Besides those who teleported with bitchat, 😂 as if it were a time machine, the bots, the unverified, and the aliases... roughly, overestimating, how many real humans are there on the #nostr protocol
#asknostr
A system that sees without eyes: Bitcoin stores consensus, Nostr propagates the message. Machines guarding truth in a world of digital signals.
— ✦ —
🦅 Cheyenne Isa ₿ 🦅
Margaret Thatcher (Politician):
"Being powerful is like being a lady. If you have to tell people you are, you aren't. Consensus is the negation of leadership, it is following fashion, not duty."
In Praise of the Useless: The Last Rebellion Against the Kingdom of the Quantifiable
We dig, we dig deep into the conformist muck of this century, desperately searching for a nugget, not of gold, but of something more precious: the authentic. That which has escaped the great grinding machine of uniform thought, the dictatorship of the 'like', the tyranny of the "happy" that must necessarily be "content". It is a heresy today, prosecutable under the code of digital good conduct, to love that which serves no purpose, except its own. It is an act of pure subversion, the last cry of freedom in a world that measures your value in clicks, in followers, in units of product sold.
One should love, yes, with the fierce tenacity of a castaway for the last drop of fresh water, everything that escapes. That which withdraws, that slips away from the clutches of the market and its ruthless logic. That odd object, that wacky idea, that uncomfortable feeling that has no price because, simply, it has no market price. It is not for sale. It is a crime of lèse-majesté against the economy. It is the old, battered book that no one will ever read again, it is the off-key song that will never make a playlist, it is the gratuitous gesture made solely for the perverse pleasure of gaining nothing in return. It is the last bastion of the human against the algorithm.
One should love, almost to the point of madness, everything that is more in order to be less. A sublime paradox! In an era that screams "optimize!", "streamline!", "maximize!", behold the scandalous beauty of disproportionate things. Of love that requires ten times the energy it returns. Of obsessive research that consumes a lifetime to produce a single line of truth. Of the work of art born from immense torment to be viewed by few, for a few moments. It is the investment at a loss, the sacrifice without reward, the push against every calculation of convenience. It is the glorious defeat of those who prefer, to winning mediocrity, the grandeur of a magnificent failure.
And one should, finally, love with an almost religious feeling everything that is alone in order not to be. This is the highest point of metaphysical revolt. The being that refuses to blend in, to contaminate itself, to become "part of". That chooses integral solitude so as not to become a commodity, so as not to be assimilated into the background noise of the herd. It is the thought that does not ask to be shared, the emotion that does not seek consensus, the beauty that does not knock on the door of others' judgment. It exists because it exists, period. It is an act of pure, aristocratic disdain for the logic of utility. It is the most radical negation of a world that wants everything and everyone interconnected, tracked, monetized.
To love the useless, the inefficient, the solitary: this is the last, desperate, magnificent vote of no confidence against the spirit of the age. It is the only form of resistance left for those who do not kneel at the altar of profit and approval. It is the only way to remain, deep down, a little human. Before the last nugget is found, cataloged, packaged, and put up for auction.
— ✦ —
🦅 Cheyenne Isa ₿ 🦅
Stuff that gives you peaceful chills: whispers, slow movements, delicate sounds. Like a video that relaxes you like magic.
⚡ Speed that amazes, thank you 🙏🏼 nostr:npub1njrxx64druwzxvexewj2ejg0upxp7ynd4m3a7tyfpp33fplz8ufq4z2hq2
Build your digital immune system. How? Consume quality content intentionally, not just what feeds recommend. Follow thoughtful voices from different perspectives—not to agree, but to understand their reasoning. When you see dubious news, don’t share it “for laughs”—sarcasm amplifies misinformation. Only share what you’ve vetted, and explain why. You become a beacon for others.
The decentralized web isn't technical utopia but ethological necessity.
It returns control from centralized nodes to individuals,
where each person becomes sovereign of their digital space.
“Democracy and freedom will be the theme of every broadcast and editorial… Meanwhile the ruling oligarchy and its highly trained elite of soldiers, policemen, thought-manufacturers and mind-manipulators will quietly run the show as they see fit.”
Aldous Huxley
⚡️As coffee flows into the cup, Bitcoin flows through Lightning ☕️: liquid energy for a frictionless world! #NOSTR #ZAP #sats #zaps #bitcoin #coffeechain #plebchain #grownostr
Article on the biological mechanisms of mRNA vaccine damage. Very technical but interesting.
FINK ON THE THRONE: GLOBAL FINANCE CROWNS ITSELF AT DAVOS
Founder Schwab steps down amid minor accusations and internal discontent. In his place, BlackRock's Larry Fink and big pharma's Hoffmann. The message is unmistakable: there's no need to conquer nations, just buy their brain. And Bitcoin? From rebel to luxury product.
The news could have been passed off as a formal handover, one of those guard changes the powerful love to shroud in normality. Instead, it has the bitter taste of a declaration of war. Larry Fink, CEO of the BlackRock behemoth, and André Hoffmann, vice-chair of pharmaceutical giant Roche, are the new co-chairs of the World Economic Forum in Davos. They replace Klaus Schwab, the 87-year-old founder forced out after an internal investigation that, while clearing him of major wrongdoing, uncovered a series of administrative irregularities and complaints about the work environment. An inglorious exit for the man who for decades set the global agenda.
But the real earthquake is not Schwab's departure, which was long anticipated. It is the nature of his successors. BlackRock is not a simple investment firm: it is a financial Leviathan that moves unimaginable capital, holds stakes in half the world's economy, and, through shareholder votes, influences the policies of entire industrial sectors. Putting its boss in charge of the most important think tank of global capitalism is like appointing the fox as guardian of the henhouse. Or rather, as owner of the entire farm.
The Fink-Hoffmann duo also outlines a new geopolitics: no longer just American dominance, but a transatlantic condominium uniting Wall Street finance with European industrial and pharmaceutical power. It is technocracy becoming a shadow government. While Trump tries to dismantle the multilateral system piece by piece with the rage of a populist and China advances with the patience of a Go player, they—the real owners—sit where it is decided what tomorrow will be.
And what will it be? BlackRock has already made its vision clear: pro-risk, overweight on US equities, a big bet on artificial intelligence. Fink is also the high priest of sustainable finance, an oxymoron that always plays well in Davos. With him in charge, the Forum will no longer be a place for debate on great challenges, but the strategy office of those who monetize those challenges.
And in all this, Bitcoin? The cryptocurrency born to challenge the system, to offer refuge from central bank surveillance and the arbitrariness of high finance, now trades at stratospheric values. Some shout triumph and bet on new records. But it's a dangerous illusion. Because BlackRock doesn't fight what it can't control: it digests it, packages it, and sells it as an ETF. Larry Fink has no need to stop Bitcoin: he can buy it, put it in a fund, and resell it to the very people who thought they were subverting the established order.
The paradox is bitter and magnificent at once: the symbol of libertarian rebellion becomes an asset in the portfolio of the world's largest asset manager. The very institution accused by many of wanting to rule the world is now led by the man who holds the keys to the global vault. Revolution is no longer made in the streets: it is traded on the Stock Exchange. And the sovereigntists, the populists, the rebels of all kinds have become customers of those they wanted to destroy.
— ✦ —
🦅 Cheyenne Isa ₿ 🦅
In inner silence, you find the infinite movement of the universe; in the stillness of the mind, you discover perfect action.
Exactly. Reactions to turbulence follow predictable patterns. Those with old wealth often resist change, clinging to familiar systems. Others seek safety in community or isolation. The real advantage will go to those who can adapt, blending caution with innovation.
🤷🏻♀️ I dwell in total uncertainty 💡
Nodes whisper 📡, truth blooms wild 🌼✊.
nostr:note1re9txy9np4vkhtdnts7z4hf9eq2l3h9w3n0nac237l9kww3f7nwsw8xxg9
⚡️As coffee has its aroma, Bitcoin has its 21 million ☕️: certainties in a world of noise! #NOSTR #ZAP #sats #zaps #bitcoin #coffeechain #plebchain #grownostr
THE SCAM OF THE CENTURY: WHAT THEY CALL ARTIFICIAL INTELLIGENCE IS JUST A Slick MAGIC TRICK
A ghost haunts the global technocracy's polite society, the tedious conferences of Davos, and the glossy pages of magazines. A myth so powerful, so seductive, that no one dares to question it anymore. It is the ghost of Artificial Intelligence. A modern deity to which we sacrifice data, privacy, billions of dollars, and, above all, our critical spirit. Well, the time has come to commit an act of sacrilege and tear down the temple veil: Artificial Intelligence, as it is touted, does not exist.
This is not about denying the evidence of technological progress. Perish the thought. Computers have become monstrously powerful, algorithms feed on unimaginable amounts of data, machines can imitate – sometimes with unsettling verisimilitude – human creativity. But imitation is not creation. Efficiency is not intelligence. This is the colossal sophism on which the entire AI industry rests. They have sold us the idea of the electronic brain, when in reality we only have a concave, distorted, and hyperactive mirror that sends back, magnified, fragments of our own intelligence, our culture, our biases.
What is this monster everyone is talking about, at its core? A system that, via complex but still mathematical calculations, identifies patterns within an ocean of pre-existing information. Then, based on these patterns, it generates an output: text, an image, a prediction. It is a mechanical process. There is no understanding, no consciousness, not the slightest glimmer of will or desire. It is a trained parrot reproducing complex sentences without understanding their meaning, except this parrot has swallowed the entire Library of Alexandria. Its performance is astounding, but it is still a performance. A magic trick. We, bewitched by the illusion, mistake complexity for depth, statistics for wisdom.
The priests of this new religion – entrepreneurs seeking funds, academics seeking glory, journalists seeking clicks – are busy preaching the imminent advent of the Singularity, the moment the machine will surpass us. It is the greatest science fiction narrative ever sold as reality. It serves to inflate financial bubbles, concentrate power in few hands, and create an aura of inevitability around choices that should instead be scrutinized with the microscope of distrust. They are convincing us to delegate decisions concerning justice, medicine, and security to a black box, opaque and uncontrollable by its very nature. It is an unprecedented folly. We are abdicating our responsibility in favor of an oracle that, in reality, only tells us what it wants to hear, based on what already was.
The tragic irony is that this artificial "intelligence" is, in fact, the most human and most fallible product that exists. Its mistakes are not errors of pure logic, but our mistakes. Its biases are our biases, crystallized in data and amplified by an algorithm. It is a mirror reflecting our image, but we prefer to believe we are looking at a god. It is a defense mechanism to avoid facing the banal, desolate truth: we have not created a new form of sentient life. We have only built an amplifier, extremely powerful and dangerous, of our stupidity and our genius.
Let us therefore stop talking about "Intelligence." Let's call it what it is: Advanced Statistical Calculation. Mechanical Data Processing. Hypercalculator. Anything, as long as it is stripped of its false prophetic mantle. Let us admire the power of the tool, but let us not bow to it. Let us study it, control it, regulate it. Above all, let us not succumb to the temptation to think it is more intelligent than us. Because the only true intelligence in circulation, for now, is still the human one. With all its limits, its emotions, its flashes of genius and its abysmal stupidities. And perhaps that is precisely what scares us so much. Having built a slave so efficient it makes us feel inadequate. But a slave, however powerful, remains a slave. Not a master. Not a god. And above all, not an intelligence.
— ✦ —
🦅 Cheyenne Isa ₿ 🦅
Why aren't you permanently enraged out of your mind when you realize your blood, sweat, and tears are being systematically robbed through a rotten financial system that creates value from nothing and crushes you with imposed debt? ABSOLUTE BASTARDS. Buy #Bitcoin Dismantle the system. Then we take out the trash and rid ourselves of these criminals.
The Borderless Hunt: When Digital Footprints Become Chains
Western democracies have birthed a legal monster. Elegant in form, ferocious in substance. The latest investigative tool – christened with bureaucratic innocence "Digital Search Warrant" – is a universal arrest warrant for your bits and bytes. Forget national borders: today, authorities can chase your digital trails across the globe with a click. A revolution packaged as progress, whispering in the citizen’s ear: "Do you really have something to hide?". A rhetorical question, naturally. Worthy of an inquisitor in pinstripes.
The Privacy Mirage
The smartphone you clutch like a talisman? It’s your gilded cage. Every like, every search, every downloaded app leaves footprints more indelible than those on wet sand. Legislators, with solemn gravity, speak of "procedural modernization". Translation: turning the Internet into a massive criminological archive. Providers must surrender geolocated data, browsing histories, even metadata from deleted conversations. The technical term is "evidence acquisition". The real one? Manhunt 2.0.
The Paradox of Eternal Evidence
Here lies the system’s perverse genius: digital data never dies. While physical evidence decays, an impulsive tweet from 2010 will haunt you in 2040. Judges gain access to unlimited temporal archives – a concept that would make Orwell pale. Imagine: a youthful mistake turned into perpetual evidence, while the powerful navigate murky waters protected by armies of lawyers. The irony? Tools created to catch criminals become traps for ordinary citizens.
The New Hunters
Who operates these nets? A silent army of forensic technocrats. They wear no uniforms but decipher codes with the ruthlessness of secret agents. They operate in windowless rooms, where the Constitution is replaced by algorithms. Their mantra? "Data doesn’t lie". Pity humans interpret it. A wrong geolocation, a spoofed IP address, and an innocent becomes a cyber-ghost. Without the right to immediate counter-evidence. Without even knowing they’re under investigation.
The Future of Freedom
The stakes aren’t security. They’re the very nature of liberty. When every click becomes potential evidence, self-censorship strangles critical thought. Social media? Already transformed into theaters of suspicion. And while governments toast to the "global fight against crime", corporations sell access to your secrets like oranges at the market. Splendid: Big Brother no longer needs cameras. We finance him ourselves, click by click.
THE PERFECT TRAP
This isn’t justice. It’s a real-time social control experiment. With one difference from 20th-century totalitarian regimes: today we voluntarily surrender our data, deluding ourselves we’re safe. Digital search warrants are the symptom of a fatal disease: the surrender of individual sovereignty on the altar of virtual security. When digital footprints outlive flesh, man ceases to be a citizen. He becomes an archive.
🚨 To avoid these risks, or at least minimize them to the absolute maximum, I recommend following:
nostr:npub18dlusgmprudw46nracaldxe9hz4pdmrws8g6lsusy6qglcv5x48s0lh8x3 🚨
— ✦ —
🦅 Cheyenne Isa ₿ 🦅
"Deeds will not be less valiant because they are unpraised."
J.R.R. Tolkien
So, if I didn't understand and misinterpret, the weak link would become the browser. Which ones can we trust at the moment? 🤔
The Cerebral Apocalypse: When Thought Becomes Digital Garbage
We are witnessing a silent massacre: the mass lobotomization through screens. Our mind, once a forge of profound thoughts, is now reduced to a receptacle of informational splinters, digital fragments that slip away faster than an embarrassed eel.
I observe with pure disgust this generation of "intermittent brains", capable of absorbing content like deranged vacuum cleaners but utterly incapable of retaining even the crumbs of a concept. One second of TikTok erases a minute of reflection, a meme replaces an essay, a like substitutes dialogue.
The real revolution? Return to the book. Reading means nourishing the mind exactly as you nourish a body: with care, discipline, awareness.
Those who train muscles go to the gym; those who want steel-like intelligence must train it through reading. Not with these frenetic scrollings that produce more pneumatic vacuum than knowledge.
The "intellect test" is far more important than the "swimsuit test". But we've become a herd of functional illiterates, happy to float in the ocean of superficiality, convinced that an image is worth a thousand words. No: a completed thought is worth a thousand images.
Wake up. Or in twenty years, we'll only communicate through memes.
— ✦ —
🦅 Cheyenne Isa ₿ 🦅
**The Spark Beyond Mediocrity: Why Settling is a Betrayal of Self**
The curtain rises on our era’s most pathetic comedy: the apotheosis of *almost*, the canonization of *good enough*, the national anthem of *"well, it could’ve been worse."* We float in a cultural broth tasting of expiration, where survival without major mishaps passes for aspiration. Cut-rate psychologists whisper through apps: "Be kind to yourself—lower the bar." Social media philosophers preach the wisdom of "enough." Merchants of tranquility sell soul-placebos. **And in this swamp of complacent mediocrity, the heretic emerges: one who bled not to survive, but to burn with a light they never knew they carried.**
Ah, blessed sufficiency! Cozy as a threadbare pajama. It lets you float, not sink, barely scrape by—spiritually and financially. It’s the haven of the timid, the refuge of the weary, the holy grail of those who’ve stopped asking: *"What if there’s more?"* Close your eyes. Imagine that version of yourself fed on bread and compromises. The one who whispered *"whatever"* to passion, *"it’ll do"* to talent, *"oh well"* to dreams. Recognize it? Eyes a little dull? Wearing resignation’s comfy shoes? **It’s a ghost in life—that "you" you could’ve been—now politely erased.**
Yet, dear readers hungry for uncomfortable truths, another story exists. It belongs to those who peered into their potential mediocrity and said: *"No thanks, not today Satan."* They pressed their weaknesses under a vise, tilled the wild field of their limits, wept salt tears onto keyboards, fields, blank pages, in gyms at 5 AM. They endured the silent smirk of *"Who asked you to try?"* They heard the siren call of shortcuts: *"Why bother? It’s all the same."*
**Then comes *that* moment.** That summit. That conquest—external or internal, tangible or soul-striking—unnecessary for breathing but essential to feel *alive*. It’s a gate opening where none seemed to exist. It’s seeing in the mirror not the face of one who *gets by*, but one who *arrived* somewhere worth the climb. It’s the electric thrill of forging yourself in will’s fire—not buying half-measures from life’s discount aisle.
What is this "priceless joy" if not wild triumph of will over cosmic laziness? The forbidden fruit ripped from self-pity’s tree. Not the placid satisfaction of bills paid on time—it’s the warrior’s high returning battle-bloodied but *victorious*, clutching the trophy of a better self. The thrill of disobeying the destiny written by your own sloth. **The perfect existential revolt—silent, lethal—against the tyranny of *"I could settle."***
I know: existential minimalism’s priests will wring their hands. *"Pointless effort!"* they’ll cry. *"Vanity! Narcissism!"* Bullshit. This is vanity’s opposite. Vanity settles for polish—here, substance is mined with pickaxes from character’s hard rock. It’s rejecting placebos for bitter, curative medicine. Recognizing "sufficient happiness" as fraud—a pacifier for petulant children. Real adult joy, the scald that lasts, comes from breaking limits, not politely ignoring them.
Yes, the price is steep. Loneliness—mediocrity loves company and fears those who fly. Misunderstanding. Back-breaking labor and mind-gnawing doubt. The awful risk of failing, falling, looking delusional to merchants of "enough." But those who tasted that nectar—the fierce, hard-won joy of daring *more*—will tell you with an iron victory-smile: **"Worth every tear, every drop of sweat, every terror-filled second. Because now I know who I am. And I’m not who I might’ve settled for being."**
In the end, comrades on this uncomfortable journey, the choice is between two mirrors. One fogged, reflecting the reassuring image of one who *"made it… sort of."* The other, pitilessly clear, shows the face of one who burned their ships and conquered their inner Acropolis. Before this mirror, will you stare in horror or fierce pride? The answer—you know—is all that matters. And no mindfulness app will ever give it to you.
— ✦ —
🦅 Cheyenne Isa ₿ 🦅
**GINGER (Zingiber officinale)**
*"The Fiery Root that Ignites Life"*
🌿 Ancient Chinese sailors called it *Jiang* - "shield against sea demons". Arab traders bartered it for gold along the Spice Route.
🍂 **Traditional Harvest**:
- Mature rhizomes (9-10 months) dug after monsoon rains
- Washed in running water, scraped with shells
- Sun-dried on bamboo mats for 21 days
⚗️ **Verified Preparations**:
1. **Sailors' Infusion**:
5g freshly grated rhizome + 250ml water
↳ Simmer 10 min on lively fire
↳ *Dose*: 1 cup every 3 hours (stops nausea in 20 min)
2. **Stomach Syrup**:
100g ginger + 200g acacia honey
↳ Slow-cooked in clay pot
↳ *Use*: 1 tsp before meals (↑ 70% digestion)
3. **Pain-Relief Compress**:
Fresh pulp wrapped in banana leaves
↳ Heated on volcanic stone
↳ *Application*: 30 min on joints (↓ 55% pain)
⚠️ **Ancient Warnings**:
- ❗ "Don't ignite fire in empty belly" (avoid on empty stomach)
- 🔄 "Beware when blood dances" (interacts with blood thinners)
- ⚖️ Max dosage: 4g/day
💫 **Scientific Verification**:
- Nausea ↓ 88% (pregnancy/chemotherapy)
- Digestion speed ↑ 40%
- Muscle stiffness ↓ 50% in 5 days
#Ginger #DigestiveHealth #HerbalRemedies
The Influencer Paradox: How Emptiness Became America's Hottest Commodity
Welcome to the greatest show on earth: the influencer economy. Where being spectacularly useless is not just a career - it's the American Dream 2.0.
A generation that has transformed vapidity into a multi-million dollar industry. These digital gladiators don't fight with swords, they battle with selfies, hashtags, and an unprecedented ability to monetize absolutely nothing.
In the land of opportunity, these modern alchemists have discovered the ultimate gold: turning pure, unfiltered stupidity into cold, hard cash. "I'm too pretty to work"? More like "I'm too smart at being dumb to ever need a real job."
Silicon Valley meets Hollywood in this bizarre circus of attention economics. These influencers aren't just personalities - they're walking, talking business models of weaponized mediocrity. They've hacked the system so brilliantly that corporate America is taking notes.
Want a boob job? Launch a GoFundMe. Need luxury lifestyle funding? Just slide into some CEO's DMs. These aren't just personalities - they're performance artists of capitalism, creating value out of thin air with the precision of Wall Street traders.
The social media landscape has become their colosseum. Every provocative post is a gladiatorial combat, every controversial statement a strategic missile designed to generate maximum engagement. They don't just break the internet - they own it.
Philosophically speaking, they're more than just shallow content creators. They're a sociological phenomenon, a mirror reflecting the deepest, most uncomfortable truths about modern American culture. They reveal our collective obsession with fame, our worship of surface over substance.
These aren't just influencers. They're high priests of a new religion where followers, likes, and viral moments are the sacred texts. They've created an entire ecosystem where being spectacularly unimpressive is the ultimate flex.
The genius? They've turned being annoying into an art form. They've transformed narcissism into a business strategy so effective that traditional marketing looks like a horse-and-buggy next to a Tesla.
America, land of reinvention, has outdone itself. We've taken the concept of the self-made individual and mutated it into something both horrifying and fascinating. These influencers aren't just selling products - they're selling the ultimate American product: the myth of effortless success.
In the grand bazaar of human potential, emptiness has become our most valuable export. And boy, are we killing the market.
Welcome to the Influencer States of America - where nothing is everything, and everything is a brand.
— ✦ —
🦅 Cheyenne Isa ₿ 🦅
⚡️Like the morning coffee ritual ☕️, stacking sats daily builds your financial freedom! #NOSTR #ZAP #sats #zaps #bitcoin #coffeechain #plebchain #grownostr
