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I bought $250,000 worth of Kabuto Cards. No, that's not a typo. That’s roughly 100,000 slabs of pristine, mint-condition Kabuto cardboard. Five monster-sized vault boxes of fossil-era crustaceans stacked like a TCG Fort Knox. An asset the Pokémon market literally can’t print again, no matter how hot demand gets. Most people would call it insanity. But let me explain the thesis. Each card costs about $300 today. But over the past 30 years, the price of vintage Pokémon singles has outpaced CPI, the dollar, and even tech stocks, with select cards up hundreds or thousands of percent since the late '90s. Meanwhile, supply isn’t just fixed, it’s shrinking. Cards get lost. Damaged. Graded. Hoarded. Destroyed by younger siblings. It’s only a matter of time before nostalgia spikes again, print runs shrink further, and the next generation of collectors realizes the original era is permanently capped. So what happens when the world’s most recognizable franchise collides with absolute scarcity? Those holding the OG fossils, the real cardboard, will watch as prices melt upward and the market scrambles for anything with a vintage stamp. Just like rare comics, but with more cultural relevance and a more global collector base. My $250,000 position, therefore, isn’t a “hoard.” It’s an asymmetrical bet that childhood nostalgia compounds, supply keeps tightening, and the Kabuto floor keeps grinding upward. Worst case? I'm long $250,000 of the most iconic trading card franchise on earth. Physical collectibles with global demand, zero counterparty risk, and a fanbase that refuses to age out. Best case? Prices triple, grading bottlenecks squeeze supply even harder, or Pokémon declares the Fossil set a heritage artifact, making legacy Kabuto cards finite, coveted, and priceless to the obsessed and the opportunistic alike. It’s not crypto. It’s not equities. It’s not even holographic. It’s 100,000 tiny fossils of cultural memory, a hedge against inflation, reprints, and the death of childhood itself. That’s deep value. That’s the Kabuto Standard.