How Spacex Humiliated Wall Street

TITLE: How SpaceX Humiliated Wall Street CHANNEL: Patrick Boyle DATE: ---TRANSCRIPT--- Yesterday morning, the largest company ever to go public started trading on NASDAQ. We’ll get to that in just a moment. But first, I have to tell you about something even stranger, which is that the stock market has, as of this week, stopped shrinking. For the last 20 years or so, the US stock market operated under a very simple and reliable mechanical law. There was always less stock available today than there had been yesterday. Since roughly 2003, we’ve been living through an era of public equity contraction, and it happened through three doors all at once. The first was an IPO drought. Companies that in the past would have gone public stayed private far longer, so fewer new shares arrived. The second was the buyback boom. Listed companies flushed with cash and short on ideas spent enormous sums buying back their own stock, which retires shares and shrinks the pool. And the third was private equity, which spent the error hovering up listed companies and taking them private, removing them from the market entirely. Less inflow, less existing supply, and the net result was that there was less and less stock available for investors to buy. If you were an investor, this was great news. There was a lot of money looking for a home and a shrinking number of shares to put it in. And when more money chases fewer shares, prices tend to go up. Valuations rose substantially. By the end of it, investors were paying far more for each dollar of company earnings than they had at the start. Now, in fairness, a good deal of the performance came from earnings actually growing, and some came from interest rates being on the floor for most of the era. I’m not going to pretend that the shrinking share count did all of the work, but it certainly didn’t hurt, and it provided a steady tailwind behind the longest bull market in history. I personally found this arrangement very agreeable and had hoped it would continue forever.

There’s a reason the buybacks were so large and it tells you what these companies actually were. The big tech firms whose returns explain most of the US markets outperformance over that era were until very recently asset light websites. They threw off enormous amounts of cash and didn’t need much capital to run. So when they did go public, it often wasn’t really to raise money that they needed. It was to give early VC investors and employees a way to cash out and to create a liquid public currency that they could use to pay staff in stock. Having gone public, they generated more cash than they knew what to do with and used a great deal of it to buy their own shares back. Meta is the clearest example. Facebook, as it used to be and truthfully still is known, raised around $16 billion when it went public in 2012. In the years since, it spent vastly more than that buying its own stock back, well over hundred billion, including around $45 billion in 2021 alone. Now, just to be clear, I’m talking about dollars, not share count. Meta’s shares outstanding have only drifted down gently because it keeps issuing new stock to pay employees and then the buybacks roughly offset that. But in pure dollar terms, Meta has handed far more cash to its departing shareholders than it ever raised from selling shares in the first place. Incidentally, a good chunk of that 2021 buyback was done at an average price of around $330 a share shortly before the stock fell to around $100 a share. So, they weren’t just buying their stock back, they were buying it back at the top. But the broader point still stands. For most of the last two decades, American companies were net buyers of their own shares. They were taking stock off the table, not putting it on.

As of this week, that’s all over. The stock market has stopped shrinking and started expanding on a scale that we’ve never really seen before. Goldman Sachs is forecasting $225 billion of new IPO volume hitting the market this year. Once you include follow-on offerings and other share issuance from the existing giants, they expect that figure to reach $675 billion. This is a fairly considerable change in direction. The reason is of course artificial intelligence. Before I dig into that though, let me tell you about this week’s video sponsor, SY. Anyone who travels knows the feeling. You land in a new country, switch on your phone, and worry about the roaming charges that can quickly stack up while you’re still walking to baggage claim. SY takes that whole problem off the table. It’s an eim app that gives you affordable data in more than 200 destinations around the world. And the part that genuinely makes life easier is that you only install the app once. That’s the whole setup. One app, one install, and after that it’s easy. Every time you go somewhere new, you just open s and pick a plan for that country. No swapping physical SIM cards, no queuing at an airport kiosk, no hunting down a local provider in a language that you don’t speak. You sort it all out before you leave home, choosing a plan that fits how much data you actually need. The moment you land, your phone connects automatically to a local network. Because you’re on a local data plan rather than roaming, there are no nasty surprises waiting on your bill when you get back home. You can order a car, pull up maps, or call ahead to your hotel the second you step off the plane. Get an exclusive 15% discount on sale data plans. Download the SY app using the link in the description or this QR code and use the code boil at checkout.

Big tech companies are no longer just websites. They’ve decided that winning the AI arms race requires transforming themselves into asset heavy firms. Building enormous data centers, buying millions of very expensive Nvidia chips, and wiring up their own power plants to run them. Some are even talking about building this infrastructure in outer space. So, the companies that spent two decades buying their own stock back are now all at once selling new stock to the public. The stock market has been redesigned into a giant $675 billion pawn shop where the most valuable technology companies on Earth awkwardly pass the hat around to pay their infrastructure bills. Now remember what IPOs were originally for. A company usually goes public for two reasons. To raise capital for the business and to create a public market where the founders and early shareholders can eventually convert some of their stake into cash. It’s not a free lunch though. You have to listen to your investors and you have to open the books. A private company shows its numbers to nobody, while a public company is required by law to publish audited accounts every quarter in documents that any competitor can download for free. Academics have pointed out it’s even subtler than that. A high stock price is itself a signal advertising to all of your rivals how excited investors are about your line of business. So, you’re tipping off the competition twice. once with the numbers and once with the valuation. The standards have slipped a lot over time. According to a 2002 paper by Ritter and Welsh, back in the 1960s and 70s, a prestigious investment bank would generally not take a firm public unless it had at least four years of positive earnings. By the 1980s, the bar had dropped to four quarters. And even then, only 19% of firms had negative earnings at IPO. That crept up to 37% by the late 1990s and finally reached 79% at the peak of the dot bubble. When that bubble burst, the IPO market went quiet and the press began talking about unicorns, billion-dollar private companies like Google and Facebook that stayed private far longer than ever before because they could raise all of the capital they needed privately without any of the costs we just discussed. Today, a billion-doll private company isn’t worth commenting on. We’re now in the era of the trillion dollar private company, and right now they all seem to want to go public all at once. The biggest of them started trading yesterday. SpaceX.

SpaceX priced its IPO on Thursday evening, selling more than 555 million shares at exactly $135 each, raising around $75 billion and possibly $86 billion if the banks exercise their green shoe option. an overallotment mechanism named after the Green Shoe Manufacturing Company, which first used one in 1960. At $135 a share, the whole company is valued at $1.78 trillion, which makes it by a wide margin the largest IPO in the history of finance. One additional thing stands out. Selling 75 to86 billion of stock at a $ 1.78 trillion valuation means SpaceX sold around four or 5% of itself to the public. For the biggest IPO ever, that’s a remarkably small slice. Companies usually offer around 20% of their stock. The company raised an enormous sum while parting with almost none of itself, which tells you most of what you need to know about who has the upper hand here. And it carries through into how the deal is structured because as a shareholder, you get remarkably little for your money. Like Zuckerberg and Google before him, Musk used a dual class share structure. His class B shares carry 10 votes each. The class A shares, the ones the public are buying, carry one vote, which means that Musk doesn’t really have to listen to the people who just funded him. On top of that, SpaceX reinccorporated from Delaware to Texas in 2024, and Texas law is considerably less shareholder friendly. It requires you to own a 3% stake worth tens of billions of dollars before you can even file a shareholder proposal, which removes that option for essentially everyone watching this video. And then there’s the courthouse. SpaceX’s charter pushes disputes into mandatory private arbitration, waves the right to a jury trial, and bans class actions. As the shareholder advocate Bruce Herbert put it, the structure closes the voting door, the courthouse door, and the proposal door simultaneously, which he called unprecedented. So, you can give SpaceX your money, but you can’t vote, you can’t realistically sue, and you can’t file a proposal. In exchange, you get a small, voteless, unlitigatable piece of the largest company ever to go public.

Now, you might think that putting together the largest financial transaction in human history would be a moment of triumph for Wall Street. Victory lapse, expensive dinners, reminding everyone who runs the global economy. But the SpaceX IPO has actually been an exercise in profound, almost agonizing public humiliation for the world’s most prestigious banks. If you think retail investors got a raw deal, you should see what happened to the bankers. Okay, they’re still doing fine. It’s a half a billion dollars in fees, but they’re not doing as well as they’d hoped. Normally, an investment bank’s main job in an IPO, and the way it justifies its enormous fee is price discovery. It sets a reasonable price range and then spends weeks calling institutional investors to ask how many shares they’d buy and at what price, building out an order book, managing the tension between the company which wants a high price and the investors who want a good deal. SpaceX completely inverted this. Matt Lavine explained this with his Elon Markets hypothesis where SpaceX simply announced that it was going public and that the price was exactly $135 a share. No range, no negotiation, no balancing of sentiment. Elon Musk just decided that the company was worth $135 a share and told Wall Street to go out and sell it. It’s the financial equivalent of a highly paid surgeon being asked to stand in the corner and hold a tray while the patient happily operates on himself. And because the banks were stripped of their function, they were also stripped of their fees, which truly is the worst part. Historically, the standard fee for taking a company public in the United States was 7%. On very large deals, they cut those fees quite a bit. Facebook paid 1.1% in 2012. Uber paid 1.3% in 2019. For SpaceX, the most powerful investment banks on Earth, fought over the deal and eventually agreed to less than 75%. Now, in fairness, 75% of $75 billion is still over half a billion. So, no one’s taking up a collection for them. But on the raid the thing bankers measured their status by, they completely surrendered, taking on the role of heavily regulated utility providers processing paperwork on a fixedpric deal at the margins of a discount supermarket.

And how did the titans of Wall Street respond to being stripped of their power and paid a fraction of their usual rate? Well, with overwhelming desperate gratitude. The Economist recently wrote about this using a term popularized by Gen Z daters, the ick, which they describe as the sudden loss of romantic interest after watching someone you admire do something embarrassing. And watching American high finance court SpaceX has been genuinely icky. Executives at Goldman Sachs and Morgan Stanley turned their pristine corporate lobbies into what can only be described as a high school science fair, erecting decorative rockets and hanging space banners over reception desks. Bank of America lit up the spire of its Manhattan headquarters in the shape of a rocket lifting off. There was also the matter of who they had to sell it to. A banker’s natural habitat is in a quiet room with a sovereign wealth fund, an endowment fund, or someone who measures their positions in billions. People who speak the language and can be taken to dinner. For SpaceX, the bankers instead found themselves running what was essentially a very large raffle. A fifth of the largest IPO in history was set aside for retail investors, ordinary members of the public. and the public showed up. Retail orders came in at more than a hundred billion dollars, chasing roughly $15 billion of available stock. So, the book was oversubscribed by individual investors alone by something like 7 to1. Somewhere in a Goldman office, a managing director who spent his career flying to Abu Dhabi to charm a man with a trillion dollars of assets under management was instead watching a tidal wave of $500 orders come in through an app and explaining to most of these people that there wasn’t enough to go around. That’s not really what they signed up for.

At Morgan Stanley, Michael Grimes, the banker long viewed as Musk’s closest advisor on Wall Street, the man who ran the IPOs of Facebook, Uber, and Palunteer and steered the $44 billion Twitter buyout, had been widely expected to lead the deal. He didn’t. Goldman Sachs having drafted the prospectus months before anyone outside Davos had even heard the IPO was coming took the lead left role out from under him. So the most important relationship banker of the entire Musk era got outmaneuvered on the largest deal of his career. Now the official explanation is that Goldman did more of the work and got there first. But I have a different theory which I’d like to state clearly I have no evidence for. The banker’s name is Michael Grimes. And Musk’s former partner, the musician, is also called Grimes. And I find it more satisfying to believe that Elon Musk could not bring himself to hand the biggest IPO in history to a man whose name reminded him every single morning of a relationship that didn’t work out. This is almost certainly not what happened, but it improves the story and that’s good enough for me. Meanwhile, at Goldman, there was a widely circulated rumor that the bank won its role because the club DJ known as DJ Diesel, who also happens to moonlight as the CEO of Goldman Sachs, had personally slid into Musk’s direct messages on X, uh, which is Twitter. Solomon has since had to publicly deny this, going on the record to clarify that he did not in fact secure a role in the largest IPO in history by texting the world’s richest man and receiving a rocket emoji as a reply. When the head of Goldman Sachs and also a very important DJ has to issue a formal denial that he got the deal by sliding into someone’s DMs, you’re no longer looking at the masters of the universe. According to Reuters, Musk even forced the banks on the deal to sign up for his maximum truth seeeking AI uh Grock, which may partially explain why the IPO prospectus was so weird.

To secure their miserable fee, the banks also had to stand behind some rather aggressive numbers. chiefly SpaceX’s headline claim that it’s going after a total addressable market of $28.5 trillion. You have to imagine that a mathematics major who secured a job at an investment bank was given the task of explaining the valuation in the prospectus. Now, 28.5 trillion is about a quarter of the entire world’s annual economic output, which seems like a lot to spend on rockets and Grock. And I imagine that this grad initially struggled with this number. And if we think through that number, which you definitely shouldn’t do, it’s not going to help thinking too much. There are roughly a billion people on the planet who earn more than about $12,000 a year. Call that everyone with any real money to spend. Divide that $28.5 trillion across those billion people and that prospectus is assuming that every financially active human on Earth will hand a rocket company around $28,500 per year every year forever. It’s worth noting that this is roughly three times what the planet currently spends on food. Now, of course, that’s just an assumption in the perspectus. If you think that people will spend more than $28,500 per year on average on rural broadband and other ancillary space AI services, then the stock price is actually cheap and uh you should pile in. Of that massive total addressable market, only about $2 trillion has anything whatsoever to do with space. This is because the market for space launch is about half the size of the market for potato chips. The other $26.5 trillion thus is AI and Twitter. So a rocket company has told the market its real opportunity is selling enterprise AI to the entire global middle class at roughly the price of a small car each year, which a math major on their first day in banking would have struggled with. But that math major is now a banker and had to turn off the part of his brain that does arithmetic and write the big number down because that’s what it takes to stay in the syndicate and earn the measly half a billion dollar fee. The power dynamic one way or another has flipped. For decades, investment banks were the gatekeepers of capital. If you wanted money, you played by the rules. Today, in the era of the trillion dollar IPOs, they’re just eager, slightly desperate suitors, happy to accept any indignity as long as their logo appears somewhere on the prospectus.

So, what does a company do with $75 billion in cash? You’d assume that it would comfortably fund SpaceX’s operations, its Mars efforts, and its orbital AI data centers for a generation. You’d be wrong. In the new era of heavy industrial AI, $75 billion is basically walking around money. A research firm called Capefar Advisors combed through SpaceX’s filings and added up the disclosed contractual cash commitments that the company has made through 2030. They arrived at a cash gap of approximately $235 billion. So, the largest IPO in history covers a little under onethird of what the company has already committed to spending over the next four years. And that’s the conservative view. SpaceX’s own lead underwriter expects it to burn through even more. When the bank trying to sell you the stock has glooier projections than the critics, you found yourself an interesting situation. So, where’s the money going? Well, right off the bat, the first $20 billion isn’t going to space at all. It’s committed to paying off a bridge loan taken out in March to retire some high yielding debt. Some carrying rates as high as 12 a.5% belonging to the Everything app, formerly known as Twitter, and Musk’s AI startup XAI, right before both were folded into the SpaceX conglomerate. So out of $75 billion raised to go to Mars, 20 billion immediately walks out the back door to refinance a social media buyout. Then there’s the computing power, which is where it gets genuinely strange. SpaceX signed a contract under which the rival AI firm Anthropic will pay it $1.25 25 billion a month through May 2029. A $45 billion commitment for AI compute that according to the filings doesn’t yet fully exist. So Anthropic, a company itself about to go public to raise money, has agreed to pay Musk’s Rocket Company $45 billion to rent data centers that don’t appear to have been fully built yet. Then just days before the IPO, SpaceX announced a second rental deal. This time a $30 billion contract with Google. Some of these firms are paying others with money none of them has yet for things that haven’t been built. And my favorite footnote is something the FT calls the cursor option. SpaceX has structured an acquisition option that pushes it towards issuing more equity. And if it chooses not to go ahead, it triggers a cash termination fee of $10 billion. Let me repeat that. The penalty for not doing a deal is $10 billion in cash.

This IPO is not a one-off. They’re raising 75 billion today to set a share price, which they’ll then use to issue more shares and more shares to fund a $235 billion gap, which may keep growing. And SpaceX is not alone. Right behind it are Anthropic and Open AI, both of which have confidentially filed to go public. Open AAI raised a record private round of up to $122 billion back in March and is now months later filing to raise still more at a valuation it hopes will top a trillion dollars. In its filing, it helpfully clarified that it hasn’t actually decided to go public and that it may be a while and that there are things we want to do that are likely easier as a private company. A striking thing to announce in the document you file in order to become a public company. Anthropic, the company paying SpaceX that $45 billion, was recently valued at around $900 billion and filed its own paperwork days ago. So, one firm is funding the other’s cash gap, and both are about to ask the public to fund theirs. And it’s not just the new companies. Alphabet, the parent of Google, just raised around $85 billion in a new equity offering, its first stock sale in over two decades. This was the largest equity offering in history, bigger than even the SpaceX IPO. Meta, you know, Facebook, uh, which spent over a hundred billion buying its own stock back at the top of the market, has gone the other way entirely. Its capital spending is now forecast at up to $145 billion a year. To fund that, it’s already done its largest ever bond offering of around $30 billion. Struck a separate $27 billion deal with the private credit firm Blue Owl and is now, after watching Alphabet’s record raise, reportedly considering selling tens of billions of dollars in new stock on top of all of that. Now, it may not happen. Nothing’s decided. But the direction of travel is the thing. The poster child for buying your own shares back is now working through every method of raising money that there is. And when the report came out, the stock fell almost 7%. Investors, having spent a decade applauding the company for shrinking its share count, did not love the idea of it growing again.

So, the smartest, most profitable companies on Earth have all worked out the same thing all at once. That building AI infrastructure costs more than their own cash flows can supply. So, they’re passing the hat, which brings us to an important question. Who exactly is putting money into the hat? And what happens when they try to take it back out? The answer increasingly is you. Normally, a bank hands a hot IPO to its favorite institutional clients and tosses retail investors maybe 5 to 10% if they’re lucky. SpaceX carved out somewhere between 20 and 30% specifically for retail. They took the largest IPO in history and turned a quarter of it into a mass market retail product. Now, when a company suddenly decides it’s desperate to sell tens of billions of dollars of stock to the general public, it’s worth consulting the academic literature. In 1986, the economist Kevin Rock, uh, no relation of Kid Rock as far as I know, published a famous paper in the Journal of Financial Economics, why new issues are underpriced, outlining how IPOs are priced and why they pop on their first day. A 2002 paper by Argawal explained the winner’s curse. The authors explained how institutional investors are informed buyers and retail investors are uninformed. If an IPO is genuinely a great deal, the informed institutions buy it all and retail gets scaled back. But if it’s a dud, the institutions walk, the bank is left holding the bag and quickly pass it on to retail. So, if you ask for a 100 shares and actually get all 100, you shouldn’t be celebrating. You should be terrified because the smart money just left the building. I should admit at this point that I’ve personally received the full allocation on every IPO I’ve ever applied for, which I’ve always chosen to read as a sign of my excellent judgment. With SpaceX, the retail book was massively oversubscribed. So, that’s not quite what happened here, but the fact that Wall Street designed a deal that needed $20 billion of retail money to get across the line tells you something about who they wanted in the building.

And the mechanics of how they’re keeping them there are a small marvel of financial engineering because Wall Street is perfectly happy to let retail buy the IPO, but it’s suddenly very strict about letting them sell it. A retail investor’s instinct with a hot tech IPO might be to flip it. Buy at 135 on Thursday night, sell it at 180 on Friday morning. To prevent this, the brokers have rolled out new rules. Fidelity lowered its maximum IPO account balance from half a million to just $2,000 to attract small accounts into the deal. SoFi runs a 30-day anti- flipping window and will ban investors who sell their shares early. They even threaten a $50 fee for any retail investor selling IPO shares within the first 120 days of trading. Nerd Wallet explained that brokers do this because they want people to buy into IPOs because they believe in the company and want to hold the stock long term, which is a polite way of saying that mass retail selling on day one would cause the price to fall and humiliate the underwriters. These lockups work along with the rapid index inclusion that Musk is reported to have demanded from index providers like NASDAQ. The major indices have for the most part bent the knee to Musk. Normally a company goes through a lengthy seasoning period before joining a major index. For SpaceX, NASDAQ created a fast entry rule, granting mega IPOs admission to the NASDAQ 100 just 15 trading days after listing. Footsie Russell went further, sweeping the company into the Russell 1000 in just 5 days. The one hold out was the S&P 500, which reaffirmed its existing rules and declined to fasttrack SpaceX at all. So look at the plumbing. Retail investors are heavily allocated into the largest, most expensive public offering in history. Their brokers threaten them with punishment if they sell early. And at almost exactly the point that they’re allowed to sell, the giant passive index funds, which manage the retirement savings of millions of people who have no idea any of this is going on, will be forced by NASDAQ’s rules to buy billions of dollars of SpaceX stock, regardless of price. Wall Street has in effect lured the retail public into a room, locked the doors for a couple of weeks and asked them to hold the price steady until the price insensitive index funds are required to start buying.

And it isn’t just the American retail investor getting roped in. In the UK, the Financial Conduct Authority recently introduced a new public offer platform regime designed to let British retail investors buy into newly listing growth stocks without the burden of reading a traditional heavily regulated prospectus. SpaceX is the first company to really use it with British orders funneled through a broker called Marx Financial. And the best part of the new UK regulation is that the platform operator Marx is expected to guarantee that the issuing company will have enough money to operate for at least 6 months after the offer closes. So somewhere in London, a small brokerage firm has guaranteed its regulator that a $ 1.78 trillion aerospace AI conglomerate run by the world’s most unpredictable billionaire, relying for a slice of its revenue on a $45 billion compute contract with another company that hasn’t gone public yet for data centers that don’t fully exist is good for the money at least until Christmas.

So, we have a $675 billion tidal wave of new equity crashing into the market, a retail public locked in a room by their brokers, and a pipeline of trillion dollar private companies all passing the hat to pay for Nvidia chips. The natural question is, will this break the stock market? Is this the top? There are people who think so. A sudden rush of IPOs is often the bell ringing at the top of a cycle. It happened in 1929, in the late 1960s, and famously in the dotcom bubble of 1999 and 2000. When company insiders all decide at once that right now is the very best moment to sell you their stock, they’re usually right and you’re usually wrong. But if you look at the actual plumbing, the slightly boring truth is that the market can probably absorb this just fine. Gavacal recently pointed out that in the year to last September, S&P 500 companies issued about 1.7 trillion of stock, roughly 140 billion a month. So SpaceX’s historic $75 billion raise amounts to a little over two weeks of normal issuance. Even adding in anthropic, open AI, Alphabet, and Meta, the American capital markets can digest all of this without collapsing. So the real question isn’t whether the markets can absorb it, it’s whether it’ll actually be a good investment. For that, the record tells a clear story. The size of an IPO has essentially no bearing on whether it turns out well. Until yesterday, the largest IPO ever was Saudi Aramco, which raised 25.6 billion in 2019 and has been a poor performer ever since. Visa raised 17.9 billion in the depths of the 2008 crisis and has since returned something in the region of 3,000%. It isn’t the size of the deal that matters. It’s the durability of the business and the price you pay. And right now, investors are paying a remarkable price. At $135 a share, SpaceX is valued at more than 90 times its trailing revenues. Not its profits, its revenues. The company loses money on a massive scale. If you want a parallel for buying a genuinely revolutionary technology company at a high valuation, you can go back to Cisco in 2000, the ultimate picks and shovels company of the early internet. Cisco built the routers and switches that made the web work. It was a phenomenal business. In March 2000, it briefly overtook Microsoft as the most valuable company in the world. But the valuation had detached from reality. And when the bubble burst and the stock collapsed, Cisco did survive. It kept growing its earnings, stayed dominant and profitable. But it still took until December 2025, more than 25 years, for the stock to close at a new record above its 2000 peak. If you bought at the top, you waited a quarter of a century just to break even on one of the great surviving companies of the internet age.

SpaceX may well colonize Mars. It may build the greatest orbital data centers the world has ever seen. But at a $1.78 trillion valuation, it is priced for perfection. The perspective shows SpaceX making twice as much from advertising as Google makes today. That and a bunch of other things too have to work to justify the valuation. The SpaceX IPO is the most visible symptom of a much larger shift. The 23-year era of the shrinking stock market is over. Those acid light software businesses that threw off cash and bought back their own shares have turned into acidheavy businesses needing power plants, laying fiber optic cable, launching massive satellites. They’ve become the 21st century version of the 19th century railroads. And like the railroads, they need a bottomless supply of capital to build the thing out. The stock market isn’t going to break. It’s just going back to its original job. It’s no longer a machine that shrinks share counts to push your retirement account higher on its own. It’s a pawn shop again where the most ambitious companies on Earth come to ask you for your money. When trading opened on Friday, investors stepped up to the plate, swapping their savings for a small, voteless, unlitigatable piece of a 28.5 trillion dream. The stock closed today up around 19% which is typical performance for an IPO. I told you at the start that I’d assumed the easy years would last forever. They didn’t. I’m now off to read the next two prospectuses that I probably won’t get a vote on and probably won’t be allowed to sue anyone about. Let’s see how it goes. If you found this video interesting, you should watch my video on whether OpenAI expects a government bailout next. Don’t forget to check out our sponsor SY using the link in the description. See you in the next video. Bye.

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