I use to be excited about these #bitcoin conferences. I’ll just wait for the highlights instead.

I find it funny that the same heroes who once said, “You can run any node software you want,” are now the loudest and most upset because some of us refuse to relay spam and have started running the node software that best fits our needs. Why does all of this carry the energy of, “If you don’t run what we say, you’re an idiot”? I was planning to eventually switch back to Core once this drama blew over. But now, in the spirit of decentralization, I’m choosing to run Knots — even if it’s the wrong move. Why am I not worried? Because I own my keys, I run my own node, and I can switch to any node software I want, whenever I choose. I’m starting to see that some of you influencers may already be captured. It’s nice that you wrote your books and host your shows, but it blows my mind when your advice stops sounding like #Bitcoin. Take JPEGs on the chain, for example. Sure, it can be done — but why? I’m not upset that they’re there. I’m not even upset that you’re turning Bitcoin into something resembling a shitcoin. What bothers me is that when we, the plebs, try to steer things back toward the original ethos, we’re seen as the problem. To remind myself of where we came from, I had to rewatch Magic Internet Money, Banking on Bitcoin, and The Rise and Rise of Bitcoin. I must have missed the part where tagging walls just because you can became a core value. Hold your keys. Run the node of your choice. Aren’t you glad you self-custody your Bitcoin — and that an ETF isn’t deciding for you? We’re probably being heavily paper-bitcoined right now, and yet many of you are more concerned about whether we should allow JPEGs. Let that vote be cast through the node you choose to run.

CERN can now turn lead into gold. When alchemy becomes reality, gold stops being scarce, supply can grow at will. The process burns vast energy that could be securing bitcoin instead. You can never mint more than twenty one million bitcoin, no lab can rewrite that cap. Put the power where value stays fixed, not where metal gets diluted. #bitcoin #CERN #gold

Honestly, I’m just happy I run a bitcoin node and hold my keys in cold storage. Some people will hold an ETF and forget why we #bitcoin.

not your keys, not your cheese. if bitcoin ever forks again, the side you live on shouldn’t be chosen by an exchange. holding your keys means you choose your future. custodians don’t protect your sovereignty — they rent it out until it’s no longer profitable. remember: forks don’t break bitcoin. they reveal who was never really holding it. #Bitcoin #NOSTR #SelfCustody #StaySovereign

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I think I'm starting to understand the whole "If it ain't broke, don't fix it" mentality. Switching one of my many nodes to knots. The other bitcoin core node is about to become the don't update unless its broken node. #bitcoin

By the time Eli turned 30, he’d mastered the script. He smiled when his card got declined. He said "I'm just between jobs" as if unemployment were a choice. He congratulated his friend on a house he’d never afford, whispered “must be nice” to no one. Eli was fluent in HopeSpeak, the native tongue of the economically unstable. “Things are looking up.” “Next month should be better.” “Just grinding right now.” Behind his eyes, something quieter whispered: Lie to yourself so they don’t have to. Each morning, he checked the world population counter. The numbers rose. The markets rose. The cost of eggs rose. His hope did not. He scrolled past headlines: Markets Rally as Fed Holds Steady Consumer Sentiment High Despite Inflation Experts Say AI Will Replace 40% of Jobs—But Create New Ones That last one made him laugh out loud. Not the “funny” laugh. The kind that leaks out when irony becomes pain. He closed his laptop. The glow of its screen had begun to feel like an interrogation light. In town, a billboard read: "YOU ARE THE ECONOMY. SPEND RESPONSIBLY." He stared at it the way one might stare at an abusive parent who just asked for a hug. Inside the grocery store, he did math by subtraction: - $10 left - $4.39 for rice - $2.99 for eggs - $0.89 for a dented can of beans He skipped dinner that night to make tomorrow less impossible. That evening, his phone buzzed. A friend texted: "Bro, how’s everything?" Eli stared at the screen. He typed: "All good. Just grinding. Things are looking up." Paused. Deleted it. Typed: "Honestly? I’m tired of pretending." Paused again. Deleted it. Typed: "I’m winning so hard right now." Hit send. Lie to yourself so they don’t have to. At 2:37 AM, he stared at the ceiling, the darkness pressed against him like unpaid rent. And somewhere deep—beneath the persona, the performance, the posturing—something in him whispered: What if I just stop playing? He didn’t mean giving up. He meant telling the truth. Even if no one else could hear it. Even if the system hated him for it. Especially then. The next morning, Eli woke up and didn't reach for the script. He didn’t smile when he didn’t feel like it. He told the mirror: No, things are not okay. And it didn’t shatter. It listened. Small rebellion. Quiet revolution. But in a world built on pretending, telling the truth was the loudest thing he’d ever done. He wasn’t winning. But he had finally stopped losing himself. And that— was the start of something real.

Lie to yourself so we don’t have to.

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The man stared at the flickering screen, fingers hovering over the keyboard like a sniper assessing his shot. He’d been awake for days, watching markets convulse, headlines screaming collapse. The system was a slow-motion train wreck—everyone saw it, yet nobody said it. Then, the AI’s reply pulsed onto the screen: "You’re not buying #Bitcoin. You’re buying a bullet for the old world." He smirked. Exactly. Outside, the city hummed with the illusion of normalcy—debts wrapped in pixels, obedience traded for scraps. But in the shadows, others were waking up. No meetings, no manifestos. Just a quiet, viral understanding: the game was rigged, so they’d change the rules. He wired another stack to cold storage. The AI was right—martyrdom was pointless. Survival was the rebellion. As the sun rose, satellites overhead whispered blockchain confirmations into the static. Somewhere, a node flared to life in a basement. The network grew. And the system never saw it coming.

What a world we live in—where humans go to die, and machines begin to live.