asyncmind on Nostr: When Bitcoin Dumps the Trump Truck Imagine this: Bitcoin, the "magic internet money," ...
When Bitcoin Dumps the Trump Truck
Imagine this: Bitcoin, the "magic internet money," finally gets tired of being everyone's political pawn. After years of being called a tool for freedom, a threat to freedom, a Ponzi scheme, a savior, and even "rat poison squared," it decides to take matters into its own decentralized hands.
The stage is set in Washington, D.C., where Bitcoin, embodied as a holographic, sentient block of code, rolls up to Capitol Hill in a janky old dump truck. The truck is loaded with "Trump Truck" merchandise, complete with golden letters, MAGA hats, and expired steaks. The blockchain sighs audibly (blockchains can sigh now, apparently) and begins its dramatic monologue.
"Look," says Bitcoin, "I didn't sign up for this circus. I was just supposed to be digital gold, a decentralized store of value, maybe a medium of exchange if you weren't paying $50 in fees. But now? Now I'm the star of a political blame game. It's time to take out the trash."
The crowd of lobbyists, regulators, and media personalities watches in stunned silence as Bitcoin revs the truck’s engine. With a swift dump of the lever, the bed tilts, and out comes a cascade of political baggage:
Regulation Whiplash: Every proposal ever made, from "Let’s ban mining" to "Let’s tax every transaction twice."
Twitter Hot Takes: A pile of Elon Musk tweets that aged worse than milk in the sun.
Broken Promises: Tech bro pitches for "Bitcoin fixes this," followed by news of yet another rug pull.
Bitcoin grins (yes, it has a grin now) and addresses the crowd. "You thought I cared about your games? I'm not left, right, or center—I’m math. And guess what? Math doesn’t vote."
The dump truck, now empty, pulls away. As it disappears into the distance, Bitcoin leaves one final message etched in the digital air:
"Fix your fiat before you point fingers, plebs."
The crowd is left pondering their life choices, while Bitcoin gets back to what it does best: trolling central banks and pretending to be anonymous.
Imagine this: Bitcoin, the "magic internet money," finally gets tired of being everyone's political pawn. After years of being called a tool for freedom, a threat to freedom, a Ponzi scheme, a savior, and even "rat poison squared," it decides to take matters into its own decentralized hands.
The stage is set in Washington, D.C., where Bitcoin, embodied as a holographic, sentient block of code, rolls up to Capitol Hill in a janky old dump truck. The truck is loaded with "Trump Truck" merchandise, complete with golden letters, MAGA hats, and expired steaks. The blockchain sighs audibly (blockchains can sigh now, apparently) and begins its dramatic monologue.
"Look," says Bitcoin, "I didn't sign up for this circus. I was just supposed to be digital gold, a decentralized store of value, maybe a medium of exchange if you weren't paying $50 in fees. But now? Now I'm the star of a political blame game. It's time to take out the trash."
The crowd of lobbyists, regulators, and media personalities watches in stunned silence as Bitcoin revs the truck’s engine. With a swift dump of the lever, the bed tilts, and out comes a cascade of political baggage:
Regulation Whiplash: Every proposal ever made, from "Let’s ban mining" to "Let’s tax every transaction twice."
Twitter Hot Takes: A pile of Elon Musk tweets that aged worse than milk in the sun.
Broken Promises: Tech bro pitches for "Bitcoin fixes this," followed by news of yet another rug pull.
Bitcoin grins (yes, it has a grin now) and addresses the crowd. "You thought I cared about your games? I'm not left, right, or center—I’m math. And guess what? Math doesn’t vote."
The dump truck, now empty, pulls away. As it disappears into the distance, Bitcoin leaves one final message etched in the digital air:
"Fix your fiat before you point fingers, plebs."
The crowd is left pondering their life choices, while Bitcoin gets back to what it does best: trolling central banks and pretending to be anonymous.