Last night 220 of the top holders of the $Trump memecoin were invited to attend a special event with the president. Bloomberg’s Zeke Faux, who’s written about cryptocurrencies’ rise and fall, was there for the arrivals. Plus: The latest edition of the Everybody’s Business podcast, and 10 books that should be on your summer reading list. If this email was forwarded to you, click here to sign up. Programming note: The Businessweek Daily will be off for Memorial Day. See you Tuesday. On a drizzly Thursday evening, President Donald Trump left the White House, saluted a waiting Marine, climbed into his presidential helicopter and took off for his golf club in Sterling, Virginia, for a dinner with wealthy crypto investors. This wasn’t a political fundraiser. It was a reward for the biggest buyers of Trump’s memecoin, which he launched just before his inauguration. Like other memecoins, Trump’s didn’t purport to be some kind of financial innovation or do anything at all, other than serve as a vehicle for speculation. Nonetheless, it has made about $300 million in real profits for him and the others behind it, according to the crypto research firm Chainalysis. Some of the dinner’s attendees had bought more than $10 million worth. Unsurprisingly, a US president having a side hustle in what is at best an unregulated gambling market has proved controversial. The price of Trump’s memecoin spiked immediately after its launch but then crashed about 80%, and so the dinner seemed like an effort to gin up interest from people who wanted to get close to him. At a White House news conference earlier in the day, Press Secretary Karoline Leavitt denied that was the case. “It’s absurd for anyone to insinuate that this president is profiting off of the presidency,” she protested. I decided to see for myself. Press weren’t invited to the dinner, leaving me to stand outside in the rain where 100 or so protesters had gathered, carrying signs that said things like “Stop the crypto corruption.” Unfortunately for the attendees who’d paid to come, the security procedures meant that most of them had to get out of their cars at the bottom of the golf club’s driveway, giving the crowd a chance to taunt them. Dinner guests arrive at the Trump National Golf Club in Virginia on Thursday. Photographer: Alex Wong/Getty Images “What’s for dinner, asshole?” screamed a 60-year-old who works at a nonprofit that helps the homeless as two men in tuxedos walked in. From across the street, a retired librarian pointed her finger and chanted, “Shame, shame, shame.” Many attendees posted pictures of the event on social media. Among those inside were Jack Lu, the co-founder of an NFT trading site called Magic Eden, and Jeffrey Zirlin, part of the team behind the crypto game Axie Infinity. The game was popular in the Philippines before the price of its in-game cryptocurrency—which had the bizarre name of Smooth Love Potion—crashed. Some seemed to be trying to draft off the attention generated by the Trump coin to promote themselves. After walking into the dinner, Lamar Odom, a retired NBA star, posted on Telegram to pitch his own memecoin: $odom. “Think about it—what meme coin has ever done this,” he wrote. Inside, the attendees ate filet mignon and pan-seared halibut. The top buyers were presented with Trump-branded watches. The president delivered a brief and rambling speech, according to videos on social media, in which he complained about the “radical left” and “the whole autopen thing” and recounted all he’d already done for the crypto industry, which to be fair, was quite a lot—from having the Securities and Exchange Commission drop lawsuits against the biggest players, to signing an executive order to establish a strategic Bitcoin reserve. “You believe in the whole crypto thing,” Trump said. “A lot of people are starting to believe in it.” After staying for just over an hour, the president climbed back into his helicopter and took off. Some attendees later told me they were disappointed Trump didn’t mingle more. A 27-year-old consultant, who’d spent more than $100,000 on Trump coins, told me no one spoke with him one-on-one. The price of Trump’s memecoin declined a bit afterward. But no one seemed too worked up about the price. The president and his family have several other crypto ventures. (My colleagues Max Abelson and Annie Massa wrote an excellent piece breaking down all of them on Wednesday.) And the attendees I spoke with said they thought Trump’s deregulation meant the industry’s future was bright. On the sidewalk nearby, I came across five middle-school boys, who said they’d happened on the scene while on their way to take advantage of the rain to slide down a nearby hill. They told me they traded memecoins too. Laughing, a 13-year-old with a wispy mustache recommended one called “Yo gurt.” (The joke is that the word “yogurt” sounds like someone saying “yo” to someone named “Gurt.”) I asked them how they got the money to trade. “We steal our parents’ credit cards,” a 12-year-old with a mop of blond hair joked. |