At first glance, longevity fanatics might look like a homogenous group of wealthy, white men. But after 25 years in the field, the self-proclaimed “father of biohacking” says there are two distinct camps.
“There’s one group of people who are abhorrent of death … and there’s another group that are seeking a vibrant, long life for as long as they want,” Dave Asprey told The Post. “The energetics are very different.”
Asprey singled out Silicon Valley mogul Bryan Johnson — notorious for his extreme, costly anti-aging crusade — as a key figure in the “anti-death” club. And he warned that’s not the side you want to be on.
Asprey, an author and entrepreneur, plans to live to at least 180 thanks to his biohacking techniques.
At 51, he’s already invested more than $2 million in technologies and treatments aimed at extending his life while boosting his health, intelligence and vitality.
The “Bulletproof Coffee” founder’s regimen includes shelling out a staggering $3,000 a month on supplements, soaking in infrared light and spending hours in a hyperbaric oxygen chamber. He’s also experimented with some wild techniques, like injecting stem cells into his reproductive organs and zapping his penis for stronger erections.
Asprey began his biohacking journey more than two decades ago, igniting a movement of like-minded individuals equally obsessed with extending their lifespans.
In recent years, Johnson has emerged as one of the most prominent longevity fanatics, spending around $2 million annually in his relentless pursuit to reverse the aging process.
In a recent Netflix documentary, the 47-year-old tech tycoon-turned-longevity zealot said his rigorous regimen has him aging slower than the average person — he claims every year, he only gets eight months older.
Johnson has made headlines with his jaw-dropping, often controversial methods, like swallowing over 100 supplements a day, eating his last meal before noon and even injecting his son’s plasma into his own veins.
There seems to be no boundary to what he’ll try — all, supposedly, “on behalf of all humanity.”
“I think Bryan is doing a service by helping all of us see that we can live longer than we think we can,” Asprey said. “We need those outliers who are going to do things that most of us never will.”
But Johnson’s ultimate goal? In his own words: “Don’t die.”
That’s where Asprey said he’s gone off-track.
“I hope that over time, Bryan realizes that trying to cheat death only makes death stronger,” he said.
Instead, Asprey believes longevity seekers should focus on striving toward something, not just battling the Grim Reaper (or, in Johnson’s case, dancing shirtless with the hooded, scythe-wielding skeleton at his $349-a-ticket Don’t Die Summit).
“Working for the most conscious, vibrant life of service you can have — so that you can enjoy the age of youth and the wisdom of age — is the path to a more conscious, happier people and a greater society,” Asprey said.
As for the father of biohacking himself, Asprey said he’s “not interested in fighting death.”
“I am totally happy to die at a time and by a method of my choosing,” he said. “Just a different vibe.”
Johnson did not respond to The Post’s request for comment.