My Country ‘tis of Thee, Sweet Land of Liberty

Submerged in the overwhelm of a weekend long panorama of multiplicity

Content Warning: Slightly NSFW

I

America, the Land of Dauntless Innovators

I had a conversation with a good friend recently, and he asked me to give my opinion on the “state of politics” in America. This line of inquiry was out of left field coming from him, given that I know him primarily through his Ayurvedic health startup. Granted, this conversation occurred just after the Presidential assassination attempt, so mythological impulses were running high through the collective American spirit, and mythos demands interpretation.

I was into it. This meant we had reached a level of intimacy where we could talk about the mucky stuff. I can’t remember exactly what I said to answer him; something cobbled together about the nature of disruptive consciousness and how it is trying to push itself through the calcified institutions of the 20th century that have metastasized beyond any remaining salubrity.

He then pulled a surprise move on me and tried to, quite gently, convince me that RFK Jr. was a more disruptive candidate than the Big Bad Orange Man. I was a bit taken aback, not necessarily because I think he’s wrong, but because I don’t think I’ve heard anyone campaign to me on RFK’s behalf up to this point. It was a pleasant change of pace.

What a coincidence, then, that I got to hear the very candidate himself speak live, days later at Bitcoin Nashville 2024. My friend

Ryan Lackey

was generous enough to provide me with a ticket to the after-party, which justified my buying a full ticket to the rest of the event and making the hour-long drive into the Blues Capital two days in a row. After all, I’ve had a significant fraction of both BTC and ETH just sitting on its ass (and appreciating) in my Exodus wallet since 2018 – what better use case than spending 10% of it to listen to interesting takes live from famous people?

For the first time in a long time, I was quite impressed by a politician. Or, more accurately, a political speech. I’m not naïve. Or at least not as naïve as I used to be. I’m not going to pretend as if voting for RFK Jr. is a good use of my franchise, if my franchise is even politically meaningful at this point. I’m cynical enough that I don’t look toward any politician as someone who can move policy priorities in a direction that I deeply care about; unless I possess the power to hold them hostage to my agenda (a point that Edward Snowden made in his speech just a half hour before). I have enough scars from Bernie 2016 to keep myself from investing more faith in that direction.

But, I am willing to say that I enjoyed participating in the tribal rally. He stood boldly on stage, with the same family charm of all the other Kennedys, and boldly asserted that he would on Day One of his administration issue an executive order to make the U.S. Treasury start accumulating a strategic Bitcoin reserve: buying or mining 550 coins per day until we hit four million.

He asserted that stabilizing our currency against a ledgered, proof-of-work asset would sap power away from the Federal Reserve to continue runaway printing and that it would also safeguard against the increasingly fragile petrodollar. He cited the “freedom to transact” as fundamental; as important as the association and speech rights from 1A; pointing out what happened to the Canadian truckers as an example of what occurs when it is not protected.

He spent close to a full hour without tiring, hitting point after point, and bringing a solid technical analysis to each of them. I stood up many times cheering with my arms raised. I turned to the person sitting next to me, “I can’t believe this guy is 70 years old. I hope that I’m this cogent and aware when I turn 70.”

The guy sitting next to me snorted a little bit, and returned, “Yeah, wouldn’t that be great?” His hair was slicked back with so much gel that an insect could have probably gone ice-skating on it.

My overall read is that the Bitcoin ecology has been overtaken by number-go-up people who are slowly shoving out the freedom-loving pioneers. That doesn’t mean that a lot of daring isn’t still being injected into the scene, however.

Vivek, on a panel with some local Senators, encouraged businesses and federal agencies to start offering retirement plans that allow individuals to invest some portion of their pre-tax earnings into Bitcoin ETFs. On one of the side stages, I caught a snippet from a speaker on how the wearables revolution will make transacting through the lightning network much more practical.

Nymi Bitcoin Wallet

I confess I’m often disturbed by the techno-optimist fervor of the most devotional BTC Maxis. On the other hand, I find hope that anywhere I go in this country, I can find pockets of forward-looking dreamers, who won’t let that internal fire die.

II

America, the Land of Vivacious Bumpkins

I’m standing in front of one of the largest fires I’ve ever seen. The pile of wood must be at least twelve feet tall. The bright orange flames lick greedily at the fuel beneath and send scores of embers toward the darkness above. Most of the day, it was cloudy; only now have the heavens cleared up enough that their twinkling stars have become visible again.

I’m reminded of the first bonfire I ever attended – during homecoming back in my freshman year of high school. There’s something about the raging of giant flames that transfixes me. The other three elements have an inert or invisible quality to them. Fire is different; it is alive; its heart is matched only by the livelihood of the many people surrounding me on the fairground.

Do you know what an Irish Picnic is? I didn’t until this weekend.

“We call it the Hicknick,” says the man in the game booth as he hands me some balls to throw at ten glass bottles stacked in a pyramid. His voice is as gruff and calloused as his skin; his suspenders are frayed but still strong, just like his soul. “It’s our way of owning up to our rural roots. But we do know how to party hard. Stay a while and you’ll find that out.”

I have to agree. The air is invigorated beyond just a respectable wholesomeness, much of it by the wafting aroma of fried foods. Everything is fried in the South – chicken, pigs, potatoes, okra, pretzels, ice cream, Oreos – and if it isn’t, then it’s served with something fried.

Toddlers are running around gleefully in the center grounds. Some dads form little circles of 6-8 with beer and roast beef sandwiches in their hands. Ten feet away, the moms form their own circles surrounded by strollers. Across my line of sight, a group of teenagers are concentrating hard, each of the boys trying to win a gift for his girlfriend; each of whom, in turn, is looking at her boyfriend adoringly. On the other side of the grounds, the oldies are dancing irreverently to the tune of 90s country music.

I pass by a stall that sells some barbecue sauce. I hand $7 (CASH ONLY) to the lady at the window. She says she can’t tell me the secret formula. She makes up for it by instructing me on how to make some tasty shredded chicken breasts, sloppy-joe style with it.

I walk around until I run into the woman whose family homestead I sometimes labor on. She’s glad I made it here. I tell her I’ve been at a conference all day.

“I heard that was happening! Haven’t done enough research to get into all that stuff, but it sounds cool. Some impressive folks showing up.”

“You know, I’m going to hear Donald Trump speak tomorrow, right? I’m pretty excited about it. That’s half the reason I decided to go.”

She looks taken aback. Even a little hurt. “That dude is one of the worst people to be walking this planet.” I’m impressed that she manages to pack such a delicate punch of irritation into her phrasing.

“I’m not expecting anything of substance,” I retort, carefully.

The last thing I want is to raise her temperature. She’s already damp from working the carnival prize wheel booth for four hours. “He’s just such an entertainer. Knows exactly what to say to rile everyone up. It’s just a good time. May even vote for him just because of that."

“You sound like all of my husband’s friends, though thankfully not my husband. All the men in this town love him. Can’t for the life of me understand it. As for me, I hope that goes and jumps off a cliff,” she starts laughing uproariously. Her toothless grin reminds me of my grandma’s smile after being told a good joke.

“I’ve never seen people in this town act so energetic. I had the impression that most folks are dour and insular. What gives?” I ask.

She explains that this event raises half the money for the elementary school’s yearly budget. That’s why it’s such a big deal. Some families even save money all year so they can have a good time this weekend. For some of the poorer kids, this is the most exciting event they get to attend all summer.

We continue chatting for a long time. I notice my body beginning to give out even as I continue to talk animatedly.

“Your eyes are starting to sink. Maybe you oughta head home. Here, take one of these funnel cakes,” she offers.

“I didn’t win, though!”

“Nah, this one’s for having a good conversation with me.”

“Well, look, I would feel guilty without giving you some payment. I went and won this stuffed animal at the shooting gallery. I’m sure your daughter would love it, right? Give it to her.”

She beams at me and wishes me a good night and good luck. I trudge back toward my car – one of the few compact Sedans parked on a lawn full of giant Silverados and F-150s. My mind is almost completely shut down. I’m not too worried because, at this point, my body has an internal autopilot that has memorized the routes of the country backroads to get me back home.

III

America, the Land of Cultural Evolution

Google Maps says there is an eight-minute delay ahead, and asks if I want to re-route. I decline. The glowing midday sun streams gently into my car window as the magnolia trees on I-40 blur past my field of vision. There is only one area of the highway on this side of the city where I’ve noticed they grow abundantly.