Billions! How This Column Got Started. But first . . . March 6, 2026March 5, 2026 $10 IF YOU CAN NAME THE SECRETARY OF LABOR How’s this for a 30-second ad? In the blue wave that’s coming, Talarico could beat Paxton or Cornyn in Texas. Alex Vindman could win Florida. Mary Peltola will win Alaska. Scott Colom could win Mississippi. Roy Cooper will win North Carolina. Sherrod Brown will win Ohio. We will win Maine. We will win Iowa. And who knows — Montana? All of these would be flips. And there could even be others. Or not — but I’m all in to help make it happen. (On the off chance you have $5,000 to do something very cool in New York April 13, me-mail me.) So, Musk is out, but only after having done so much damage . . . and now Kristi Noem is out, but only after having done so much damage . . . and soon Pam Bondi and Kash Patel . . . and eventually Trump . . . will be out, but only after . . . And these are just the high-profile disasters. RFK. Jr. is another. But they’re everywhere. E.g., the Secretary of Labor. Do you know her name? Of course not. Here is former Labor Secretary Robert Reich to fill you in. THE PEOPLE’S HOUSE Here reimagined, with a ballroom large enough to seat all 935 of the country’s billionaires (though not their spouses, so they’ll have room to invite only the rich ones). JOE RICKETTS AND THOSE BILLIONAIRES Welcome to Wyoming, the Frontier of America’s New Gilded Age: A New York Times analysis shows the stunning velocity at which the fortunes of the 1 percent have increased since President Trump first took office in 2017. Across the country, the 2017 tax cuts minted hundreds of new billionaires. The richest Americans saw their net worth soar 120 percent between 2017 and 2025, a colossal leap from the 45 percent growth they had seen over the previous nine years. Many if not most of those billionaires are generous, honorable people — commentators too frequently neglect to mention that — contributing greatly to our society. They should, however, all join the Patriotic Millionaires and lobby for higher tax rates . . . . . . because (a) it is the patriotic (and moral) thing to do; (b) inequality is killing our social compact; and (c) so long as all their peers are competing by the same rules (they tend to be a competitive bunch), the game will still be fun! Once you have your first billion, after all, yes, you definitely want more (this dirtbag billionaire being the rare exception); but the truth is, you and your heirs will get by just fine even if loopholes are closed and tax rates hiked. The Times begins its piece with the story of Joe Ricketts, which is actually how this column began. (Here was the very first one, 30 years ago.) Now worth $8 billion (nothing compared to my friend Steve Schwarzman, credited in the piece with $45 billion, but still), Joe called me from a modest hotel room in midtown (the Sheraton?) and asked me to come talk about writing a daily column for the on-line discount brokerage firm he was launching. He was in from Nebraska putting it all together. “I’m sorry, but I’m a journalist,” I said (or words to that effect), “and it would be perceived as an endorsement. Journalists don’t do that.” “I understand,” he said, “but you’re right up the street. Come for half an hour and hear me out. It’s room 614 [or whatever].” I came with a list of requirements I knew he couldn’t accept. When I got to the room, the door was purposely ajar — he was on the phone, smoking a cigarette (little did he know) — and waved for me to come sit. When it was my turn, I explained that if I did the daily post he envisioned, every one of them would have to begin with a disclaimer that I didn’t endorse his firm and was, indeed, a “buy and hold” kind of guy — exactly not the kind of active trader he would most like to attract. To my surprise, he agreed. And agreed I could write about anything I wanted . . . that my columns would not be edited . . . that they could be as long or as short as I wanted (“Even just, ‘Neither a borrower nor a lender be’?” I asked him. “Fine,” he said.) And a couple of other things, the only one of which he couldn’t accept was the preposterous daily fee I tossed out. “I can do half that much,” he said, which was still kind of crazy — and was what made me realize that he wasn’t paying for my work, he was paying for my photo in all the ads he planned to run the month of the launch. He really only needed me for a month! So in a rare moment of clarity I added a final requirement: that the contract be for three years. He agreed to that, too, and to his considerable credit honored the contract to the letter. Ameritrade (as it came to be called) — now Schwab — launched nicely; customers (of whom I remain one) saved fortunes on commissions and got good service; and for three years I wrote about everything from ATM’s (that very first post) to gay and lesbian equality (as it was then known) to lord knows what. As the three years were coming to a close, we agreed it would be insane for them to extend it, so I asked whether I could start my own little website (this one) and tell my readers where to find me. They graciously agreed, and I have been annoying you all ever since. (Interestingly, when I was being showered with cash, I didn’t always love the work — because it was work. Once I was doing it because I wanted to, not because I had to, I found myself putting in more effort and enjoying it more. Funny how that goes.) Anyway: Thanks, Joe Ricketts, for launching this column, and for providing great value and service to so many investors. But you really should knock everyone’s socks off and join the Patriotic Millionaires. That would be extraordinary. Same for you, Steve. Read Welcome to Wyoming. It just might persuade you.