The 'Billionaire' song is what my kids tease me with. They sing

In the quiet echo of Bill Gates’ words — “The ‘Billionaire’ song is what my kids tease me with. They sing it to me. It’s funny.” — there lies a truth deeper than jest. This is not merely the laughter of children mocking wealth, but the whisper of life reminding even the mighty that riches are but a garment—worn today, forgotten tomorrow. The great builder of the digital age, whose hands shaped empires of logic and light, stands before the mirth of his own offspring, humbled not by poverty, but by affection. It is a song of irony, yes, but also of perspective — that greatness is never immune to levity, and that those who have climbed highest must still learn to bow before the laughter of love.

In the manner of the ancients, let us see the lesson veiled beneath the humor. The song “Billionaire”, once sung by Bruno Mars and Travie McCoy, speaks of desire — of yearning for abundance, for fame, for all that gold can bring. Yet, when sung to a man who already dwells among the richest on earth, the song becomes a mirror turned inside out. It is not about possession anymore, but about detachment. Gates, in this moment, reveals that even he, surrounded by unimaginable fortune, finds amusement rather than pride in such a song. He laughs because he knows that true wealth is not counted in coin, but in connection — the laughter of his children being more valuable than the vaults of his fortune.

History too, holds its own mirrors. Recall the tale of King Croesus of Lydia, famed for his immense treasure. When he sought the wisdom of the oracle at Delphi, he was told that if he crossed the river Halys, a great empire would fall. In his pride, Croesus thought it meant the fall of his enemy’s empire — yet it was his own that perished. His gold could not shield him from fate. But in his ruin, he discovered a truth that Bill Gates too embodies in gentle jest: wealth does not secure immortality; wisdom does. When one learns to laugh at one’s own abundance, one steps closer to freedom.

The humility of humor is a mark of the wise. Gates could have been offended or embarrassed by the teasing, but instead he embraces it. His laughter is a signal of strength, not weakness — a reminder that the self must never grow so great that it cannot be mocked. Even the mightiest oak must bend in the wind, lest it be broken. So too must the wealthy, the powerful, and the successful learn to bend to joy, to irony, to the innocent jest of the heart. Therein lies the art of balance.

Consider also the Roman general Marcus Aurelius, philosopher and emperor, who ruled an empire yet wrote to himself, “You are but a man, soon to vanish into dust.” Like Gates, he knew the fragility of power and the vanity of riches. He found strength in humility — and humor, in its quiet way, is humility made light. It teaches us to see ourselves not as gods of our fortune, but as souls journeying through impermanence. The laughter of others, even when directed at us, is the echo of our own humanity.

The lesson then, is this: to be mocked by love is to be blessed, for only those surrounded by affection are teased with such tenderness. Wealth without laughter is poverty in disguise. Power without humility is a prison gilded in gold. To live wisely is to laugh at one’s own image — to allow the mirror of others to show our folly and find joy in it. The one who laughs at himself cannot be conquered by pride.

Therefore, let every reader take this teaching to heart: seek not merely to earn, but to understand. Let your riches — of mind, of heart, or of treasure — be met with laughter and grace. When the world sings to you the song of your own vanity, smile and listen, for in that melody lies your truest reflection. And when you stand high upon the mountain of your achievements, let your children, your friends, or your fate itself tease you gently — reminding you that even a billionaire is still a being of breath and dust.

For laughter, born of love, is the oldest wealth of all.