If I had a billion dollars tomorrow (or hell, ten million), I wouldn’t go buy a sports car.

I’d keep my base model Rav4.

Watches, clothes, cars… I care not for the trappings of wealth!

I’m much more interested in what can be built/done with money like that.

So why do I spend so much time building brands? Isn’t a fancy brand the same thing as a fancy car? Something flashy but ultimately useless?

It might seem contradictory, but I believe a brand at its best isn't an appearance, but something real.

A brand for me is a vehicle: a vehicle that helps complex ideas come through.

It’s not about flashy for flash sake. It’s about how all the details either work together to paint a picture or they don’t.

A great brand is how great ideas become real.

A great car is how guys like me broadcast insecurity.

That’s the power the human brain draws to do everything that makes us human.

While the capacity for AI to match the brain on a neuronal level would be somewhere between a server rack with a handful of GPUs and a warehouse, we don’t really know how to make these processes as efficient as the human brain is today.

Imagine a light bulb that is constantly categorizing memories, making connections, powering our subconscious bodily functions while making sense of a complex universe. That’s one incredible bulb!

So we judge AI’s future expansion based on the current power draw today. But remember: A “computer” was once a behemoth that filled a large room, too. And now your wristwatch dwarfs ENIAC in computation on a fraction of the power draw.

So until an AI brain is 20 watts or less, we’re not done yet.

(Also, further proof that the human brain is remarkable.)

When you’re trying to explain a technical concept to an intelligent group of people, don’t just write exactly what you’re going to speak on the slides.

And when you perform, don’t just read what’s written—this is never a dynamic or engaging presentation.

As a rule? Put as little as possible on each slide.

If a single image or a single word can be the curiosity opener or the punchline of your message, the audience will pay more attention to you and spend less time watching you read what they can read, too.

Most businesses with one operator are in highly competitive industries.

Think realtors, service professionals, musicians, freelancers… It’s unlikely that you’re in a business that is so unique that you don’t have millions of potential competitors out there.

Now if you’re Lionel Messi, Shohei Ohtani, or Beyoncé, you are so exceptional that you tower head and shoulders above any potential competitors.

Most of us aren’t like that.

It’s very unlikely that I can convince you I’m a better dentist than the 4,000 other dentists in your 5-mile radius.

But if you share your point of view—if you're comfortable with putting the weirdness that makes you you out into the world, that’s your best chance of attracting customers.

They won’t buy because you’re the best in your field. They’ll buy because you’re you, and they like you.

The greatest feeling in the world is connecting deeply with likeminded human beings.

The worst feeling in the world? Being isolated from likeminded human beings.

So we conflate (a lack of) social media metrics with isolation or connection.

But the insidious part of social media is that it hijacks these basic human desires and inserts itself between us as if it were a necessary medium for that connection.

These companies want to make us believe that social media is like air.

But in reality? It’s more like cotton candy.

It can be nice, it’s mostly fluff, it’ll probably rot your teeth if you eat too much, and if you breathe it they’ll kick you out of the carnival for “causing a scene”.

Cough.