H.D. MILLER: Through the Orange-Bitcoin-Glass.

This past weekend, my youngest daughter and I headed off to the big hoo-haw Bitcoin Conference downtown, courtesy of my oldest daughter who has been interning this summer with BTC Inc., the sumptuously overstaffed company that runs the conference. We wanted to see Trump and RFK, Jr. speak, and so my oldest daughter found us two free tickets, worth a combined street value of $1398.00 in fiat money.

Like many Americans, I kick myself hard for not putting money into Bitcoin back in the day. Unlike most Americans, however, I learned about Bitcoin very, very early on, in 2010, when fellow posters in online forums started touting it as the next big thing when the price was somewhere around 50 cents per coin. Of course, in response to this great discovery, I immediately and mercilessly mocked anyone who said they’d bought Bitcoin. I’m the guy standing on the dock when Columbus returned, calling him a liar.

In my favor, I was not alone in mocking Bitcoin buyers, almost all sensible people were doing that, because everyone who was into Bitcoin in 2010 was doing so to buy illicit drugs, or so it seemed.

Welp. Here we are. It’s the future and the stoners and autistic edgelords have won. Bitcoin 2024 has taken over the Music City Center and forced various politicians to come and kiss the disembodied ring of the electronic God Emperor, Big Daddy Bitcoin.

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