Knots today!

Yelling is primal it's how conscious beings signal danger, it's what babies do before they even have words. It's not about being smooth or intellectual, it's about jolting people awake. Silent planning is fine for the few already awake, but the masses are sedated by the system's shiny distractions. They won't snap out of it with whispers.

MANIFIESTO DE GUERRA

We are here because the system hijacked our fucking brains.

Not one politician, not one banker — the whole thing.

The collective acts like a single brain, rewiring you to obey.

It rewards silence, punishes yelling, and calls that “order.”

They turned yelling into “crazy” —

but yelling is the alarm bell when the house is on fire.

Right now, society is the house on fire.

This machine prints money while it steals your time,

your savings, your future.

And it wants you polite, debating in panels,

while it drains you like a battery.

So fuck that.

You yell.

You scream the truth so loud it cuts through their signal jamming.

You stay close enough to the truth that they can’t call it fake —

but you make it burn, you make it sting,

you make them feel what they’ve made you feel.

This is not about being nice.

It’s about shoving a mirror into the face of the machine

and forcing it to see what it’s doing.

If their game is psychological warfare,

then we fight back with psychological warfare —

louder, sharper, dirtier.

We are not here to comfort the system.

We are here to break its spell.

I tried a little experiment.

I told a group of people:

“Imagine the Fed freezes the printer. There are 100 trillion dollars in existence, and never again is a new one created. Meanwhile, people keep working, producing, inventing—growth continues. But those same 100T dollars must circulate in all of it. What happens? Each dollar represents a bigger slice of wealth. Your $100 bill, without you lifting a finger, buys more in 5, 10, 20 years.”

Blank stares.

They couldn’t process it.

They’ve been conditioned to think money must lose value. To them, the idea that money can actually appreciate feels like a glitch in the matrix.

That’s the cognitive block: inflationism as dogma. They don’t even argue—it just doesn’t register.

I didn’t mention Bitcoin. I kept it in dollars, just to avoid the knee-jerk “orange coin” shutdown. Still—nothing.

Talking out loud to yourself = meditation + journaling + debate partner + proof-of-work for thought.

Thanks. Working on my node as we speak 💪

Bitcoin is not gold. Gold came to us with rules imposed by nature—its scarcity and durability were written into the earth itself. Bitcoin, by contrast, exists only because people agree to uphold its rules. Its scarcity and integrity depend not on geology but on culture. Unless there are purists who insist on preserving its original ethos, Bitcoin could drift over decades and dissolve into nothing more than a marketplace for “blockspace.” That is why maximalism matters. It is not a religion, as critics sometimes claim, but an immune system—a way of defending the organism from slow cultural erosion.

I didn’t get into Bitcoin early. I dismissed it. Ignored it. Partied through its genesis, like most people do when they think the system still works in their favor. I wasn’t open to it, because I hadn’t suffered enough to see it yet.

When I finally did get it, I understood what Saylor meant:

“Everyone buys Bitcoin at the price they deserve.”

And that price isn't just denominated in dollars—it’s paid in confusion, regret, fiat noise, and the slow bleed of value you never gave permission to lose.

Bitcoin didn’t fix my life. But it did fix the measurement of it. Once I truly got on a Bitcoin standard—mentally, emotionally, financially—I stopped feeling the dips. Not just in price. In life. The fog started lifting.

Because what most people don’t realize is:

Fiat isn’t just broken. It’s a hostage situation.

Central banks claim they can predict the future. Set interest rates. Inject liquidity. Manage inflation. All based on models that pretend to know the unknowable. But they don’t. They can’t. And deep down, they know it.

Their role depends on preserving the illusion that a handful of economists can fine-tune a global economy. They must inflate. They must manipulate. Because admitting the truth—that value must emerge organically, not be dictated—would cost them everything: control, legitimacy, their jobs.

Bitcoin doesn’t play that game.

It doesn’t guess how much money to issue. It defines it. It doesn’t promise utopia. It just removes distortion. It lets the world price itself honestly. That alone rewires how you view time, effort, energy, and legacy.

When you live on a fiat standard, you feel scarcity, even when you're working hard. When you live on a Bitcoin standard, you feel clarity—even when life is unpredictable. Because the measurement is no longer lying to you.

So no, this isn’t just some investment.

And no, we’re not “toxic” for sounding the alarm.

We’re awake. And once you are, you can’t unsee the crime.

Bitcoin is not a prediction machine.

It is a truth machine.

It is exit.

If you’re already here, you get it.

If you’re not, you will.

Just know—once you switch standards, the world makes sense.

Fix the money. Then live.

Imagine I mined one Bitcoin today, July 20th, 2025. It cost me around $10 worth of energy—say, electricity, hardware wear, labor, whatever it took.

Now fast-forward ten years. That same Bitcoin still exists. It’s still one out of 21 million. Nobody printed more. Nobody diluted it. No central authority changed the rules. I still have that exact unit—intact, untouched, unedited.

But what about the $10 I spent to mine it? Where’s that $10 now?

In dollar terms, it’s gone. Maybe it bought me lunch back then. But in 2035, that same $10 won’t buy me the same lunch. Hell, it might not even buy me the napkin.

That’s because the dollar is not a fixed unit. It’s not like a kilogram or a liter. It’s more like a gas—it expands and loses density. It’s a moving target, constantly being devalued by the people who issue it. And it happens slowly enough that most people never stop to ask: Why doesn’t this unit hold its meaning?

But Bitcoin does. That’s the difference. Bitcoin is a monetary unit with no central authority, no dilution, and no permission structure.

When I mined that Bitcoin, I converted my energy—a real, physical resource—into value that lasts.

That’s the first mental leap:

Dollars are claims, and claims can expire, be inflated, or be denied.

Bitcoin is settlement. It’s the actual asset.

And the second leap is this:

The dollar isn’t stable. It’s just familiar.

Bitcoin feels volatile because it’s measured in a decaying unit.

If we flipped it—if we priced everything in Bitcoin or in sats—you’d start seeing the world differently. You’d stop thinking, "Bitcoin is going up," and start realizing, "The dollar is melting."

And once you see that, you can’t unsee it. You stop trading time and labor for decaying tokens. You start anchoring your life to something that doesn’t leak value every year.

That’s Bitcoin. Not a get-rich coin. A unit of value that holds its ground while everything else drifts.

Epistemic Authoritarianism vs. Emergent Value

Modern governance, economics, and academia suffer from a foundational confusion: the conflation of subjective value with objective authority. When someone declares, “This has intrinsic value,” they’re often just universalizing a personal or cultural preference—smuggling in their own values as if they’re laws of nature. It’s not just flawed thinking. It’s coercive.

Think about music: saying “only the music I like has value” is obviously arbitrary. But this same mistake happens everywhere—art, money, morality, politics—and worse, entire systems are built on those arbitrary assertions. When institutions enforce these preferences as objective truths, dissent gets framed not as reasoned disagreement, but as ignorance or rebellion.

That’s not governance. That’s ideological central planning.

Fiat money is the perfect example. When central banks say, “This debt-backed paper has value because we say so,” that’s a circular claim enforced by legal mandate, not grounded in truth or nature. The system runs on belief plus enforcement, not natural law.

Bitcoin exposes that lie. Its value arises from consensus plus thermodynamic cost, not from decree. It’s a system where value is emergent, not imposed. That’s the essence of separating money from the state.

The modern state behaves less like a steward and more like a parent trying to permanently infantilize its citizens. It doesn’t foster agency—it simulates care while enforcing dependence. People don’t revolt because they hate order. They revolt because they know the difference between order and control.

What we’re confronting is epistemic authoritarianism: a worldview where a small elite decides what counts as real, valuable, or legitimate—and then builds systems to enforce it. That’s not truth. That’s just power in moral costume.

A free society isn’t one where everyone agrees—it’s one where truth can emerge, and where meaning is earned, not dictated.

Bitcoin is more than money. It’s a rebellion against institutionalized gaslighting. It demands adult-to-adult interaction, voluntary systems, and decentralized meaning.

That’s not radical.

That’s the baseline for civilization.

The thing I HODL—and enjoy using—is on a 120-year rollout schedule with a hard cap of 21 million. Everything else can be produced infinitely. How is this not the most obvious truth on the planet by now?

The phrase “buy the dip” gets thrown around a lot in Bitcoin circles. But what does it actually mean in practice? Most people think it means waiting around with dry powder, watching charts, hoping to time a perfect entry. The truth is, that strategy rarely works. Dips don’t send calendar invites.

That’s why I believe in stacking sats relentlessly—through bull markets, bear markets, sideways markets. Just stack. Because when you stack consistently, you're not timing the market—you’re building a position. You’re dollar-cost averaging into the hardest money ever created. That’s the real foundation.

But here's where it gets interesting: when Bitcoin crashes, and I mean those “Bitcoin is dead” moments—the catastrophic, headline-worthy collapses—that’s when you do more than stack.

That’s when you go tactical.

If you’ve already stacked aggressively over time, you're sitting on a solid base of BTC. That gives you the opportunity to take a loan—not to buy coffee or chase altcoins, but to strike when the world panics. I'm talking about borrowing against your Bitcoin at reasonable rates (say 10% APR), at a conservative LTV like 60%, and buying more Bitcoin during full-blown crashes.

And no, this isn’t about overleveraging yourself into oblivion. This isn’t about gambling. It’s about waiting for asymmetric moments—when Bitcoin drops 40–70% in a flash, sentiment is broken, fear is everywhere, and people are selling at a loss.

It’s about stepping in when no one else can think clearly.

Here’s the deeper layer: each time these moments happen, they occur at higher nominal prices. In 2015, a catastrophic dip might’ve meant $200. In 2018, it was $3K. In 2020, it was $4K. In 2022, it was $15K. One day, we’ll see a million-dollar Bitcoin drop to $600K and people will call it “dead” again. You see the pattern.

That’s why trying to keep fiat on the sidelines to “buy dips” can actually cost you more in opportunity than you realize. You might never catch the perfect dip. But if you stack fast and early, and keep your BTC in a state where it can be used as collateral, you can wait patiently for chaos—and strike hard when it comes.

So forget about trying to outsmart the market with short-term fiat games. Stack sats like your future depends on it—and when the world panics, be the one with clarity and conviction.

Because Bitcoin rewards the prepared.