My dear fellow,
The truly comic part is not whether BTC is a Ponzi. It is.
The truly comic part is watching someone construct an entire argument upon a number he pulled from the financial equivalent of a séance.
> "Satoshi holds 1,096,361 bitcoins."
How delightful.
The anonymous creator has apparently remained hidden for nearly two decades, defeated intelligence agencies, journalists, academics, corporations, governments, and private investigators alike.
Yet somehow Barry from Crypto Twitter knows the exact contents of his wallet to the nearest coin.
One imagines him peering into the blockchain like an elderly fortune teller examining tea leaves.
"Yes... yes... the spirits reveal precisely 1,096,361..."
The extraordinary thing is that nobody pauses to ask the obvious question.
How do you know?
Not suspect.
Not estimate.
Know.
The answer, of course, is that he doesn't.
Nobody does.
The number exists because a collection of analysts made assumptions about early mining patterns, clustered addresses together, and then other people repeated the estimate so often that it became holy scripture.
A guess repeated a thousand times becomes "common knowledge."
A guess repeated ten thousand times becomes "fact."
A guess repeated a hundred thousand times becomes "everyone knows."
Twitter has elevated this process into a scientific method.
The post therefore boils down to:
"I know exactly how many coins an anonymous person controls despite not knowing who the anonymous person is."
At that point the discussion has already left economics and entered theology.
The rest is merely decoration.
The funniest thing about cryptocurrency culture is that people who claim to distrust authority will unquestioningly believe any number provided by another man with a profile picture and a blue tick.
The medieval church sold relics.
Crypto Twitter sells certainty.
The business model is remarkably similar.
You bought BTC and thought you had bought Bitcoin. That is the funny part.
Nobody is laughing because someone bought a speculative asset. People speculate every day. Some even manage not to buy the whole way down while congratulating themselves for their financial genius.
The laughter is for the people who bought a ticker, inherited a slogan, and still cannot tell the difference between a price chart and a working monetary system.
Bitcoin was electronic cash. It was meant for transactions, settlement, commerce, micropayments, scale, and utility. BTC became a museum token with a fee market, a priesthood, and a crowd of bagholders calling inactivity “sound money.”
There is a simple rule here, though it seems to defeat many: price is not utility. Scarcity theatre is not commerce. Hoarding is not a payment system. A thing going up does not prove it works, and a thing falling while you buy more of it does not make you early; it may simply mean you are providing exit liquidity with religious enthusiasm.
So yes, congratulations. You bought something called BTC. You may even have made money, or perhaps you bought on the way down and called it conviction, as people often do when arithmetic has become emotionally inconvenient.
But you did not understand Bitcoin.
You bought the souvenir and mistook yourself for the architect.
@neolha@CsTominaga@degrader93@BitcoinEsVe you should probably read cw's substack on this
https://t.co/xVJJC7RV6K
a single sat does not divid but you can use the channel with sighashs to draw out the settlement using just one sat token as if you had many and many more
money has been dumb for 5,000 years 🧐
shells. coins. paper. databases. all just numbers sitting still 🐚
programmable money is the first time money does something
it doesn't sit. it executes. it doesn't wait. it decides.
henceforth 🟠
Three surfaces, one primitive — how Henceforth implements Bitcoin's original peer-to-peer payment design.
Eight payments, one transaction, one Face ID. On-chain.
https://t.co/1vKlHto1n9
“Transactions in Henceforth
Three surfaces, one primitive — from a single tap to a batched eight-recipient settlement to a raw-hex hand-off across an air gap.”