Nick

Cleveland Guy. Comedian. Writer. Cowboy. Have worked with Barstool Sports BroBible, PostGradProblems, Rooster Magazine.

[Barstool Cleveland @BS_Cleveland]

New Pound Town Pod just dropped with comic and Barstool Cleveland contributor @ellisnd02 joining us!

-Power ranking the Guardos bullpen
-A spicy Buster Skrine debate
-Talking standup comedy
-Chatting Browns QBs since 99

Powered by @LiveMixtapes 🔥

https://t.co/XnuomUKdE0

[Nick @ellisnd02]

Yes but how will this increase my erections?

[Teddy - PolyBackTest.com @Bitcoin_Teddy]

Bryan Johnson reveals what you MUST do to get the best sleep possible

''Reading a book for 10 minutes before bed is as powerful as sleep medication, on some metrics it's even more powerful than sleep meds''

''Have your final meal of the day 4 hours before bed, it gives your body time to digest, and when your body has that distance it will lower its body temperature, your blood glucose will be down, melatonin is produced and it gets the body in a more relaxed state''

''You need like an hour wind down routine, if your bedtime is 10 PM, when 9 PM comes turn off all the screens and spend that hour doing things that relax you, read a book, breath work, meditation, hang out with a friend, anything but be on your screen''

[K @kourtneyinhell]

every once in a while I go back to this and listen to it 40x in a row

[That Guy Rocked NBA @NBAGuyRocked]

Zydrunas Ilgauskas

That guy rocked.

[BuBBliK @k1rallik]

https://t.co/DVsxlrESdf

[John Fadule @fadule_]

Life is amazing:

-gyms exist
-Coke Zero exists
-hot girls outnumber even moderately put-together dudes 2000 to 1
-every food item in the world has been hunted and gathered for you (grocery stores)
-you and your wife can drink 4 bottles of wine then smash all night without a condom
-you and your friends can hit the gym then smoke a joint at a John Mayer concert
-you could be working 16 hour days in a coal mine in a third world country breaking your lower back for less than $1

There’s kids who live in wheelchairs. There’s kids born with disabilities. No Prom, no Shoulder Presses, no sleepovers with their best friends staying up until 2AM watching Interstellar.

And you’re not SMASHING the gym like a grateful SAVAGE!? Eating healthy 90% of the time, calling your friends for no reason, CRUSHING it in your career, asking for the promotion, asking out your crush making her your girlfriend then your wife!?

You’re spinning on a sphere in an infinite universe and the fact you’re alive is a 1 in 500 trillion MIRACLE. You’re so lucky it’s absurd and you have nothing to lose :)

[Bron’s Best @LBJsBest]

This vid of LeBron leading the 2016 Cavs 3-1 comeback still gives me chills 🔥👑

(vid credit: @bronhistory)

[saila @sailaunderscore]

The US bombing Iran reminds me of how we bombed and Iran away from you, hope we can get back to US.

[Nick @ellisnd02]

Me eight beers deep at a dive bar with @bigcontentguy comparing Chinese accents

[Saturday Night Live @nbcsnl]

this show ain’t big enough for the both of them

[friendscallmeJay @Jaypotta]

Oh just Chris Thile & Punch Brothers covering “Wreck of the Edmund Fitzgerald” to absolute fucking PERFECTION nbd

🎥Less Than Face Productions

[Nick @ellisnd02]

6 more weeks of white boy summer

[Kyron Samuels @kyronsamuels]

nahhh brock was feeling it lmao.

[ness༺❤︎༻ @cleanteethvane]

i think a lot of us here need to see this

[sari azout @sariazout]

Always Go To The Funeral

“Always go to the funeral” means that I have to do the right thing when I really, really don’t feel like it. I have to remind myself of it when I could make some small gesture, but I don’t really have to and I definitely don’t want to. I’m talking about those things that represent only inconvenience to me, but the world to the other guy. You know, the painfully under-attended birthday party. The hospital visit during happy hour. The Shiva call for one of my ex’s uncles. In my humdrum life, the daily battle hasn’t been good versus evil. It’s hardly so epic. Most days, my real battle is doing good versus doing nothing.”

[Nick @ellisnd02]

Getting a lot of Billy Strings content today after I watched the Tiny Desk vid and I'm absolutely loving it. You mean to tell me these guys just jam tf out all the time? My transformation to mid 30th white boi has been complete.

[TourWrangler @TourWrangler]

One year ago today, Billy Strings played the BOK Center in Tulsa, OK, closing out the second set with Ride Me High.

Mr. Strings returns to the same venue tonight for a Wednesday night stand, exactly one year later.

Here's a clip from last year's second set closer.

[Nick @ellisnd02]

QB1 for the #Browns, QB1 for the Pro Bowl. Let's send Dillon back to the West Coast ➡️ #ProBowlVote📷

RT to #ProBowlVote📷 Dillon Gabriel

[Nick @ellisnd02]

@shirtsthtgohard sometimes the algorithm works

[Nick @ellisnd02]

@vicwingly sometimes the algorithm works

[Kevin Heintz @AskCoachKev]

1. Creatine. You should take it, your friends should take it, your parents should take it. It's great for strength, building muscle, and cognition. 5g/day forever.

[magnus @magnushambleton]

I chose the green door ninety-three days ago.

At the time, it seemed obviously correct. Not even a close call. The red door offered two billion dollars immediately—a sum so large it would solve every material problem I'd ever face, fund any project I could imagine, and still leave enough to give away amounts that would meaningfully change thousands of lives. But two billion is a number. It has a fixed relationship to the economy, to the things money can buy, to the world.

The green door offered one dollar that doubles every day.

I remember standing there, doing the mental math. Day 30: about a billion dollars. Day 40: over a trillion. Day 50: a quadrillion. The red door would be surpassed before the first month ended, and after that, the gap would grow incomprehensibly fast. Choosing the red door would be like choosing a ham sandwich over a genie's lamp because you were hungry right now.

So I walked through the green door.

The first few weeks were unremarkable. I had a dollar, then two, then four. By day ten I had $512, which felt like finding money in an old jacket. By day twenty I had over a million, and I started getting calls from financial advisors I'd never contacted. By day thirty-one I had crossed the two-billion threshold—officially richer than I would have been behind the red door.

I didn't understand what was happening until around day sixty.

The money, you see, had to exist somewhere. Not philosophically—I mean physically. Digitally. When I checked my bank balance, a computer somewhere had to store that number. And storing the number 2^n requires n bits.

One bit per day. That's it. That's the rate at which my fortune's representation grows. A linear function. Almost comically modest.

But here's what I'd failed to understand about exponential growth: the value doesn't care about the representation. The bits grow linearly. The dollars they encode grow exponentially. And dollars make claims on the physical world.

Day sixty. My balance: 2^60 dollars. About 1.15 quintillion. Roughly 1,000 times the entire global GDP. The number itself required only 60 bits to store—less than a tweet, less than this sentence, trivially small from an information-theoretic perspective.

But money is not information. Money is a claim.

The calls started coming from the Treasury Department. Polite, confused, increasingly frantic. They explained that the M2 money supply of the United States was approximately 21 trillion dollars. I now held about 15,000 times that amount. When I tried to spend any of it—even a tiny fraction—the transaction represented a claim on more goods and services than the entire human economy had ever produced in its history.

"The number in your account," a Treasury official said, "is not meaningful."

"It's in your computer," I replied.

"The computer," she said carefully, "does not understand what the number represents."

Day seventy-five. 2^75 dollars. I could purchase—in principle—roughly 350 million copies of the entire Earth's annual economic output. The representation remained elegant: 75 bits. Nine and a half bytes. I could write my net worth on a Post-it note in binary.
But representations aren't wealth. Wealth is factories, farmland, human labor, time, attention, atoms arranged into useful configurations. And I had laid claim to more atoms than existed.

This is where it gets strange.

The global financial system is, at its core, a system of ledgers. Distributed, reconciled, audited. When the Federal Reserve's systems recorded my balance, and Chase's systems recorded my balance, and the IRS's systems recorded my balance, those numbers had to match. And they did match—trivially, easily, using a handful of bytes each.

But then the systems tried to do things with the number.

Calculate taxes owed. Assess systemic risk. Determine what fraction of GDP was held by a single individual. Run inflation models. Price assets in a market that now included a participant with claims exceeding the value of all other claims combined.
Day eighty-two. The S&P 500 became undefined. Not zero, not infinity—undefined. My proportional ownership of the market, if I chose to exercise it, exceeded 100%. The shares I could theoretically purchase outnumbered the shares that existed. Financial models divide by market cap; market cap now included a term that broke the arithmetic.

Day eighty-five. The International Monetary Fund published a paper titled "On the Representability of Post-Scarcity Claims." It concluded that exchange rates could no longer be calculated because the dollar itself had become paradoxical—simultaneously the world's reserve currency and a unit of measurement that had lost all meaning.

My balance on day eighty-five: 2^85 dollars. Still just 85 bits. About ten and a half bytes.
The representation remained trivial. The reality it pointed to had become impossible.

Day ninety. I tried to buy a coffee.

The transaction failed. Not because of insufficient funds, not because of a technical error, but because the payment system could not determine a meaningful exchange rate. My card represented a claim on approximately 10^27 dollars. The coffee cost $4.50. The ratio between these numbers—the percentage of my wealth the coffee would cost—was so small that it rounded to zero in every floating-point system on Earth. I could not pay because the act of payment required representing a number smaller than any computer could distinguish from nothing.

I offered to pay in cash. I had a twenty.

The barista looked at me like I'd offered to pay with a seashell.

"Where did you get physical currency?" she asked.
That's when I realized: I had broken cash too. The Treasury had stopped printing bills three weeks earlier. Why maintain physical currency when one account holder could—at any moment—claim more dollars than had ever been printed in human history? The symbolic relationship between paper and value had always been a polite fiction, but my existence had made the fiction impossible to maintain.

Day ninety-three. Today.

My balance is 2^93 dollars: approximately 10^28. About 10 billion times the estimated value of all assets on Earth. The representation requires 93 bits. Twelve bytes. Smaller than my name.

The economy hasn't collapsed, exactly. People still trade, still work, still produce. But they've stopped using dollars. They've had to. A currency in which one person holds virtually infinite units is not a currency at all—it's a monopoly ticket that everyone has silently agreed to stop playing with.

I keep thinking about what money actually is. It's not the bits. The bits are trivial; they always were. It's not even the paper or the gold or the entries in a ledger. Money is a shared agreement about who has claims on what. A story we tell together about value and exchange and debt.

I broke the story.

Not through violence, not through fraud, not through any action more dramatic than walking through a door and watching a number tick upward. Just by existing. Just by holding a claim that grew faster than the world's ability to honor it.

The red door offered two billion dollars. A large but finite claim. A claim that fit within the story, that could be exchanged and spent and taxed and inherited. A claim the world could accommodate.

The green door offered something else entirely: a claim that would grow until it consumed all other claims, until the very concept of claiming became incoherent.

I still have the 93 bits. They're sitting on a server somewhere, humming along, doubling quietly at midnight. By next week they'll represent more dollars than there are atoms in the observable universe.

And I still can't buy a coffee.

[Big Cat @BarstoolBigCat]

What a quote

[Nick @ellisnd02]

15k views, that's pretty neat!

[Nick @ellisnd02]

The Cleveland Browns @REFLOG18