This is where I think Lyn Alden might be onto something. Big prints have been conspicuous due to their spikiness. If they just do it at a constant rate without letting up, it becomes the new norm, not some anomaly. Of course, the system will still break at some point, but I suspect they will get away with it longer using this strategy.

Probably a good idea to cover up so you don't get any Vegas on you.

Peter Schiff reportedly checked into psychiatric hospital, mumbling "Ponzi scheme" and "intrinsic value" to himself over and over.

Suck it, Schiff!

"You don't get it. There is no head to cut off; it's a conglomerate. If one of them betrays the principles of the accrual of money and power, the others betray him. What it is, is human weakness. You can't kill that with a gun."

It's not as bad yet, but it's definitely got its tentacles into Nostr too. Not surprising given the strong crossover interest with AI in the Bitcoin community. On the one end of the spectrum, one might use AI to merely pull quotes of things they've previously said and automate posting them. On the other end of the spectrum there's pure slop; shiny generated pictures, em dashes and all. Somewhere in between might be taking things you've said previously and expanding on them in "your" voice. Where would you draw the line?

Don't worry, our dear leaders will save us.

Yes, this is essentially a modern day Alaska purchase, where resource rich land was sold for two cents an acre, and everybody looks back now like "boy wasn't that a monumental fuck up to sell it that cheap."

So much to do, so much to see, so what's wrong with taking the back streets?

The Physical Record of a Man On the World I recently went back to my old neighborhood to look at the home I grew up in until the age of 13. Located on a rural street, half an hour from the nearest (small) town, far from the city which I now inhabit, it was the first time I had returned in over twenty years. A tin can of a double-wide trailer, it's not much to look at, and I'm surprised it's still standing at all. It was in questionable shape when we lived there, and it's been through much since then, I'm sure. From the respectful distance of the street (I'm not the type to go knocking on some stranger's door for a stronger hit of nostalgia), it wasn't the house that most drew my attention, however. Two other features interested me more. One, the workshop in the back yard. My father built that shop when I was a child, mostly by himself although a friend would come by and help occasionally when the strength of two men was called for. Somewhere within those walls there even exist nails clumsily pounded in by my sister and I, as we learned firsthand the skill required in even the simple act of wielding a hammer. It takes many hundreds of such clumsily pounded nails before they glide in with ease, as if on command. The designs of the mind do not flow freely through into the world; they must submit to the limitations of the body, and of the tool. To become a master of one's tools, one must first be their disciple. A humble man, my father owned and ran a small business installing sheet metal gutters when I was born; simple, unglamorous work, largely devoid of craftsmanship (although one can still find opportunities for craftsmanship, however small, in any job). He soon exited that business, however, and returned to being an employee, now in local woodworking shops, building cabinets and millwork. Low quality stuff, but it paid the bills (barely). The shop in the back yard was where he could work on personal projects, art pieces, and some of his greatest works: grandfather clocks (very much pieces of art in their own right). Over the years, through uncountable evenings and weekends, whenever he could find time between raising his kids and maintaining his home, he honed his craft. In recent years he has become recognized as a master in the highest echelon of his craft: those building fine works of wood in the Pacific Northwest. That upward trajectory, imperceptible at first, started in that shop and compounded over decades. I don't know what that building is used for today; it could very well be a play space for kids away from the house, or merely used for storage, but there it stands, a silent testament to one man's pursuit of excellence. Something else began in that shop; something that was never completed, at least not by my father. Geodesic domes have long appealed to various hippies, libertarians, and science-lovers seeking to improve their land with strong, cheap structures built of simple, repeated elements. My father was somewhat of a blend of those three archetypes, and I think the mathematical elegance of the structure appealed to him. Being a clock-maker, mathematics (and in particular, geometry) was as much a tool of his trade as any saw or chisel. In the early 90's he set about cutting and shaping the edges and faces for two small wooden domes that were to be constructed on our property (I say "our" but in reality we just leased it from the local First Nations band). Everything was made of scrap 2x4 and plywood from local construction sites, collected for free, and the pieces of the frame were designed to interlock, no fasteners needed. He never ended up building those domes. All the pieces were stowed away in the crawlspace below his shop but he and my mother ended up separating before construction could begin. He left, moving to the city, and left the pieces of his project behind. My sister and I would soon follow him, and when my mother finally moved away from that place, those pieces still remained, forgotten and collecting dust over the years. It must have been a curious find for the new inhabitants: piles of identical struts and triangular boards, meticulously stacked and organized, with no (as far as I'm aware) explanation or instructions. For a certain type of mind, finds like this can be quite captivating, as they represent an opportunity for modern day anthropological research. Who fashioned these artifacts? What is their purpose? What do they say about the values and proclivities of those who lived on this land before us? When I visited my childhood home again, it was evident that someone had found those pieces, deduced their purpose, and put them to use. The plywood faces were not used, but they had built the two frames out in the spacious yard and covered them in clear sheet plastic, creating greenhouses or perhaps just freestanding sunrooms, I couldn't tell from the distance. From across time and space, my father had given them an idea and the materials to create something beautiful and functional that allowed them to connect with nature in a different way. My father's legacy encompasses more than just the physical structures outlined here, but it is a humble one nonetheless. His name is known by few, his stature in his craft appreciated only by those with the commensurate knowledge to make such fine distinctions. He has acquired no significant wealth. But he has left his mark on the world in ways big and small, visible and anonymous. I hope to do the same.

I'd argue that 95k is still pretty cheap but yeah, these sellers doing us a solid right now; their sacrifice will not be forgotten.