Epstein Files’ Most Damning Revelation
Many of tech’s prominent names—Bill Gates, Elon Musk, Reid Hoffman, among others—have been previously linked to Epstein, so the newly public documents present a familiar type of discomfort. But the files also shed fresh light on other aspects of Epstein’s world, including his relationship with Masha Bucher, who acted as his publicist and as a guide to Silicon Valley startups in the years before she became a well-known venture capitalist. Our Jemima McEvoy scooped the details of Bucher’s presence in the Epstein files, and she has quickly followed up her news report with a Weekend piece that probes Bucher’s, uh, complicated rise.
Everything we continue to learn about the Epstein-verse paints an uncomfortable, unglorious picture of how the planet’s wealthiest and most powerful people conduct business and play. And while the files reveal—and reinforce—many ugly truths, I tried to mull over what might count as the most damning revelation. After some consideration, I decided it relates to a matter as incontrovertible as the pull of gravity: Great wealth can’t buy a person good taste. Rather, it provides an excuse to be a weird, picky eater.
I was reminded of this fact when I spied a memo from Peter Thiel’s former chief of staff buried in the Epstein files that gives a lengthy list of what Thiel wants to eat—and what he won’t eat.
When someone gets as wealthy as Thiel, they have a tendency to lean into their eccentricities and preferences, which is not always the most charming characteristic. And amusingly, the Thiels of the world are often completely OK with how their various preferences and ideas seem to conflict with each other. Thiel, for instance, apparently insists on avoiding mayonnaise. But he also specifies that he enjoys spicy tuna with avocado, which, of course, usually involves sriracha sauce and…mayonnaise. He’s the type of guy who insists he’s on a diet and then gets caught knuckle-deep in a can of frosting, fingers full of Funfetti.
Thiel avoids dairy, fruit, gluten and grains. Such abstinence makes me worried about his digestive system. If the Antichrist doesn’t actually show up soon, the venture capitalist might instead suffer an untimely death by constipation.
What we learned about Thiel’s diet is a small encapsulation of a broader truth about moguls and machers. Behind closed doors, they often act weird as hell. (Epstein understood that as people grow richer, they feel more entitled to indulge in whatever weirdness they can imagine, and he catered to their behavior.) Occasionally, we get glimpses of just how weird they can be, which they dislike. That’s because we generally spend our time lionizing these people, and they’ve come to expect and covet such adoration.
And I think “weird” is the most generous characterization I can muster for why anyone would’ve deigned to stand within nine feet of Jeffrey Epstein. No recipe for mayo-less spicy tuna could’ve been worth it.