Culture

Vote With Your Feet: A Short Story

Published

1 month ago

August 12, 2024

“Give me liberty, or give me death!” Ben James said, poking the air with his fork to emphasize. I smiled back at my husband as he enjoyed the steak I’d grilled in the backyard. He was telling me about the second Citadel he wanted to create, this one affiliated with us, run like ours, but on Mars. We had enough wealth from his father’s early Bitcoin purchases to create multiple cities if we wanted to. And Ben James wanted to.

I looked over at our daughter, Marla, dutifully whipping up sandwiches for her brothers before they came home; she was beautiful, the sun shining behind her long hair as a breeze blew through our kitchen windows and gently rustled her sundress in the hot summer air, her apron accentuating her slender waist. We made eye contact, deep understanding and knowing passing between us. My youngest daughter, 6 year old Eloise, sat at the table doing her reading homework.

In Ben James’ citadel, every child was home schooled. Some of us moms cooperated to lighten the load, teaching another’s children for a year or two, then switching it up.

“They say Mars is like the Old West,” Marla said. I turned away, knowing before either spoke another word how this conversation would go. “Survival is so difficult that women must be willing to act like men, to do everything men do, whether because there’s so much to do or because the men die.”

Ben James set down his fork, eyebrow raised as he assessed her. “Perhaps those boys just haven’t figured out how to be masculine yet,” he said. “That behavior would not be tolerated on my citadel on Mars any more than it is here. No woman of mine will ever work for another man. I won’t have whores in my family, or in my Citadel.”

Marla got a sly look on her face. “So what does that make the men working for other men?” she quipped slyly. “Didn’t you used to work for—“

Ben James’ chair made a painful screech on the floor as he exploded to his feet. My husband and my teenage daughter stared each other down, and I wanted to grab her arm, pull her back, tell her to stop being a rebellious and impulsive child. In a Citadel, the word of the Sovereign was law. And he could exile you, or worse, on a whim.

“You’re a young, chaotic woman,” he said quietly. “You cannot understand how the worlds work. You have everything you need. As a family, we are free from the tyrannies of the State. And you are lucky enough to be where you belong. Women are most happy in the home, cooking, working with children. I will hear no more of this foolishness.”

“Yes, yes, Bitcoin gives Freedom,” Marla smiled. “Without freedom, better death.” In a way only a teenager could, she grinned deviously at him, mouth pursed, and went back superciliously to finishing the sandwiches. “I do so love spreading mayonnaise on slices of bread while my brothers are out shopping for rockets to a far away planet.”

“GET OUT!” Ben James shouted.

“Gladly.”

Marla left, smugly dropping the knife on the unfinished sandwiches.

I sighed, looking at him sympathetically. “She’ll learn,” I said.

“Jeremy was here yesterday,” he said.

“Oh?” I asked, my heart starting to speed.

“He would like to marry her.”

I brightened my eyes with excitement. “He would bring her into line.”

“Indeed. A few more years and his Bitcoin holdings will be enough for a small Citadel of his own. No city, but certainly a small town or large ranch, housing a dozen other families. He would run it extremely well.”

My four sons all ran into the home at the same time; 7 year old Jared, 13 year old Bo, and the 17 year old twins, Jackson and Luke.

Ben James smiled broadly and sat back down at his steak. “Finish their sandwiches,” he told me.

I laughed good-naturedly and turned with a smile to the counter, and got to work finishing their food.

Ben James had approval in his voice. “That, boys, is a good woman! Never ask a woman to make you anything for dinner; you must tell her. If she says no, walk away. If she complains about how you ordered her, find another woman. A fundamental test of a woman’s quality.”

I handed my sons their meals, and asked Luke how the day had gone.

He smiled at me. “A bunch of stuff you wouldn’t understand,” he told me lovingly.

I thought about my days before the war broke out, before society had broken down into anarchy, when I had been in school learning how to build the very rockets he was likely looking at purchasing. He had no idea how they ran.

But Ben James always said making rockets would never fulfill me. It was in the home that my happiness was. I smiled at my four boys and Eloise, at my husband. Those days, full of curiosity and problem-solving, were behind me. The riches of my father-in-law made it possible for me to be truly happy here, in this home, without the dopamine rushes of intellectual and engineering problems solved each day.

I had married Ben James to survive, the way women had done since the dawn of time. He was my provider and protector. He had taught me a lot, and his passion for self-sovereignty had infected me.

My eyes rested on the quote framed in the living room. “I don’t believe we shall ever have a good money again before we take the thing out of the hands of government, that is, we can’t take it violently out of the hands of government, all we can do is by some sly roundabout way introduce something that they can’t stop.”

Bitcoin. The tool that had equalized the power dynamics between the powerful and the ruled. The means of freedom for millions of people. The great uplifter.

I smiled.

When Ben James sat Marla down the next day and told her she was to marry Jeremy, I was impressed at her stillness. She did not flinch, did not even glance in my direction. She stared blankly at the floor for several seconds. After a moment she got a small smile on her face and looked Ben James directly in the eyes. “Father.” She blinked. “You’ve always taught me so much.”

He looked taken aback. “And?”

She shrugged. “That’s all. I want you to know that despite everything, I’ve taken it to heart.”

He looked at me, bemused. But then told her, “You’re to be married in two months, once all the wedding details are arranged. You and your mother will work it out.”

Marla finally looked at me. There was a new seriousness on her face I had never seen before. But I understood; she was ready.

I’d been preparing for this wedding day for years and the pieces finally fell easily into place; purchasing and packing up clothing for her honeymoon, transferring the money her father had saved as a dowry to new UTXOs, ready to join funds with her husband. My daughter was prosperous, rich enough to own her own land, a great deal of it.

My husband saw the charge to the airline later in the day. “I see you got her honeymoon tickets, a little pricey.”

I grimaced. “I wanted them to fly private.”

“It’s ok, I should’ve done it. I know women don’t really like finances. It’s not your fault they overcharged you.”

I shrugged, remembering the first time he had hit me; I’d spent money on a plane ticket, planning a trip to visit my friends. He had made it clear that women traveling alone for fun always lead to affairs and evil, especially when going with their female friends. Later he had explained that wanting to visit my mother was equally taboo. I knew that after marrying Jeremy, Marla would not be coming to visit anymore. She would stay home with her children even if Jeremy visited Ben James.

Two months later, everything was ready. “We’ll meet you at the church,” I told Ben James. My eyes landed on the framed quote once more. “Some sly roundabout way.”

The boys headed to the bachelor party while Marla, Jared, and Eloise piled into the car while I put Marla’s honeymoon suitcase in the trunk. We were to meet at the chapel that evening for the wedding. Marla and I smiled at each other as Ben James and my older sons drove away.

We got into the car. Two hours later we reached our destination, and grabbed her suitcase, which held clothes for myself, Eloise, and the two young children. In my head and Marla’s as well were the same twelve words. We hurried to the private airplane awaiting us, and the pilot stepped forward himself to meet us and verify our four discounted tickets, before escorting us into the interior. We were in the air ten minutes later.

__________________________

We’d been living in Rockson Citadel for six years. It had taken an entire two years for Ben James to find us. He quickly realized that we had fled to a small nation that was far more prosperous than he was. There was nothing he could do to get us back. I had my own Bitcoin that he had never known anything about, enough to flee, to hire protection, and he could not reach us. Soon I was taking part in the prosperity of Rockson, no longer in a Citadel with the brainpower of only 50% of its population, only able to purchase rundown rockets, but in Rockson, a society that built new ones and created innovation. I added my insatiable curiosity and joy of discovery, my brain power, to everyone else’s, contributing to society and the rocket industry. My many female colleagues worked with the men, and our combined brain power had us light years ahead of tiny backward Citadels like Ben James’. Our weaponry alone could wipe his city off the planet before he’d have time to point that angry finger of his in judgment.

My daughter married Jason, and they were expecting their second of hopefully many children. He continued to work as an engineer in the oil industry, and Marla had a remote job at home, tutoring university students in physics while staying home full time with the toddler. She had earned her bachelor’s degree with his support, and during her University studies he had stayed home to watch the kids when needed. She was now taking online courses for her graduate degree. They also had a thriving artwork following, painting each morning and selling the pieces at a hefty price, the shared passion that had brought them together in the beginning. Every evening the three of them ate dinner together, and any time I wanted to stop by I was welcomed with open arms.

By the time I remarried, Ben James was a distant punchline of jokes.

My husband, Henry, would say, “I can’t believe he knew that Bitcoin would give power and freedom to men to vote with their feet, but couldn’t foresee it would give women the same power with men.”

Marla would add, “He actually thought we’d all go back to traditional roles for women, stuck at home, being told by him what we like, what we want.”

I’d laugh, Henry’s arm wrapped happily around me. “Our freedom means men have to be better to be chosen by us—we have the means to flee, to thrive, to have the power to pick who is best for us.” Cheekily, I added, “Men must put in more proof of work.”

Henry hugged me tighter. “We are better men due to the motivation. Sounds like a net positive to society to me.”

Marla smiled gleefully. “Give me liberty, or give me death.”

This is a guest post by Ninja Grandma. Opinions expressed are entirely their own and do not necessarily reflect those of BTC Inc or Bitcoin Magazine.

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Culture

“PickleBit”: Proof of Workforce, Fold, and Pickle Pop Partner on Pickleball Tournament, Offer Bitcoin Prize Pool

Published

4 hours ago

September 18, 2024

admin

The Santa Monica-based non-profit Proof of Workforce Foundation has partnered with Bitcoin financial services company Fold and Pickle Pop to organize a Bitcoin-themed Pickleball tournament, offering a $5,000 prize pool for entrants and winners.

The tournament is slated to be held on October 18 in Santa Monica, California during the Peer to Pier Bitcoin Festival. Featuring both a semi-pro and amateur division, the winner of each division will receive their payouts in bitcoin. Entrants will also have the opportunity to win Bitcoin hardware wallet devices provided by CoinKite.

“This will be an incredible event, bringing together two talented and high growth communities, Bitcoiners and Pickleballers, to support creative re-use of commercial space on the 3rd street promenade”, said Proof of Workforce Founder and Santa Monica firefighter Dom Bei.

Earlier this year, Bei’s Foundation partnered with the City of Santa Monica to launch the Santa Monica Bitcoin Office, making it the first U.S. city to do so.

“The Santa Monica Bitcoin Office is already bringing communities and revenue opportunities to key areas of our economic revitalization strategy, and has done so at zero cost to the city”, said City of Santa Monica Vice Mayor Lana Negrete. “This is exciting and an example of collaborative and innovative ideas to reimagine retail on 3rd Street.”

Brian Harrington, Senior Marketing Manager at Fold, added:

“I’ve loved seeing the Bitcoin community grow in Southern California over the years and what the city of Santa Monica is doing with it is amazing.”

Participants can register for the tournament on the PickleBit tournament website, where they will also receive bitcoin rewards for signing up and playing in the tournament.

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Culture

Un Ode de l’Provocateur du Bitcoin

Published

1 week ago

September 10, 2024

admin

Out of the ashes emerged a snarling rodent dubbed Max Punk.

Open conflict, Whales besting Bored-Apes, the social layer manifest.

Bitcoin leaders sent to prison, then freed by massive strike waves.

HODL’ers fighting in the streets, power cuts, three-day work weeks, Maxi’s battling for Hashrates, governments brought down, Central Banks crying.

The Banksters powerless.

The Orange-Pilled class – loud, stacked and toxic.

L’ Provocateur don’t stand downwind from sh%#tcoins.

Max Punk smells of victory not of FOMO.

An Orange sky at night traverses’ seas of fiat to El Salvador dreams, not NFT nightmares.

Un Bukele ami très explosif.

Promoting Bitcoin thru absurdist and provocative actions,

a means of enacting monetary change.

Proof of ‘work[ers]’ never strike.

God won’t save the dollar, the regime.

Fiat makes you a moron, a potential Elon-bomb.

L’ Provocateur don’t stand downwind from sh%#tcoins.

Max Punk smells of victory not of FOMO.

An Orange sky at night traverses’ seas of fiat to El Salvador dreams, not NFT nightmares.

Un Bukele ami très explosif.

Orange shoes and garb only taunts the volcanos.

Consuming sats, not the FUD.

And there ain’t no future ‘cept with Bitcoin.

…In your dreaming Laser eyes!

This is a guest post by Enza Coin. Opinions expressed are entirely their own and do not necessarily reflect those of BTC Inc or Bitcoin Magazine.

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Culture

Bitcoiners and Wobblies: Labor Day Edition

Published

2 weeks ago

September 2, 2024

admin

Recently, I’ve been reading about the foundations of the American Labor Movement. Specifically, the birth of the Industrial Workers of the World and a group called the Wobblies, a nickname given to IWW Members. At its peak, the IWW had over 150,000 members in 1917, with global memberships and significant power and influence. While the IWW was a socialist leaning organization in theory, many of its core values were intertwined into the DNA of the American Labor movement, and was undeniably pivotal to the development of organized labor and a strong working class following the industrial revolution. The parallels between some of the IWW’s origins and ideologies and Bitcoin are significant, and shall be demonstrated with quotes rather than boring you to death with in depth history.

All quotes are attributed to the book “Wobblies: A Graphic History of The Industrial Workers of the World (Buhle/Schulman.

Origins and Genesis

“No one can say exactly where the inspiration for the IWW came from. The origins are too numerous both in the U.S. and abroad…”

Similarly, the nickname of the Wobblies, has no clear origin. Naturally, some of the mythology around Bitcoin comes to mind, and while Bitcoin’s origins are clearly documented via white paper and email communications, its creator or creators is or are shrouded in mystery. As Bitcoin caught gained popularity, its growth was decentralized and organic. In another parallel, while the IWW and American Labor Movement had prior inspirations, it was a pioneer in the sense of organizing labor across ethnic, gender, religious and other demographic differences.

“After the Civil War, massive industry grew up faster than anyone could have imagined, with previously unthinkable wealth accruing to the bankers but with millions of desperately poor working people, employed at low wages or unemployed in the frequent economic recessions”

From the financial crisis, to post-covid wealth accumulation within the ranks of billionaires, to a current AI, robotics and self-automation boom underway, this story is all too familiar. However, recessions have been all but outlawed, replaced by government intervention, currently placing systems as large as Pensions and Social Security on the equivilant of government welfare and dependence.

Wobblies and Bitcoiners

“The Wobbly, male or female, Asian or Occidental, black, brown, red or white, was only an ordinary human being in physique”

We feel the same about Bitcoiners. We have all met some of the most inspiring people in our lives in this space. It is both the character, grit and determination that allows individuals to discover and understand Bitcoin, as well as the character building journey a Bitcoiner must take to fully grasp Bitcoin and share it with a world that rounds out what many of us believe is the most talented and motivated communities in the world.

“Their story was collaborative, collective, not reliant on any one hero or heroine-as heroic (or tragic) as individual Wobblies lives might be.”

Kill your heroes. Death to Ego. Bitcoin doesn’t need any of us.

Solidarity: A movement greater than the individual

“The world of the Wobblies was one realized in its best moments by solidarity across race, ethnic, gender and nationality lines”

The beauty of Bitcoin is it requires no trust between those who transact with each other. And in doing such, Bitcoin allows humans to deconstruct the daily head to toe analysis we perform on each other daily; an analysis that instinctually calls out our differences, with roots in paranoia and fear. While blind solidarity amongst Bitcoiners is the antithesis of “dont trust, verify,” there is a strong natural bond between Bitcoiners. I believe the future of Bitcoin, when facing its largest tests ahead, will very much depend upon a deepened solidarity between those who subscribe to Bitcoin’s Genesis, core values, and blind commitment to being honest, true and trustless.

AFL vs. Knights of Labor

“The earliest mass movement for an eight hour workday during 1885-86, highlighted the different roles of two kinds of labor movements. The American Federation of Labor, founded in 1883, sought to organize skilled workers (almost entirely white and male) only…whereas the Knights of Labor, founded in 1869 as a secret society..extended its membership to almost all workers (except Chinese), including African-Americans and women.”

The AFL and its exclusive country club brand of membership outlasted the ultimate demise of the Knights of Labor and still exists today as the AFL-CIO. In reading about the different philosophies of the AFL and Knights of Labor it brings up parallels within the Bitcoin community, frequently heard criticisms of Bitcoin Maxi’s, as well as Bitcoin v. Crypto. I leave you the reader to draw your own thoughts here, as parallels are in their nature loose affiliations at best.

The Movement

“In the industrially advanced United States, the working class had been prepared ready to assume control of society and to replace “politics” and the “State” with a government of direct rule. As Marx had pointed out about the Paris Commune (and Lenin would repeat for the Soviets), the existing government apparatus could not be infiltrated and taken over piece-meal; it had to be dissolved and repalced by a truly democratic, modern form of government”

There are two camps of thought in Bitcoin, one that calls for a full collapse of the current financial system, and migration to a Bitcoin Standard, and another that insists Bitcoin can co-exist with and even surpass the current financial system without the latters’ collapse. While money is not identical to government in this parallel, the amount in which money is entrenched in the legacy financial system, is prodigious, and this always sparks interesting debate between Bitcoiners.

“For the IWW..the familiar problem of the socialist movement being notoriously small in the US could be solved in a new way. ‘Educating’ workers into becoming socialists, through newspapers, speeches and election campaigns, was too passive and not very successful. Workers needed to educate themselves, in and through their own actions and self-organization.”

Some opposing parallels here. Immediately, I think of a core value of Bitcoiners, which is that, no one can walk this path for you. Proof of Work can not be sidestepped or bypassed. No individual or group can cheat the quest for knowledge, both about Bitcoin and the system it sits poised to replace. The Bitcoin journeys of individuals and membership-based orgs, absent continuous learning and education, often end up in loss or disappointment. Those who do the work, find that their knowledge of money blossoms, and few if any have ever turned back after coming to deeply understand Bitcoin.

Simultaneously, my mind shifts to the oligarchy’s attempts at no less than a 10 year negative media blitz on all things Bitcoin. It slowed the train but it did not work. The other day, I randomly asked people at the 3rd Street promenade in Santa Monica, to share their thoughts on Bitcoin. Overwhelmingly positive, and having some foundation in accuracy. The movement to dissuade people from finding Bitcoin was a delay of the inevitable at best. Because nothing can stop an idea whose time has come.

Conclusions

On this labor day, I gaze upon the deeply polarized two party political system of the dominant world power today. And as I see labor unions align with one party, at the expense of creating division within their ranks, I see a labor movement that has drifted from its original foundation. While the IWW rose and fell, its pinnacle represented an unwavering movement, a solidarity and commitment to the worker above everything else. And there is power in that. I see parallels today in Bitcoin.

The core principles of Bitcoin transcend our differences and are worth fighting for. At Proof of Workforce, our method of fighting for these values is through education-based Bitcoin adoption for workers, unions, pension funds and municipalities. And in doing so, we are sharing not just bitcoin the asset, or Bitcoin the Network, we are communicating the Genesis of Bitcoin and its values, so that they may not be lost in the progression of time.

Finally, Bitcoin is a natural evolution of the labor movement, sharing many similarities and parallels. However, unlike the labor movement, the worker can rely on Bitcoin, absent any allegiance to any political party, leader or oligarchy. And in this sense, Bitcoin and its system of values stands to be adopted by unions all over the world. And in doing so, unions around the world can become re-aligned to their Genesis Story. A story where solidarity comes above all, a story where workers come together to hold onto the very productive property dependent upon their labor. A story where, as many workers stand to be phased out of relevance due to automation and AI, the unions representing them look forward and claim ownership of the most accessible and promising productive property available to them today; Bitcoin.

This is a guest post by Dom Bei. Opinions expressed are entirely their own and do not necessarily reflect those of BTC Inc or Bitcoin Magazine.

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