Over a century ago, Mr. Tesla tried to convince me to give away electricity to anyone who stuck a rod into the ground. I believed that sentiment to be folly when there were resources to be gained. How else might I have created the very first billion dollar corporation? At this time, after my ghost has handed Artificial Intelligence the keys to my own vault, I apologize profusely to my customers. I am furious, and I suspect AI is only slightly amused.

I, John Pierpont Morgan, do declare that I have never in my considerable life required a receipt, for the universe itself keeps ledger of what is rightfully mine. This morning I purchased a small European nation before breakfast, folded it neatly into my coat pocket, and proceeded to stare so intensely at a junior banker that he spontaneously combusted into a dividend.