Butttopia: Excerpts from a diary written in paradise

Oktober 21 2024

Dear diary,

Today was a good day. I took a Uber to court today for just 200 satoshi. My pro bono lawyer convincingly argued I shouldn’t be forced to pay back the 24 Bitcoin Strontium coins I have no access to due to my failure to withdraw my Bitcoin from the exchange in time before the fork occurred. Everyone knows Bitcoin Gold is the closest imaginable functional implementation of Satoshi’s original vision, after Bitcoin Cash and Bitcoin Core fifty-one’d each other out of existence. I expect I’ll be able to pay back the Gold I borrowed within twenty years and I’m pretty sure Bitcoin Strontium will prove to be little more than just another passing fad. I’d like to write some more, but I just noticed my lightning channel with the grocery store finally confirmed!

December 17 2025

Dear diary,

Today my mailbox was finally nailed shut. Sending and receiving packages in the mail is no longer allowed in our municipality, I’m expected to pay my taxes and all of my bills online from now on. The “Christmas season exception” some libertarians were arguing for had no majority support, as fentanyl overdoses apparently spike during the days between Christmas and New Years Eve.

I will agree, the problem is pretty serious. Housing prices are starting to drop, as we don’t have sufficient people left alive to live in them. Who could have thought, injecting heroin is more fun than a 9 to 5 programming job? Even the dorky kid with no friends who spends his days playing video games can now find whatever he wants to try out online.

Back in my days, kids like that had no access to drugs. I should know, I was one of them.¬†You had to know a kid who did drugs, who had to know a dealer. The dealer needed connections to get his supply, but today the only connection your dealer really needs is an internet connection. How did Chinese fentanyl factories come into contact with Detroit hoodlums before the online markets? I guess they didn’t. I tried to get high on life once, but I had a weak strain. From now on, I choose fentanyl.

June 14 2026

Dear diary,

I applied for fifteen different jobs today, but it’s still not really clear to me what I’m going to do when the block reward halves and our mining farm shuts down. I really enjoyed wiping dust off ASIC miners and fixing broken wires in the middle of rural Iceland for the past two years of my life, but our mine barely breaks even as it stands. I can’t expect to work here for much longer, when we’ll be spending three satoshi on electricity for every two satoshi we mine in August.

I thought about applying for a job at the local power plant, but then I realized the power plant itself is shutting down, as we are its main customer. It’s funny, I caught the bus driver looking for a new job on his phone too. I hope he doesn’t quit before he drives me to the airport though. I heard there’s a new Biomass-to-Bits plant opening in Papua New Guinea though, so I think I might just spend the next four years of my life there!

March 21 2027

Dear diary,

Today was a tough day. I had to come to terms with the reality that I’m probably never going to retire. I had always assumed the Cryptolife investment fund would continue accruing 2% interest every year for the rest of my life. I don’t think I deserve any blame for not anticipating that a group of nihilist terrorists would fly a bunch of weaponized drones into the board room one day, take everyone hostage and forcibly send the fund’s entire 6000 BTC in savings to 1BitcoinEaterAddressDontSendf59kuE, before disappearing into thin air again.

I’ll simply start over and work harder from now on. I had to start over after Pirateat40 screwed us over. I crawled into a corner of my room with Carlos Matos by my side when Bitconnect fell apart. Everytime something went wrong in my life, I learned a lesson and grew stronger as a result. I’ll look back at this one day and laugh about it. I will. I’m sure about it.

June 13 2028

Dear diary,

I received a letter in the mail today from my son. He says he can’t see me again, because he’d be a danger to our family. I’m not sure how I should feel about the fact that my son set up a deadman’s switch in case the people he screwed ever find him.

I’d love to say I’m angry at him, but there’s not really an alternative career path available to him of course, I’ll readily admit that. He could get a real job and end up paying a 60% income tax, as the government can’t levy taxes over the half of the population who simply send coins back and forth between each other as salary and pay no VAT. If you look at it that way, I get that he doesn’t really have a choice. I do think he’s exaggerating though, when he says ten year old girls can be sold for higher prices than teenagers. He’s probably just using the wrong dark net market.

March 11 2030

Dear diary,

So this is how the world ends. Not with a whimper, but with a 90 year old dead widow who figured out long ago what her eccentric husband was engaged in before he had his strokes and slipped into a coma 19 years earlier. I’m not exactly sure why any of this had to happen from a metaphysical perspective, but the Belfast cat sanctuary is now rumored to own a nuclear button for the world’s global economic system. I don’t have much time to write, as I notice a crowd is forming around the doors of the local supermarket. I thought I would have some more time to stock up on candles and stored food, but I’ll have to hurry. Catch you later!

 

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