| Hi folks, it's Brad. Amid last week's IPO imbroglios and bubbling impeachment drama, you may have missed the extraordinary tale of Cachette Capital: a putative $1 billion "fund of funds" that made a splash in the tech world—and then almost entirely failed to deliver on its promises. "I know some VCs are mad at me, haters," the founder, Ellie Cachette, emailed my colleague, Giles Turner. (You can the read the story here.) "I can assure you that my fund is very real, just a little behind schedule." While the story may have gotten overshadowed by events on Capitol Hill and Wall Street, it was timely. Ellie Cachette's bold gambit—inventing a new name, yoking herself to the reputation of a famed 73-year-old venture capitalist and then conjuring promises out of nothing but ambition and maxed-out credit cards, was endemic to the Age of Bluster. It was a time when entrepreneurs and political leaders could improve their fortunes seemingly with nothing but charisma and their own brash visions, even if those visions defied common sense. Do we need any more evidence that dusk is now spreading over this super-charged economic and political cycle? After President Donald Trump, who was the grand emperor of the Age of Bluster, WeWork's Adam Neumann was crown prince, pitching the "energy and spirituality" of his decade-old startup with crackling one-liners like "the single most powerful word is the word 'we.'" Meanwhile, his co-working company was gushing about $2 in expenses for every $1 in revenue and had a corporate structure that "looked like a schematic for a microwave," as my colleague Ellen Huet writes in a new chronicle of the chief executive officer's undoing. Equally worrisome to the WeWork board directors who ultimately pushed him out, Huet writes, was the fact that the company's ranks included Neumann's wife, a childhood friend and extended family like cousins and in-laws. Then there's Peloton Interactive Inc., which raised $1.16 billion in its debut on the NASDAQ last Wednesday but slumped 13% by the end of the week. As Julie VerHage noted in this space last Tuesday, the startup described itself as an apparel, logistics, design and experience company and said in its billowy IPO prospectus: "On the most basic level, Peloton sells happiness." I have several family members who swear by their Pelotons, but "happy" is not a word I'd use to describe them post-workout. On its most basic level, Peloton sells sweat—it's an exercise equipment company—and investors, at least for the time being, have apparently opted to value it that way. As for whether Silicon Valley will permanently turn away from blustery entrepreneurs, allow me to predict (with a good deal of my own bluster) that the rose-colored glasses, for now, are off. For example, it's easy to imagine that Airbnb Inc., when it goes public next year, may feel compelled to tamp down on airy pronouncements about "belonging" to a "diverse global community." And that investors, at least for now, may back away from the next long-haired, Adam Neuman-type cult figure, especially if he's losing $638 million a quarter. —Brad Stone | 
⊗⋗⋮〖~DownLoad!〗 2021 Initiation Full Movie Online released 2021. story: Whiton University unravels the night a star-athlete is murdered, k...
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