#meme

I wish I could teach every new father one lesson my elders failed to teach me:

Defy, with all the fire of your soul, the cowardly lie that caution is wisdom! To tiptoe through life is not to master it—it is to forfeit it, to shrink from its battles, to live half-dead before the grave claims you!

#fatherhood

FBI has their intern running the Anonymous op now.

Yet the danger is always the same: men will cheer the fall of one tyrant only to kneel before another, so long as the altar remains.

Some nameless tinkerer lit a spark, and now the whole rotten edifice is smoldering.

The world is full of men who rail against thieves in the alley but bow before thieves in the palace.

For all its power, generative AI does not think—it predicts. It does not reason—it reflects. And it does not discern—it merely magnifies. When fed flawed assumptions, it will not hesitate to scale them into towering mistakes with unshakable confidence.

And that is its greatest gift to us.

Because failure has always been the foundation of wisdom. The slow, stumbling errors of history have cost civilizations centuries. But AI—relentless, unblinking, unburdened by ego—will condense those lessons into mere moments. It will not spare us from mistakes, but it will spare us from making them slowly.

The question is not whether AI will lead us astray. It will. Repeatedly. Spectacularly. But in doing so, it will force us to confront truth faster than ever before. It will demand of us a new agility—not just in innovation, but in correction. The future will belong not to those who avoid mistakes, but to those who recover from them at speed.

This is not the age of blind faith in machines. It is the age of human mastery over them. And the faster we fail, the faster we learn.

#AI #WisdomThroughFailure #HumanIngenuity #TheGreatAcceleration

If Bitcoin fails, I will be forced into the most preposterous position of all: belief in something else. And that, I confess, is an impossibility, for everything else is either the rickety scaffolding of a failing empire or the tinkering of men who mistake their own bureaucratic brilliance for divine intervention.

If Bitcoin fails to maintain its sacred, node-driven decentralization, then we are not merely back to square one—we are back to the Tower of Babel, where every man must once again barter in the dialect of his captors.

For it is not merely that Bitcoin is the best hope—it is the only thing that is not hopeless. Everything else is mere theater: fiat is fraud, altcoins are alchemy, and central banking is that most absurd of superstitions, the belief that printing wealth can make men richer.

So if Bitcoin falls, then there is only one option left: to laugh at the absurdity of civilization, to drink deep from the goblet of irony, and to play the world’s most wretched game—the fiat casino—where the dice are loaded, the house always wins, and the chips are nothing more than elaborate promises from liars.

But I do not think Bitcoin will fail. No, I think it will stand—not because men are wise, but because they are foolish enough to try everything else first.

I will not surrender to this narrowing of the soul. I will be strong because my children depend on it. I will be learned because my ancestors demand it. And I will seek the face of God, not in the dry and dusty corridors of modern theology, but in the wild and wonderful places where He has always dwelt—in the storm on the sea, in the hush of the forest, in the quiet and stubborn faith of a man who refuses to kneel to anything but the Almighty.

What was in the water in Austria in the first quarter of the 20th century?

I do not believe in the modern notion that children are best raised by experts, nor in the even madder notion that education is a thing that happens in fluorescent-lit rooms under the careful supervision of bureaucrats. A child should be raised at his father’s knee, and educated under his mother’s eye, and taught to read not from textbooks but from old, dangerous, wonderful books filled with pirates and poets and saints and soldiers.

A man who does not govern his own house is not fit to govern anything. He may cast votes and pass laws, he may write essays and deliver speeches, but if he cannot keep his word to his wife or his patience with his children, he is an unconvincing ruler of anything larger than a vegetable garden.

The family is the first and greatest rebellion against tyranny. It is the only institution older than kings, and the only institution which does not apologize for itself. Governments may rise and fall, laws may be written and rewritten, but the law of a father in his home is more ancient than Hammurabi and more enduring than Rome.

The story of Christ is not merely a tale among tales—it is the one tale so magnificent that, if it be true at all, it must be the very heart of all reality. And if it were false or mere allegory, then reality itself would be a drab and broken thing, unfit for the soul of man.

The Christian does not merely believe in Christ; he wagers his whole life upon Him. He embraces the paradox, the grand defiance of a world that scoffs at mystery, and walks with joyful defiance through the valley of doubt, because to do otherwise—to cast off the Incarnation, the Resurrection, the great romance of the Gospel—would be to exile oneself into a wasteland of meaninglessness. Faith is not the absence of doubt; it is the refusal to let doubt rule. It is to choose to live in a world where Jesus Christ and his story actually happened, because it is so good and so beautiful that you refuse to live in a universe where it didn't happen. To call oneself Christian is to courageously live as though the world is enchanted.

A man who wishes to be free must first understand what freedom is. He must love it, as a child loves a storybook, as a knight loves his sword, as a sailor loves the open sea. And because he loves it, he must be prepared to defend it—not in the tired jargon of the progressive, who is forever demanding a new and more fashionable sort of slavery, but in the ancient and romantic sense of one who stands at the gate with sword in hand.

It is the great error of modernity to assume that because something is old, it is wrong; that because something is customary, it is corrupt; and that because something is beautiful, it is impractical. The world, like an ill-tempered clerk, has mistaken rebellion for reason, and has set itself to the tiresome work of tearing down what it neither understands nor appreciates.

And now you see why Christianity builds civilization. It does not begin with certainty; it begins with doubt. It does not wait for perfect knowledge; it demands movement.

You have two choices:

1. To act as if that which you doubt is true.

2. To not act at all.

And here is the paradox: doubt is not the opposite of faith. It is the very thing that makes faith possible. A man who waits for absolute proof before stepping forward will never move. But a man who moves, even in doubt, proves something far greater—that truth is not merely something we observe, but something we create by the way we live.

So live as if it is true—not because you have been convinced beyond all doubt, but because you know that, if it were true, it would be the only thing worth living for. And in the end, you will find that the man who acts as if Christianity is true has done something far more important than proving it. He has made it real.

Blackjack or Clove!

The modern world has not lost its voice, only its spine. After twenty years of genuflecting to victimhood, even good men have forgotten how to speak plainly—first to others, then to themselves. A world without honest words soon becomes a world without honest thoughts.

Butirskiy

We’ve lived half a century without real money as they call this debt we use "currency", as if that's some kind of an MMT flex.