Major tech companies are investing in their own customers, creating a self-reinforcing loop of capital that inflates demand and valuations. This dangerous practice mirrors the vendor financing tactics of the dot-com era (e.g., Nortel), which led to a systemic collapse when external capital eventually dried up.

The concept of "Nihonjuron," the theory of Japanese uniqueness, was used to rationalize extreme asset valuations that defied Western financial logic. This cultural narrative created a national blind spot, allowing investors to believe that traditional fundamentals didn't apply to Japan's seemingly superior economic system.

For 30 years, Japanese firms retained profits instead of returning capital, accumulating huge cash and asset piles on their balance sheets. Now, the Tokyo Stock Exchange is pushing for buybacks and dividends, creating a powerful catalyst for value realization that is independent of new earnings generation.

The dot-com era's accounting fraud wasn't one-sided. Professional investors and Wall Street created a symbiotic relationship with executives by demanding impossibly smooth, predictable quarterly earnings. This intense pressure incentivized widespread financial engineering and manipulation to meet unrealistic expectations.

Enron convinced regulators to let it use "mark-to-market" accounting for illiquid assets like pipelines. This allowed them to book highly subjective, projected profits from long-term deals as immediate earnings, creating a facade of profitability that had no basis in actual cash flow.

Current AI investment patterns mirror the "round-tripping" seen in the late '90s tech bubble. For example, NVIDIA invests billions in a startup like OpenAI, which then uses that capital to purchase NVIDIA chips. This creates an illusion of demand and inflated valuations, masking the lack of real, external customer revenue.

Companies like NVIDIA invest billions in AI startups (e.g., OpenAI) with the understanding the money will be spent on their chips. This "round tripping" creates massive, artificial market cap growth but is incredibly fragile and reminiscent of the dot-com bubble's accounting tricks.

Bubbles provide cover for fraudulent activities, as rising prices mask underlying problems. In cases like the South Sea Company and Railway Mania, it wasn't until after the collapse that the full extent of financial engineering, corruption, and deception came to light, by which point it was too late for most investors.

In a telling sign of speculative excess, Japanese golf club memberships, valued for status, became a traded asset class. Banks offered 90% margin loans against membership certificates, turning a luxury good into a vehicle for stock market speculation and a bizarre indicator of the bubble's absurdity.