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Four months after we launched Manus, I was invited to a dinner with President Macron. I ended up seated directly across from Jensen Huang. He was half an hour late, and Macron asked him to give a toast. Jensen picked up his wine glass and turned it into a fully improvised speech — in front of a table of European politicians and founders. It was electric. The charisma of a top founder, on full display. I typed the whole thing into my Notes that night. Still one of the sharpest takes I’ve heard on software, AI and Europe. What a pity. What a loss.

My mom fed a homeless man behind our house for 20 years. Three meals a day, even when we couldn’t afford electricity. I hated her for it. The day after her funeral, that same man took my hands, looked me straight in the eyes, and said: “Before she died, she begged me to stay silent.” I honestly had no idea what he was talking about. For 20 years, this man had lived in a makeshift shelter behind our rental house. My mom brought him breakfast, lunch, and dinner. Every single day. And the crazy thing was, we were poor too. My sneakers had tape covering the holes. Sometimes we struggled to pay our bills, and there were days when we couldn’t even afford electricity. But somehow, my mother always found enough food to feed him. I never understood it. I remember coming home two days before Christmas and finding a yellow eviction notice taped to our front door. We were struggling to keep a roof over our heads, yet my mother was still preparing three meals a day for a stranger. That night, I finally lost my temper. Me: “Maybe if you stopped feeding strangers, we wouldn’t live like this!” My mom turned around so quickly that I knew I had crossed a line. Mom: “Don’t you ever DARE say that again.” I had never seen her that furious before. I didn’t understand why she was defending him so strongly when her own child was going without things. I moved out when I turned 18. We fought less after that, mostly because I stopped asking questions. But the man stayed. Year after year, his little shelter remained behind our house, and my mother continued feeding him. Then my mom got sick. Cancer made her small. She became quiet, and it was the kind of quiet that scares you because you know something terrible is happening. Two weeks before she died, she reached out and grabbed my wrist. Her grip was so weak that it broke my heart. Mom: “Promise me you’ll keep feeding him.” I looked at her. Honestly, I wanted to say no. I wanted to ask why she was still worrying about that man when she was the one who needed help. But you don’t lie to a dying mother. So I promised. My mom eventually passed away. The day after her funeral, I prepared the best meal I could, put it on a plate, covered it with foil, and drove to her house. I had promised her I would keep feeding him. But when I got there, the man was gone. His shelter had been completely cleared out. Everything was gone. The ground had even been swept clean, as if those 20 years had never happened. I stood there holding the warm plate, wondering where he could have gone. Then I noticed something. A black SUV was parked at the curb. Standing beside it was a man wearing an expensive wool coat. He was clean-shaven, well-dressed, and looked nothing like the homeless man I had known for 20 years. But the thing that caught my attention was what he was holding. My mother’s old silver locket. The same locket she had told me she lost when I was eight years old. He looked at me and said: Man: “I thought you wouldn’t come.” I stared at him. Me: “Wait… is that you? What’s going on?” He smiled, but his expression was unsteady. His eyes were already filling with tears. Man: “Your mom hid something from you.” I felt my stomach tighten. Me: “What did she hide?” He looked at the plate in my hands before responding. Man: “Before she died, she begged me to stay silent.” My blood went cold. Me: “Silent about what?” He gently shook his head. Man: “Sit down. You shouldn’t hear this standing in the cold.” We sat on the front steps. The plate was still warm between us. He turned my mother’s silver locket over in his palm as though it might break. Then he began telling me something I never could have imagined. Man: “My real name is Vernon Hale. Before all this, I owned a company. I had a big house in Connecticut, a wife, and a little girl. My daughter was six years old.” I just stared at him.

An American porn actress says a single shoot in Madrid involved 80 men and nearly a liter of semen. She counted 122 ejaculations, followed by another 10 onto her face. The night before, she had sat across from the director asking about pay and medical testing. He answered by opening a spreadsheet. In the interview below, she describes how the production was organized, from recruiting performers to deciding when she could take a break. According to her, the studio maintained a roster of around 300 men in Madrid. Getting onto it required a referral. Test results fed into the spreadsheet so the crew could track who was cleared to participate. The men could earn more depending on the shot they delivered. She says she was given three medications before filming, including one she describes as a muscle relaxant. Nine women worked as fluffers. Their waiting room had pink furniture and candy on the table. Outside, the men lined up while her videos played on a television. The shoot followed a repeating schedule: ten ejaculations into her mouth, swallow, then another ten. After fifty, she took a break and recorded an interview before returning. One assistant held a bowl beneath her chin to catch whatever spilled. She says the role even had a name: “scooper.” Amid all that coordination, she remembers one man missing and quietly apologizing. “I’m so sorry. I’m so sorry.” For the final sequence, she requested ten men instead of the usual five. Then the director addressed the group in Spanish. One word caught her attention: “ojos.” Eyes. Afterward, she asked whether he had instructed them to aim at her eyes. He denied it. According to her, he had repeated something she mentioned over dinner - that she didn’t mind and the men interpreted it differently. She has since referred other American performers to the production. “I’ve sent them so many Americans.”

It took two weeks to end the career of the most successful Asian American in history. Jensen washed dishes at Denny‘s as a teenager, and by this year he was running the world’s most valuable company. This week a lot of Asian people on my timeline decided that story is over. That no matter how high you climb, a face like ours gets a different set of rules at the top. After Elizabeth Holmes, female founders spent years getting asked some version of “how do we know you’re not the next Holmes?“ One woman‘s fraud turned into a question every woman had to answer. I’m Chinese Canadian, I grew up in Vancouver, and now I live in the Bay Area. I already know what my version of that question is going to be and it‘s pathetic. Jensen was born in Taiwan and spent over thirty years building an American company. The second the word ”China“ landed next to his name, none of that counted. This country has done this before. In 1882 it banned Chinese immigrants. In 1942 it locked up 120,000 Japanese Americans, most of them citizens. In 1982 two Detroit autoworkers who blamed Japan for their jobs beat Vincent Chin to death with a baseball bat. He was Chinese. His killers never spent a day in prison. Yellow peril never checked which Asian you were, and that’s a big part of why “Asian American“ became one word. If they were going to lump us together anyway, we might as well stand together. Now look at Jensen‘s timeline. Oct 29, the spy story breaks. The next day Singapore’s government says it never said what the Wall Street Journal claimed. Nov 8, he admits an affair. Nov 12, he‘s gone. The spy part is still unproven. Two weeks start to finish, right before what could be the biggest IPO in AI. You can call that a coincidence. I don’t buy it. Meanwhile the powerful people who raped CHILDREN in the Epstein files are mostly still living their best life Jensen had an affair with an adult woman. That’s the only thing of what‘s actually been proven. So what exactly did Jensen do that was worse than them? Nothing. He was the best, he was Asian, and he was on the wrong side of the political fight. He did everything right. He built the company America needed most and showed up to every dinner in Washington. On Sunday night the president himself stood up for him and called him “an honorable guy.” It didn’t matter. By Thursday he was gone. If you can take down the president‘s favorite CEO in four days while the president is defending him, think about who that message was really for. They’ll use you for thirty years and still never count you as one of them. That’s what a political weapon is. You’re a tool while you’re useful. When the game gets serious, you’re the knife. And when it’s over, nobody comes back for the knife. Jensen was the best one they had. That's exactly why he made such a good "kitchenware".

In June @NaderLikeLadder emailed Jensen about a crazy idea we had over dinner to make Local AI 10x better on NVIDIA hardware. Jensen replied in 7 minutes. He saw this as important work, and approved a war room for us to work on this at NVIDIA HQ. For a month, NVIDIA HQ was the @exolabs satellite office. We were overwhelmed by the support we got. We were back to back the first week with smart NVIDIANs coming in to our war room to help us. Creators of CUDA, Dynamo, people who built NVIDIA. Long story short with NVIDIA we managed to improve their Local AI playbooks by 9.6x (almost the 10x goal we set out with). We’ll be publishing a whitepaper on this work. We were just a small startup with a crazy idea. Jensen took a bet on us. Jensen cares deeply about Open Source AI and Local AI. I don't believe Jensen is replaceable, he's a 1 of 1 human, but I hope NVIDIA will continue to aggressively support Open Source AI and Local AI, and continue to take bets on small startups with crazy ideas. Thank you Jensen

rise and shine mutuals 🫡🌅 a funny sign on your way home can make you laugh, then disappear from your mind by dinner. most times, nobody even thinks to capture those little moments. that's what caught my attention about @onlystreetsfun OnlyStreets is building a platform where people can turn fresh photos of everyday moments into memecoins, digital coins based on memes. instead of searching online for a funny picture, the idea is to notice something interesting around you. if you spot something unusual on the street, you'd take a fresh photo directly inside the OnlyStreets app and use it to create a coin. what interests me is how the project makes everyday surroundings the starting point for new meme ideas. i wonder how many interesting things we walk past without noticing.

Introducing Tabletop, a collaborative space from @GoogleLabs where you can create custom tools to build, plan, and do more with your friends, family, or club. Send an invite to your group and start a shared hub where everyone can contribute simultaneously for your next trip, potluck, or fantasy league. You can create live dinner polls, trip itineraries, expense splitters, and sports brackets tailored to your group.