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Hi!  I’m Jensen Huang!


Everywhere I go, guys ask me, “Jensen, you’re good with the ladies.  What are your secrets?  How do you do it?” 


Now, most of them think that as the world’s tenth richest man, it’s easy for me to meet girls.  But that’s got nothing to do with it.  Mark Zuckerberg is the world’s fourth richest man but for most girls a ten-foot pole isn’t long enough.  Heck, Elon Musk is the world’s richest man and he has to hire chicks to sleep with him by paying  them to have his love babies.  It doesn’t really matter if you’re as rich as I am, or just some poor schlub making a million bucks a year.  It’s all about making the right moves. 


Let me lay it all out for you.


First, be on the lookout for “signals.”


Let me give you a good example.  NVDIA hosted an industry event in California in early 2024.  We have these events all the time because our industry is so closely connected to itself.  For example, Company A buys the stock of Company B and Company B sells compute power to Company A, and Company C takes a loan from Company D, to build a data center and to buy some stock in Company A, lather, rinse, repeat. 


In fact, I frequently invest in companies that take that money and then buy our chips with it.  People say I’m a genius, but the truth is I got the idea from an episode of It’s Always Sunny in Philadelphia. 


Well, I’m at this party and I meet this hot chick—no names please—who’s the CEO or something of a company called Megaspeed and who wants to buy our chips so she can sell compute power to other firms—that Company A Company B thing again.  And I say, “Megaspeed?  That’s all?  Shouldn’t that be Gigaspeed, or even Teraspeed?” And she blushes because she can see what a business genius I am and I’ve caught her in a mistake. So she says, “Maybe we can see each other after my next trip to China.”


So, you see, she’s vulnerable already!


Second, be ready when the time comes.


It’s a few months later, it’s about midnight, and I’m in my jammies getting ready for bed after a good night phone call with my wife of forty years, whom I like a great deal.  But then the phone rings and it’s that same woman—I won’t use her name—and she asks me to come down and have a drink with her and some of the other bigwigs.


I come down to the bar.  I order a whiskey, neat, and sit down next to her on a loveseat.  She’s wearing a pink or coral patterned dress and she is babelicious! 

But, I didn’t make any moves.  You’ve got to play the long game.  Besides, she’s buying billions of my chips that she swears she’s not shipping to China to evade export controls, and she’s so cute that I believe her! 


Third, strike when the iron—and you—are hot!


Well, it’s May of 2025 and I’m hosting a big dinner for NVDIA customers at a restaurant in Taipei.  And who should be there but the same hot executive chick!  She’d just gotten back from China, she said.  Well, it’s time to act!  We chatted all evening, and I was getting the good signals.  I put my arm around her and she kissed me on the cheek, and I said to her, “Why don’t we leave in my car together and I can take you to my hotel room?”  And she says, “Don’t you mean my hotel room?”  And I said, “That’s what I said.  My hotel room.”


Well, I could tell she liked my sense of humor, and a funny remark like that will often turn the trick.  We went back to my hotel room and had a festive evening of industry gossip, deal-brokering, and lovemaking.  It was like heaven.  Even as I was in the paroxysms of love’s zenith, she whispered in my ear, “Don’t you want to sell more advance chips to China?” And all I could say was “Yes!  Oh, my God, yes!” and after that I was as spent as the money I’d leant my customers.


Have meaningful conversations with your woman friend.


Well, now things are moving along.  We met at conferences and restaurants, walking along the edges of lawns and sitting on a “Friendship Bench” together.  But that can’t be enough.  You’ve got to create depth in the relationship.


For example, one night we were pillow-talking and I asked her, “What would make you happy right now?”  And she smiled demurely and said, “Selling more advanced chips to China.”  I asked, “Who’s selling them, you or me?”  And she said, “Oh, I don’t know.  You could sell them, or maybe I could transship them through my company.”  She sighed and it was then I noticed a cocktail napkin on her end table.  It said, “Call Li, MSS,” and gave a phone number.  I saw it and wondered what it meant.  So, I asked her, “Alice, my dove—oh damn!  I’ve used her name!  oh well—what is this MSS you refer to on the cocktail napkin on your bedside table?  Could it be—” and here I just went out and said it, “the Chinese Ministry of State Security?”  And she said, “Oh no, silly!  That’s the Multiple Sclerosis Society.  They’re part of our charitable giving program.”  I nodded and then asked, “And who is Li?” and she replied, “It’s not Li, it’s Long Island, where the Multiple Sclerosis Society is located.” 


Boy, I was glad to get that cleared up!  But you have to be cautious when you’re in the romance game and you’re the CEO of the largest and most strategically important company in the world.


Be ready to smooth out the rough spots.


There are going to be some rocky moments in any relationship, but you have to bring trust and understanding to them.


For example, we were having a private dinner in my hotel room.  It was last December, and Trump had decided to approve my selling our advanced  H200 chip to Chinese customers, in exchange for a percentage of the take.  I was very pleased and so was my girl.  We toasted our success and it was then I had the opportunity to raise an issue that was on my mind.


“Darling,” I said, using her name, “there’s something I have to discuss with you.  The President and the Secretary of State tell me you are a Communist spy!  Could that be true, my dove?  I told them there wasn’t any chance of that, and that there was nothing to suggest you had such a background, aside from making leaps from broadcasting to finance and technology at places that often didn’t identify you as an executive there, and your quitting as CEO of Megaspeed but nonetheless claiming to represent them, and your incessant interest in licensing my most advanced chips.  Tell me the truth, now!” And she told me, looking me in the eye all the while, “None of it’s true, dear,” and we had another glass of champagne before retiring to bed to make more sweet love and discuss chip models faster than the H200.


When it comes time to end it, don’t postpone the inevitable.


Well, soon rumors came out that the woman and I were close to each other.  But I quickly put that rumor to bed by saying that our interactions were “business-related” and “normal.”  That worked for about a week, until when the press reported that we were intimate, as they say, and that this woman was a spy.  Was my face red!


Well, I apologized to my wonderful wife, and my wonderful kids, and my wonderful employees for my indiscretion, but then President Trump called me and asked me if I had any idea the woman was a spy and I told him, “No.” 


I mean, if he believes Putin, he could believe me, right?


So that’s it for my girl and I--the last I heard, she was off to China--and my company and I, and maybe my wife and I.  But I hope not.  I like her a great deal.



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Archeologists at the Gamal Abdul Nasser School for the Study of Antiquity at Cairo University have completed the translation of a previously undeciphered wall of hieroglyphics in the tomb of Pharaoh Ramses II, providing invaluable insights into the administration of his regime.

 

TRANSCRIPT OF PRESS CONFERENCE OF

MS. BIRD BIRD ARM BIRD SNAKE,

COMMUNICATIONS VIZIER FOR PHARAOH RAMSES II

 

MS. SNAKE:  Good morning.  I’d like to make this comment about the rejection of Pharaoh Ramses’ offerings to the gods on Offerings Day yesterday.


Pharaoh Ramses accepts the results of these rejections and the will of the gods.  But Pharaoh Ramses wants to make clear that these rejected offerings did not come from him, but rather, from wazirs and priests in local rituals.  As you know, the gods often reject these local offerings when they do not come from Pharaoh himself.  Pharaoh is still completely committed to his goal of Making Egypt Great Again, starting with his triumphant efforts to build the Pyramids and combat the rash of plagues now underway in Egypt. 


Egypt has never experienced a challenge like these plagues, but thanks to Pharaoh Ramses, we are defeating the plagues and preserving our economy’s golden age.  When the rivers turned to blood, some people--notably the Scribes and the Scholars, people who don’t love Egypt--exaggerated the threat out of personal and political animosity to the Pharaoh.  But the rivers then turned back into rivers, despite many negative predictions by the so-called augurers.  There was then a rain of frogs and there were similar warnings of disaster.  But we can now say definitively those were not Egyptian frogs, and that they came from our great enemy, Babylon.

 

I’ll now turn to questions.


QUESTIONER ONE:  Let’s return to the rejected offerings.  In almost all of the principalities and domains in Egypt, the gods did accept offerings from wazirs and priests whose offerings were diametrically opposed to those of Pharaoh Ramses.  Is this an indication that Pharaoh Ramses has lost his divinity?


MS. SNAKE:  Nonsense.  Pharaoh Ramses is still divine and will continue to be. And he will continue his successful efforts to reverse and eliminate the plagues now attacking Egypt.  You mentioned the rivers turning into blood and the rain of frogs, localized instances on which you scribes continue to harp.  But the rivers turned back to water and the frogs went away, thanks to Pharaoh Ramses’ historic efforts.


QUESTIONER ONE:  But aren’t these plagues ample evidence that the gods reject Pharaoh Ramses’ offerings?


MS. SNAKE:  Fake divination!  Pharaoh Ramses continues to enjoy the gods’ unqualified support.


QUESTIONER TWO:  And now we have flies, unimaginable swarms of flies.  What is your comment on this plague of flies?


MS. SNAKE:   Look, we’re Egypt, we’re a great, great dynasty, and we’re going to have flies, we have flies every season.  It’s hot and flies like the heat, everybody knows that.  When Ra the Sun God lowers the sun in the sky in the coming winter months, it will be cooler and the flies will disappear, just like that.  We will have even fewer flies than we did before, the number of flies will plummet, just as Pharaoh Ramses has promised!


QUESTIONER THREE:  How does the Pharaoh respond to the Scholars of the Library of Alexandria who point out that other nations in our region, such as Nubia, Libya, or Sheba, have not had anything remotely similar to our plagues, and that the concentration of plagues in Egypt is evidence they arise out of the war of choice that Pharaoh has waged on The Lord of Hosts?


MS SNAKE:  The idea that these plagues come from some unseen and likely imaginary Lord of Hosts is an insult to the intelligence of the Egyptian people.  As Pharaoh has said, they should call him The Lord of Hoax.  Look at the evidence that Pharaoh Ramses has had great success managing the plagues--more people have survived plagues in Egypt than in any other country! 


QUESTIONER THREE:  A follow-up: How does Pharaoh Ramses feel about the disproportionate incidence of lice, flies, and boils among the Hebrew slaves? 


MS. SNAKE:  With regard to the Hebrew slaves, let me point out the Hebrew slaves choose to live in filth and squalor and make other poor hygiene and diet choices that leave them susceptible to these various ailments, be they boils or vermin or flies.  Moreover, the Hebrew slaves are doing essential work constructing the Pyramids, and the Hebrew slaves want to complete the Pyramids, which are so important to Egypt.  And that is why Pharaoh Ramses enjoys a record level of support among the Hebrew slaves.


QUESTIONER FOUR:  On the pyramids, how do you respond to the critics who say Pharaoh Ramses is by-passing the review process while building these gigantic pyramids, relying on approvals from puppet committees?


MS. SNAKE:  I can assure you the Pyramids will be built and that people will think of Pharaoh Ramses every time they see them.


QUESTIONER FIVE:  With the plagues being visited upon us, the Egyptian economy is collapsing.  What is Pharaoh Ramses’ plan for bringing the economy back?  And will he continue to impose imposts on imports of grain from Mesopotamia?


MS. SNAKE:  Remember that our stockpiles of grain were depleted by the previous Pharaoh, Seti I, or as Pharaoh calls him, Sleepy Seti I. 


QUESTIONER FIVE:  But Seti I built up the stockpiles in the first place.


MS. SNAKE:  And then drew them down, demonstrating his senility and confusion. 


QUESTIONER SIX:  Are we any closer to a cure of these plagues?


MS. SNAKE:  Our Scholars at the Libraries of Alexandria are working day and night to produce a combination of herbs, incantations, and sacrifices to Isis that will prevent people from catching the plagues.  Until then, Pharaoh Ramses believes what many priests are saying--that a regular program of prophylactic scorpion stings and snake bites will help people avoid catching the plagues.


QUESTIONER SIX:  But isn’t it true that scorpion stings and snake bites kill large numbers of their victims?  Most scholars dispute the idea --


MS. SNAKE:  Let me answer by disclosing to you that Pharaoh Ramses has personally been stung by scorpions and bitten by snakes under the care of his own personal healer, Arm Man Snake Wavy Lines Bird, and has shown no signs of side effects other than a tendency to wander in his public pronouncements and pay inordinate attention to people’s backsides.  More importantly, he is yet to experience any of the plagues. 


QUESTIONER SIX:  But isn’t the rejection of offerings associated with Pharoah Ramses a clear repudiation of his war of choice against The Lord of Hosts and his management of the plagues?


MS. SNAKE:  Nonsense.  Your question is the kind of divisive fakery that—


A messenger enters and gives a scroll to Ms. Snake, which she opens and reads.


MS. SNAKE:  I have just been informed Pharaoh and many of his viziers, high priests, and courtiers have been infested with lice, boils, and vermin.  Pharaoh’s Royal Wife, lesser wives, and concubines are quarantining themselves in the Palace while Pharaoh is being moved to the Temple of Osiris for observation.  The Pharaoh feels fine, and I know the people of Egypt are praying for – wait!  There are lice on my arm!  And boils!   


Here the hieroglyphic evidence ends.

Not many people know that on the day after Halloween, all the ghosts gather at the historic Overlook Hotel, where Jack Torrance went from psychotic, failed author to ghostly, tuxedoed dinner guest in The Shining.  It’s their favorite go-to.

“

I want to welcome you all!” Jack said as the spirits filled the hotel’s magnificent ballroom.  “And as we say here, ‘Redrum!  Redrum!’”


There was amused laughter all around.  “Boo!” someone called merrily.


“The bar is open!” Jack said.  “Remember, all work and no play makes Jack a dull boy!”


“I’ll have a soda pop,” said Casper, the Friendly Ghost.


Most everyone rolled their eyes at the little spirit.  “Well, I need a drink,” said Beetlejuice.  “Bourbon!  Bourbon!  Bourbon!”  A drink suddenly appeared in his hand.


“Just happy to be here,” replied Hamlet’s Dad.  “You know, it’s so refreshing to do some broad haunting.  The fear-induced bed-wetting, the candy-fueled stomach cramps, they’re much more fun than appearing on ramparts, trying to get two losers on night watch to avenge your death.”


“It was a great holiday,” said Dr. Malcolm Crowe, the psychologist from The Sixth Sense.  “I’m really into it, now that I’ve figured out I’m dead.”


“Sure, we had a good night,” said Captain Gregg from The Ghost and Mrs. Muir.  “But we’ve got to face the challenges.  There are things that scare people more than we do.”


The Ghost of Christmas yet to come said nothing, but pointed a bony, wraith-like finger at him in agreement.


“The Captain makes a good point,” said Elvira.  “I was once the lead character in a Noel Coward play, Blithe Spirit it was, and now I’m a cardboard pop-up display for undrinkable light beer.  It’s a long way to fall.”


“We don’t drink that lousy beer,” said George and Marion Kerby, holding martini glasses as they floated near a corner of the ceiling.  “We only drink gin.  Topper’s gin, in fact.  Thank heavens he stocks Sapphire.  Although his Virunga Mountain Spirits vodka isn’t that bad.”


“And I picked up this guy at a dance, and then I ghosted him—” there were groans at the pun “—and all he did was go to the graveyard to get his sweater back,” said Laurie, from the ‘60s radio classic Strange Things Happen in This World.


“It’s the zombies,” muttered Virgil bitterly.  “When I was escorting Dante through the levels of hell, did I stop to eat someone’s brains?  Hell no, so to speak.  I mean, you’re dead, why don’t you act that way?  They don’t even have enough class to be ethereal.”


“Absolutely,” said Quint and Miss Jessel from The Turn of the Screw.  “But there’s one place we can go that zombies can’t—a haunted house.  You can board up the doors and windows and grab a shotgun to stop the zombies, but it won’t stop us.  Mysterious pounding in the walls, inexplicable cold spots in the hallways.  They don’t know whether to call an exorcist or the HVAC guy!  But now the most frightening thing about a house is mortgage rates.” 


“That and radon,” the Amityville Horror said.  “It gives me gas.”


“Houses are fine, but for true thrills—haunting a TV set.  That’s the best!” exclaimed the Poltergeist.


There was disagreement.  “That worked back in your day,” said Dr. Crowe.  “But with HD and 4K flat screens, those nebulous images that could be any one of us are harder to hide.  I had a 14-year-old patient who used AI to bring a screenshot of a vaporous being making chilling noises into focus, and it turned out to be a 1-800 Kars for Kids commercial.”


There were tiny shrieks.


“Maybe we should think about other appliances,” said the Amityville Horror.  “Perhaps haunting a refrigerator so it turns vegetables into limp, moldy muck.  Or haunting a clothes dryer so it only produces one sock.”


“Boo!” someone said in agreement. 


Their conversation was interrupted by a fearful scratching on the window.  “What the—” said Jacob Marley, before breaking into a smile and rattling his chains in delight when he saw who it was.  “Catherine Earnshaw!” he said with a laugh.  “How are things on the moor, hon?”


Catherine Earnshaw floated through the wall.  “Anybody seen Heathcliff?” she asked.


“He went that-a-way,” said one of the Ghost Riders in the Sky.


Meanwhile, Banquo sat in a dark corner.  He had held his tongue but could bear it no longer.  “All this focus on scaring little children is what’s wrong with our profession today,” he said. 

“Everything scares kids—zombies, vampires, monsters under the bed, long division.  I wasn’t interested in scaring children.  That’s punching down.  I wanted to scare Macbeth, and I did a pretty good job of it, too.  I just sat there and nobody noticed me except him.  When a ghost gets a politician to shout unintelligible things into the air, he’s had a good day.” 


“Well, that or a political rally,” Elvira said.


“Hey!  No politics, we agreed,” Jack Torrance said.


“I agree with Banquo,” said Hamlet’s Dad.  “Where is the moral mission?  Where are the lessons learned from a life of sin?  Where’s the torment?  I remember when a ghost used to have the moral high ground.”


“All you did was try to avenge your murder,” scoffed the ghosts who haunted Lincoln in the Bardo.  “That’s not the moral high ground—that’s just holding a grudge.”


The Ghost of Christmas yet to come said nothing, but instead pointed a bony, wraith-like finger at an empty coffee urn.  A waiter brought in a new one.


“But when did scaring people become our only goal in the afterlife?”  Virgil said.  “I wasn’t there to scare Dante, I was there to show him around the underworld, right down to the ninth level.  Although that was before Satan created a tenth for  misinformation promoters and

crypto executives.”


“We agree,” said George and Marion Kerby.  “We weren’t there to scare Topper.  He was more frightened of a downturn in the market than of us.  It was cute.”


“What blather!” Marley exclaimed.  “An adorable capitalist in need of relaxation and a cocktail?  Take it from me—I straightened Scrooge’s ass out!  Do you think Musk and Ellison and Bezos need a cocktail party, or a swift kick?  If it were up to me, I’d do them the way I was done--cover them all in heavy chains, wrap bandages around their heads, and condemn them to wander the Earth in search of salvation.  And that would be before they died!”


The Ghost of Christmas yet to come said nothing, but instead pointed a bony, wraith-like finger to the expiration date on a yogurt container at the buffet. 


And so, the argument raged on.  Were ghosts supposed to scare children, like the Amityville Horror, or Quint and Miss Jessel from The Turn of the Screw?  Or were they supposed to deliver a moral lesson, as did Jacob Marley or the Ghost of Christmas yet to come?  Or were they supposed to afflict the comfortable, as did Banquo?  Or were they supposed to enjoy themselves, as Casper, or the Kerbys did?


It was then that a tall, black-clad figure rose in the back of the room.  They all turned to him.  He was the big man, the head honcho, the O.G., the venerable leader to whom they all deferred.  He swung his black cape off his shoulder to reveal a glowing pumpkin head under his arm.


“Look, I frightened Ichabod Crane so badly he’s still failing physicals,” said The Headless Horseman’s illuminated pumpkin head.  “But frightening little children can be a good thing.  Because when a child is frightened, that little boy or girl learns to overcome that fear.  It’s part of growing up.  It’s fine to point out the moral shortcomings of the haunted, or to help the haunted find love or a cocktail.  But our job is to help children grow, and to lose their fear of things that go bump in the night.  Can we all agree on that?”


The Ghost of Christmas yet to come raised a bony, wraith-like thumbs up.


“Boo!” they all said merrily. 


And so, it was unanimous.


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