"Pokémon means much more than a Picasso to people."
That sentence was said without a shred of irony by AJ Scaramucci — yes, son of Anthony Scaramucci, the guy who lasted 11 days as White House Communications Director — to justify why he paid $16.5 million for a Pokémon card.
Sixteen and a half million dollars. For a piece of paper with a Pikachu drawn on it.
Take a breath. Let's dissect this.
The circus tent goes up
Logan Paul — influencer, WWE wrestler, professional hype salesman — bought the "Pikachu Illustrator" card in 2021 for $5.3 million. He just sold it for $16.5 million. A return of over 200%.
CNBC put that side by side with the S&P 500 (+15.2% for the year) and Alphabet (+73.4%), as if comparing a one-of-a-kind auction item with market indices made any logical sense. It's like comparing the price of a kidney on the black market with a Treasury yield. Technically they're both "returns," but come on, is it really the same thing?
The card is from 1998. Only a few dozen exist worldwide. Is it rare? Absolutely. Beautiful? Matter of taste. An investment? That's where things get messy.
The seduction of the "alternative asset"
AJ Scaramucci, founder of Solari Capital, says he's on a "planetary treasure hunt" — he wants to collect scarce assets across multiple categories alongside his younger brother. Sounds like the plot of a Nicolas Cage movie. He argues that Pokémon cards are a way to play the "debasement trade" — the thesis that, with governments debasing currencies, you need real, tangible assets.
So far, the logic is old as dirt. Gold, real estate, land, fine art — serious people have used these things as hedges for centuries. But a Pokémon card is not gold. Gold doesn't depend on a Goldin Auctions sale (which is owned by eBay, by the way) to figure out what it's worth. Gold doesn't need the next generation to keep thinking Pikachu is relevant.
Ken Goldin, CEO of the auction house that brokered the sale, said "people firmly believe that trading cards are a legitimate alternative asset class." Of course he said that. He earns a commission on every sale. It's like asking your barber if you need a haircut.
Nassim Taleb would call this an inverted lack of skin in the game: the ones who profit most from the narrative that collectibles are investments are the middlemen, not the collectors.
What the adults in the room are saying
Paul Karger, from TwinFocus, a firm that advises wealthy families, was diplomatic but surgical: "Think of it as passion first and investment second. It's not a substitute for financial assets."
And he pointed out the elephant in the room: illiquidity. You can't sell a $16 million Pokémon card on your brokerage app at 10 a.m. You need an auction, a willing buyer, a hot market. If the hype cools — and hype always cools — you're stuck with an expensive piece of paper in a climate-controlled drawer.
Brighton Jones's Kaycee LeCong herself reminded us that capital gains on collectibles are taxed differently (and usually worse) than traditional investments. A detail that enthusiasts conveniently forget.
The index nobody audits
Card Ladder, an analytics firm, says the "Pokémon index" rose 145% over the past year. Monthly secondary sales volume nearly doubled in two years. eBay's CEO confirmed that collectibles were the biggest GMV growth driver in Q4.
Pretty numbers. But remember the NFT bubble? In 2021, the tokenized JPEG market also had "indices" climbing 300%, 500%. Today, 95% of that stuff is worth zero. Collectible markets have no auditable fundamentals. There's no cash flow, no earnings per share, no dividend. The price is literally whatever the next fool is willing to pay.
This isn't investing. This is the Greater Fool Theory dressed up in '90s nostalgia.
The question that matters
Look, if you're rich, you love Pokémon, and you want to blow $16 million on a rare card — go for it. It's your money, it's your life. Buffett himself collects Coca-Cola stock out of love for the brand.
But if you're looking at this and thinking "maybe I should put my emergency fund into Pokémon cards because the returns beat the S&P"... for the love of God, sit down, have a cup of coffee, and reread Benjamin Graham.
Collectibles are a rich person's hobby. When they become an "investment strategy" for the middle class, someone's about to be left holding the bag.
And it's usually not the one who sold the card.
