes collide

MH: no you didn’t, you’re just flexing that youre still online at 3am

"Just kidding," Kenny said. "Or am I?" He got in his Tesla and left.

The two stood in silence.

I gotta get out of here.

[EPILOGUE]

Q1 2026. I found the source of the monkey pictures.

It was just some kid in Palo Alto with MS Paint. Not N. Ron. Not a company. Just a 19-year-old who thought monkeys in hats were funny.

"How long have you been running this business?" I asked.

"What business?"

"The monkey pictures."

"Those aren't a business."

"We invested $10 million in them."

"Why?"

"Dumb pix r funny."

He showed me his latest creation: a frog looking disappointed about cryptocurrency.

"That's worth at least 47 million," I said.

"Dollars?"

"Units of something."

MH texted me: Our platform team just discovered that discovery itself is a performance. The associate who found N. Ron's "fraud" has been promoted to Chief Reality Officer.

N. Ron's ClassPass for auto parts had IPO'd. Ticker: ARTS. Nobody noticed the typo. The stock was up 4,700% because someone mistook it for generative AI.

The kid sent me another picture. The monkey was now wearing the frog as a hat.

"How much for that one?"

"It's free," he said. "That's the joke."

"The joke is worth—"

"Nothing. That's why it's funny."

[FINAL LP UPDATE - Q4 2025] Dear Limited Partners,

Our platform team has exceeded all performance targets this year. We'll let you decide which kind of performance we mean. Not acknowledging the double entendre may itself be fraudulent, but acknowledging it would definitely be fraudulent, creating a fraud superposition that our lawyers call "Schrödinger's Securities Violation."

The platform team's innovative approach to performance has generated:

One of our platform team members (who may or may not be that Greylock associate you saw discovering fraud at Original Joe's) has been nominated for both a Tony Award and inclusion in the Dow Jones Industrial Average.

Remember: The performance is real. The returns are performed. The performance of the returns generates real returns. The real returns are a performance. If this seems fraudulent, that's part of the performance. If it seems like performance, that's potentially fraudulent.

Sincerely, 

The General Partners

THIS DOCUMENT IS OVER STOP

This document is not intended as investment advice. Any resemblance to actual funds, living or dead, or actual returns, realized or theoretical, is strictly coincidental. Past performance is not indicative of future results. Future results are not indicative of present reality. Present reality has a 4-year vesting schedule. Please invest responsibly, or don't. The market will decide what this means. Please be aware that the market has already decided and all decisions may be priced in. The price is wrong. The wrong is right. The right tail laughs. The left tail laughs. The middle panel writes a memo about laughing. This disclaimer is part of the returns. The returns are part of the disclaimer.