"Not all treasure is silver and gold, mate." - Captain Jack Sparrow

I am starting an "UNPOPULAR OPINION" thread. I suspect, however, that these opinions will find more allies here on NOSTR than on other media. #unpopularopinion

Just watched One Love with the wife. Very much a hagiography, barely a passing mention of his infidelities and absolutely no references to CIA skullduggery in Jamaica. But really good nonetheless. If you like the meaning to your music, you'll like this film.

Tin Cup Chalice is objectively the best.

18005467777 If you had that drilled into your head on the school bus, we should be friends.

Onna wheelay, onna wissitonna weyeah, enni cownan-assay, nannawow-assay, enni collow a ewaii.

Spin it Let's begin it Bear 'n grin it When you're in it You can win it In a minute When you spin it, spin it, spin it!

At this point I'm not sure if the Bitcoin ETFs are meant to distract plebs from the Epstein file drops or if the Epstein file drops are meant to distract Anons from the Bitcoin ETFs.

Trim your feeble lamp, my brother. https://image.nostr.build/365ec2d90277c572794677be06b384646a24b00c5652dadb1759762e9afe9014.jpg#m=image%2Fjpeg&dim=1500x1237&blurhash=%2398z.F-%3D9bV%3Fj%3FWEWBWWod_N%25NbIRkjZWXWVs.WCM%7BfQxut7WXoLt6WXWCD%25V%40ozt7s%3AoJj%5BR%2Bof9Gn%24%251R-ayayWCs%2Cj%5BM%7BRjn%7EjYRkoLoeR*j%3FNGRQWAaet7ogR*oJj%3F&x=b84ab3250acb2e6b4630df917b8f246a1c66f64a009c04735b819a0ce0a4bddd

Santa brought surf boards.

I can hear this gif.

I have become convinced that "merchant acceptance" is the wrong goal. "Merchant demand" should be the focus.

Really? The opening paragraph on the opening article on the opening issue of Cashapp's new "zine" is this? This is how you kick off a new marketing initiative? You cannot fight toxicity with toxicity. Only love works. Love for the "toxic" maxies and love for the "toxicity" itself. Honor the defensive, protective role or plays, then proceed with light. @jack and @Cash App need to take a cue from Jeff Booth.

Looking at the course of history, it's clear that governments have a tendency to stretch their power beyond set boundaries, often bypassing checks and balances until people are left with no choice but to resist, at times even through violent means. If we're choosing to live in a society where the state is seen as legitimate, it's crucial to remain vigilant and ready to counter any government overreach. But there's a bigger picture here. The morally consistent approach is to work tirelessly towards shifting society's tolerance for the existence of a state at all. It's about questioning the very foundation of state power and its legitimacy. We need to engage in a deeper conversation about the role of the state and strive for a society where individual freedoms are not just protected from government overreach but are the central pillars of our social structure. Bitcoin accelerates that shift.

I'm thankful that we will finally be able to separate the problems of fiat from the problems of the human condition. Bitcoin won't fix everything. But it will fix everythting fiat broke. The human condition will still be ripe with problems that man can only fix on the inside. But in peak fiat, it has been nearly impossible for good men to discern between the two.

It just occurred to me how short a period in the long history of mankind that the photograph was valuable for the sake of communicating truth to others. Moving forward it will only serve to capture and communicate truth to ourselves... As a memory aid to experiences we had.

I say it every holiday season: Yukon Cornelius is the single most under-explored character in ALL of animation. Writing a spinoff series would be SOOOO much fun.

The Fifth of November is coming... The central bankers’ cabal casts their catastrophic currency, conjuring cash from the chaotic chasm of corruption. But we—brethren bonded by Bitcoin—are the bulwark against this barrage. Their paper-thin promises perish, pitifully powerless against the purifying fire of our fervor. Their ledger is a lie, a lamentable legacy of loss — but we herald the hardline of honest, hardened currency. We spit upon their spurious spools of spun fiat, a sickening spectacle of the state’s sanctioned theft. With the voracity of a vengeful Valkyrie, we vow victory over their vacuous venture. Our creed carves through their crumbling creed with the clarity of cryptographic certainty. Behold, as we brandish Bitcoin, not merely as currency, but as the crushing cudgel of economic emancipation. We pledge not to the putrid paradigm of paper, but to the pristine paradigm of peer-to-peer power. This is not mere defiance, this is a declaration of digital dominance. The bell tolls not for us, but for them, as we marshal this monetary mutiny with the might of miners and the valor of HODLers. Stand thunderous, stand triumphant, A vanguard of the virtuous, a nemesis to the nefarious.

Bitcoin ETF buyers aren't betting on Bitcoin. They are betting on Bitcoiners.

My name is John, and I used to be free. They called it the "Unified System," a streamlined way to link your finances, your health records, your education—everything—into one integrated network. All facilitated by the State, of course. It was supposed to make life easier, they said. And people bought into it. I should've known better. With every dollar digitized, every byte of data stored, I felt the State's noose tighten around my neck. Cash became obsolete. Anonymity, a myth. A sense of dread settled in, but it was too late; we had all been seamlessly, irrevocably woven into the System. I didn't play along, at least not willingly. I became an outcast, a ghost in a world monitored by algorithms. But even ghosts can't escape surveillance. One day, the System flagged me for "Erratic Financial Behavior" because I was trying to use a small fraction of my digital money to buy physical goods, old books mostly. Silly, I know, but old books weren't monitored, they didn't collect data.Then came the "Verification Checks." Random cuts from my digital wallet, unexplained and irreversible. A fraction here, a fraction there—until I had nothing left. No money meant no access to basic services. I couldn't buy food, couldn't pay rent. My social credit plummeted. I became a non-person, shunned by society, an anathema. Friends, neighbors, even family, they all disowned me, lest they be flagged by association. I tried to rebel, to expose the System for what it was—a sophisticated apparatus for social control. I had evidence, data trails, patterns. But when I tried to leak it, my digital footprint was erased, wiped clean like I never existed. As I sit here, in a tiny cell, writing on the last pieces of physical paper I could find, I understand the grim reality. The State didn't just control money and data; it controlled life itself. Just when I thought things couldn't get worse, I heard the news. My family—my wife, Sarah, and our two children—had been selected for a "Pilot Program" by the State. The program was to "upgrade" citizens' System accounts to a "new level of convenience and safety." I couldn't contact them. No one would risk communicating with a non-person like me. Still, I knew what this "Pilot Program" meant. I had seen the patterns in the data before my digital existence was wiped away. The State was taking the next step, implanting microchips to make the System "a part of you," as their propaganda said. They were the perfect candidates: obedient, never questioning the System, believing that compliance was the path to happiness. It broke my heart to know that my defiance, my attempts to break free, had pushed them further into the State's grip. They became examples, shining beacons of what the "ideal citizen" should be. Weeks later, a small, anonymous package arrived at my cell. Inside was a handwritten note on a scrap of paper. "We're part of the System now, entirely. It's wonderful. We don't have to worry anymore. You should join us, John. It's the only way to be whole again." The handwriting was Sarah's, but the words were not her own. They were a template, a cruel joke by the State to show they could reach me even here. My family was now completely subsumed, their identities digitized, their humanity archived in some data center. It was then that I realized the full scope of my tragedy. My resistance had not only failed to protect me, but it had also served as a catalyst for the State to tighten its grip on those I loved most. I had become the fulcrum of my own undoing and theirs. So here I am, a remnant of a past age, writing the last chapter of a life consumed by the State, knowing that even this small act of defiance will be erased, like everything else. And as I put down my pen, I understand that the System hasn't just taken my money, my data, or even my family. It has taken my very soul.