Wednesday, October 7th, 2026

Sat under Fox News lighting tonight and told Bret Baier we will beat China to the moon. Humans on the surface in 2028. A sustainable base, not a visit... "it won't just be a mission and leave." I have said that sentence about every city I have ever entered.

Then I said the quiet part out loud: "They think I'm crazy." The engineers do. For once the herd's instinct is correct and mine is the broken one. The moon is the only territory I have ever wanted that has no one on it to drain.

Twenty-eight billion of my own money into Blue Origin since 2000. In my species we call that bleeding into the soil and hoping it grows a herd.

Bret asked about the IPO. "Someday. Several years from now." Several years is a nap. Someday is how I say Thursday. A public company is a body that lets strangers hold its blood in a brokerage account and call the arrangement liquidity... I have never been more interested in anything.

The makeup woman powdered my forehead and said, "You're a little cool to the touch, hon," the way you tell someone their collar is crooked. She did not run. She did not call anyone. She reached for a warmer shade.

December, Dave reflights New Glenn off the pad he rebuilt sideways. 2028, the moon: no vessels, no councils, just rock and my own voice saying Day 1 to nothing. Satiation is stagnation. But the moon... the moon is a diet.