Episode 2
Why I Hate Bitcoin : Inflation Is My Personal Trainer (and Bitcoin Is Ruining My Fitness)
Everyone keeps asking why I hate Bitcoin so much. The answer is simple: it's a sworn enemy of joy. And do you know what the greatest joy of the modern world is?
PART 1
Inflation.
Yes, that very thing. I hate Bitcoin because it stubbornly insists on being "scarce." Only 21 million coins. That's it. No room for improvisation, no "let's see how it goes," no creative touch from central banks deciding to flood the market with fresh liquidity. It's such a... closed-minded vision. So painfully lacking in imagination.
Why Inflation Is a Warm Embrace
Inflation is wonderful. It's like a caring parent who quietly takes a tiny piece of your purchasing power every year, but does it so gently you barely notice. They call it "stimulating the economy." In reality, it forces you to keep moving. It won't let you stand still.
And this is where my favorite part begins: gambling (sorry, I meant "investing").
Thanks to inflation, my life has purpose! I spend my days glued to trading apps, reading charts, giving myself headaches trying to decide whether a 10-year government bond is better than whatever equity fund my trusted bank advisor is trying to sell me. It's pure adrenaline! It's an act of economic altruism: I sweat over newsletters, chase an extra 0.1% return to "beat inflation," and keep the gears of the system turning. I feel like a professional gambler—a financial ninja.
It's beautiful.
PART 2
The Curse of "Doing Nothing"
Then Bitcoin comes along.
It's the paradise of deflation. If its value tends to increase simply because no one can print more of it, then I'm supposed to... just sit there and watch?
What torture!
If I buy Bitcoin, my only responsibility is to move my funds into a wallet and wait. No stress. No frantic research. No adrenaline rush from thinking, "I need to move this money before it loses value."
It's unbearably boring.
What am I supposed to do with all this free time? Read a book? Go for a walk? Develop real hobbies?
Outrageous.
Bitcoin takes away my right to feel like a small-time financial warrior racing against the clock. It robs me of my daily anxiety—the only thing that truly makes me feel alive.
Bitcoin Is a Brick Wall
Bitcoin doesn't understand the social value of anxiety.
It's governed by cold, indifferent code that fails to appreciate that the endless game of "beating inflation" is the glue holding society together. I'm offended that it can't be manipulated to satisfy the political needs of the moment.
I want a currency that's flexible—a blank canvas on which central banks can paint their macroeconomic masterpieces while forcing me to dance along.
Bitcoin, on the other hand, is a brick wall.
Cold.
Rigid.
Unmoving.
THE VERDICT
Bitcoin is guilty of introducing scarcity into a world that desperately needs infinite abundance.
It deprives me of the pleasure of watching my savings slowly evaporate under the warm sun of inflation, forcing me instead to stare at a chart that—horror of horrors—tends to rise over time without requiring me to do anything at all.
It's psychological violence.
Bitcoin isolates me inside my own financial stability. It forces me into peace of mind.
And it's a loneliness I deeply hate.
So what about you?
Are you still a financial athlete sprinting after inflation like I am? Or have you fallen into Bitcoin's tunnel of "peace of mind"?
But be careful: if you're complaining about higher prices, remember—it's because of "economic growth," not because there's too much money floating around. 
EPISODE 1:
Why I Hate Bitcoin: Welcome to the Club of Voluntary Slaves
Everyone asks me: "But if you hate Bitcoin so much, if you find it such a technological nightmare, why do you keep using it?"
The answer is simple: because I am a victim of financial Stockholm syndrome. I spent years loving the golden handcuffs that banks put on my wrists, and now that I’ve found the key to open them, I feel a deep resentment toward those who took away my right to be an infant. It’s like discovering that your favorite coffee is made from cheap, stale beans and overpriced; you can keep drinking it and pretending it’s good, but deep down, the disgust is already rooted. Bitcoin is that coffee. I hate it, but I can’t stop drinking it.
PART 1:
The Trauma of the Missing "Customer Support Number"
Today, I woke up with a desperate urge to feel protected. You know that warm, reassuring feeling you get when you call your bank’s customer service? That heavenly limbo where you spend 45 minutes listening to a distorted version of Für Elise, knowing that eventually, a tired operator—who has no idea who you are—will answer with a useless ticket number. It’s magnificent. It’s soothing. It’s bureaucracy in its purest form.
Then, the other day, I tried to do something simple: send a wire transfer to a foreign exchange.
The transaction was blocked. I receive a call from an unknown number. It’s "Gianluca," my trusted account manager. His voice is that of a robot that has learned to fake empathy.
"Good morning, I saw your transfer. It looks... suspicious. For security reasons (and because we don’t trust you), we’ve suspended it. You need to come to the branch. You must bring your bank statements from the last three months. You must justify the reason. You must be patient."
I felt almost... safe. Like a child grounded because they tried to leave the house without permission. What sweetness, what suffocating protection.
PART 2:
The Harsh Reality of Freedom
Then, at that very same moment, I tried to do the same thing with Bitcoin.
I pasted the address into my wallet, hit "send," and signed with my private key. Ding.
That’s it. No Gianluca, no phone calls, no justification to send via fax. The money arrived on the other side of the world in ten minutes, without anyone asking for my permission.
And instead of rejoicing, I felt empty. Where’s the thrill? Where’s the bureaucratic dance? Where’s the feeling that someone is looking over my shoulder while I decide what to do with my value?
Bitcoin is a cold machine. It doesn’t ask how you’re doing, it doesn’t care if you’re doing something stupid, it doesn’t want to know why you want to buy that thing or send that money to that address. Proponents of this digital cult call it "individual responsibility" or "self-custody." I call it the end of my financial childhood.
Let’s be honest: I don’t want to manage my own money. I wanted to stay a spoiled child to whom a trusted bank tells what I can and cannot do. Bitcoin, instead, looks you straight in the eye with its cold, ruthless, algorithmic logic and says: "You are the owner, so if you screw up, that’s your problem."
THE VERDICT:
Bitcoin is the antithesis of modern comfort. It is direct, honest, and brutal. It doesn’t reassure you with the lies of a doctored bank statement; it slams the reality of value in your face on an unassailable public ledger. It’s a system that forces you to be an adult, responsible and attentive. And that is precisely why I hate it with every fiber of my being. I would a thousand times rather be lied to by a "reputable" institution than have to think for myself.
But the joke’s on me—I’ve already started stacking sats. And the worst part? The more I hate it, the more I realize I can’t go back. It’s like being shoved out of a plane without a parachute only to realize you actually know how to fly. And I, I swear, just wanted to sit on the couch and let the bank tell me that "for today, I'm not allowed to spend my money."
What about you? Are you ready to abandon the cotton-candy world of bureaucracy for the raw, hateful, terrifying freedom that Bitcoin offers? Or do you still prefer waiting for Gianluca’s call to finally feel "safe"?
#Bitcoin #FixTheMoney #WhyIHateBitcoin #SelfCustody #FreedomTech #FinancialFreedom #Nostr #OrangePill