Epstein can find himself echoing aspects of Thomas Piketty on the inequities of the accumulation of wealth (“the divide is between people with assets, which appreciate, and people without assets, who fail to advance—that is, of course, the miracle of compounded interest”), except for the fact that Epstein, knowing the rich, understands a point that Piketty doesn’t: “Nobody, nobody, wants to give it all to their children. Everybody now has the modern appreciation that one of the curses of great wealth is that it can make your kids weird and fucked up.” Epstein’s position in this private allotment of a decent fraction of the U.S. Gross Domestic Product is not as a philanthropist but as a sort of adviser or guru or brain—a rich whisperer—making him, in addition to rich himself, arguably among the most influential people you’ve only heard of for reasons that have nothing to do with his influence. Epstein sometimes seems to have an out-of-body attitude toward his own fate and bad press—that’s something that occurs in a less interesting parallel world. Not long ago, when I met him for lunch in New York, he noted that he hadn’t been out to lunch in a restaurant in ten years. It was a not particularly pleasant experience for him and we were done in 30 minutes. On the other hand, Epstein’s life sometimes seems part of a purposeful challenge: not just look at me, but do you even believe what you see? But, perhaps, he is HOUSE_OVERSIGHT_024233