The Bitcoin Conference is Decadent and Depraved
I got off the plane 90 minutes before midnight and no one spoke as I walked with my head down from the gate to the pick up area. My mask came off as I deplaned and entered Florida. The air was thick and hot, like I suppose Florida always is in the summer months, but I felt that I had wandered into a sauna and braced myself for the coming heat. When I finally found my brother’s car, waiting in the airport traffic, I threw my bags into the trunk, got into the passenger seat and demanded that we leave the condo in Palm Beach by 8AM the next day to arrive in Miami before 10, right when the Bitcoin Conference was getting underway. He wanted to leave at 11AM and we settled at 9 and drove out to the only restaurant whose kitchen was still open, got a boat of sushi and a few Coronas.
We took the Florida turnpike, road i95 South, listened to the GPS and glanced at the signage that guided us to Miami beach, all the while, listening to the Scarface soundtrack to make us feel like part of the underbelly culture of this mysterious port at the tip of America. This Cuban satellite city. I blasted Rick Ross and surprisingly, my brother did not complain as I assumed he would. Something about the thick dark voice of an overweight drug pusher grunting and growling gets the adrenaline kicked into high gear. And once those high rise buildings on the water start to become visible, once those boat ports and cars pulled over on the shoulder with jet skis zooming on the flat blue water, once you’re officially in Miami, something about the natural order of society starts to dissolve. It’s one of the few places on the planet where every waking second feels like Saturday night.
The conference was in Wynwood and we got a parking spot not far from the entrance.
The convergence of my digital world, the place where I had spent the better part of the last 15 months, quarantined in Los Angeles, learning about bitcoin, refreshing the price, downloading digital wallets, listening to podcasts, youtube videos, tutorials, studying meme pages, trading exchanges. Never actually knowing if the people inside the screens were real. If bitcoin was real. If the whole saga had been a dream, it had nipped and pulled at my emotions, making me temporarily rich then plummeting my net worth. I bought a little bit of bitcoin every day for almost a year. We call that dollar cost averaging. I convinced some of my closest friends to buy as well. My family members too. All had gotten in because of me and every time the price fluctuated, violently swinging to the up or downside, I was contacted by the group who had bought on my recommendation.
The tickets to the conference were over $1500 and neither my brother nor myself were willing to fork out that cash to get in. Instead we wandered the surrounding area, poking in and out of coffee shops. The conference looked majestic. I could hear the familiar voices of crypto gurus spewing their wisdom. I could see balloons and party hats, the vibrant glow and sheer elation of everyone who had a wrist band.
We made our way into the Wynwood Arts District. My brother had his cube in hand. His cube is a Geobender, it’s a magical and medicinal object that morphs and forms into over 75 different shapes. He has dedicated his life to this cube and as a result developed wizard-like skills at the art of geo bending. This can be attractive to a certain type of onlooker. One in desperate need of a fidget toy or a means of distraction. We walked into a high end clothing shop where I bought a belt for $50 and my brother sold the belt salesman a cube right on the spot. This lifted his spirit and soured mine. Who was he to sell Geobenders at the bitcoin conference?
We went out for barBq and he sat across from me looking hurt and confused. Not knowing how he was going to digest his meal. I decided to call a friend’s younger brother who I knew was in attendance. A respectable young man named Jeremy who had worked on the deal that allowed crypto currency to be purchased through PayPal. He said that he had an extra ticket and should be able to find another if we wanted to go inside. I wolfed my meal down and hurried us back to the car where we sped to the entrance, met with Jeremy, got our wristbands and entered the gates of the 2021 Bitcoin Conference.
Goosebumps grew upon my skin as we arrived. It was a mission accomplished. Among the scattered group of misfits and cockeyed investors, I felt a sense of belonging. This is what motley crews do to people who exist outside of the establishment. There were blue haired freaks attempting to start a dance circle, there were naked women who had painted their entire bodies black and orange with the bitcoin logo. Bearded hippies, who looked as if they slept on sidewalks, and suit wearing bankers who were pitching ETFs and crypto funds. Regular guys who wore shorts and shaved twice a week among pro-athletes and podcasters. Former porn stars and street ballers. Bearded psychopaths who cosplayed as if they were vikings. It was the capital rioters and the Davos crew. It was Woodstock 1969 and the Cypher punks. It was a frat party and the AVN awards.
The entire trip down to South Florida in the middle of the summer was officially worth it. Upon entering, we posed for a picture and my brother morphed his Geobender into a diamond shape. An onlooker noticed and commented.
“Whoa that’s cool, what is that?” He said, with an intrigued grin.
“A Geobender.” My brother said,
“A Geobender? What’s that got to do with crypto? It looks like you made it into an Ethereum.” His grin collapsed.
“Yeah it does look like Ethereum.” My brother said,
“Look,” the attendee said, tapping his arm and bringing us in closer to make sure we were listening. “I know this bitcoin crowd. I’ve been coming every year since 2014. This ain’t no place to let anyone think you’re some kind of shit coiner.”
“What’s a shit coiner?”
“It’s a promoter of a crypto that’s a scam.”
“Is Ethereum a scam?”
“The biggest one” He said, and vanished into the crowd.
Bitcoin 2021 was a symbolic and significant year for the event. A fundamental truth about bitcoin is that there are only 21 million and there will never be more. This Austrian economic framework creates a valuable digital asset based on scarcity. In the brilliant Bitcoin White Paper Satoshi Nakomoto covers many intriguing and fascinating topics such as proof of work (PoW), Proof of Stake, decentralized electronic payments, but the truth is there is a simple set of values that all bitcoin Maximalists abide by, and this is what makes bitcoin accessible to individuals with average intelligence, and connects with the most analytical thinkers on an emotional basis:
Never share how much bitcoin you own. Stack Sats and HODL (hold on for dear life). Holding through the turbulent volatility requires a religious belief in the sacred qualities of bitcoin. And make no mistake about it, this is a cult, this is a religion, this is a massive gathering of like-minded fanatics willing to die for this ethereal and intangible asset. In 2019 there were only 1000 people in attendance. This year, over 12,000 individuals made the pilgrimage from all over the world. That’s 12,000 people willing to come to South Florida in June, to spend money on Miami hotels and conference tickets, and what for? This isn’t a sales show where goods and services are exchanged, nor is it a trade-show where brand new products are displayed. Bitcoiners attended simply to be around other Bitcoiners.
This conference was taking place with bitcoin 50% below its all time high of $65,000. It was taking place amidst the negative news of China banning mining, Elon Musk ridiculing and insulting the currency and nearly every establishment news outlet finding clauses to chastise and pick apart the asset. Inside the insulation of the conference walls there was no acknowledgment of the FUD (fear energy and doubt) taking place in the fiat world. There were hugs and handshakes. There were smiles and cheers. There was peace and love and friendly nudges of encouragement.
The spectacle of this monetary revolution was happening the same weekend as a boxing match between Logan Paul and Floyd Mayweather and something about this Gladiatorial event signaled a cross between the end of a dying empire and the beginning of a new order. The Paul brothers, Logan and Jake, physically and metaphorically knocking out members of established institutions is emblematic of bitcoin, and somehow it made sense that the events were coexisting.
Max Keiser took the stage in a dove white suit and translucent purple sunglasses, screaming at the top of his lungs “Fuck Elon. I’m not fucking selling. Fuck Elon.” He was met with a standing ovation. Billionaire, CEO, Michael Saylor, who famously invested his company, MicroStrategy’s entire cash reserves into bitcoin, stood beside Keiser, in a black suit, and confidently proclaimed that, “Bitcoin is digital gold on a big tech monetary network that will grow by a factor of 100.”
Saylor said that he lost faith in his traditional investing strategy, which was buying and holding onto big tech companies last year. He said that up until the crisis of Coronavirus and the trillions of dollars of stimulus which followed, he had never thought about the dollar’s status as a reserve currency but that now he had seen inflation grow 3 fold, and needed a solution for the melting ice cube of his cash. He was looking for alternative solutions, and thus, came across bitcoin
The mistake outsiders make when having preconceptions about the bitcoin community is assuming that it is comprised of a bunch of nerds and antisocial criminals looking for an untraceable way to buy and sell drugs. Sure, those demographics can be found within the community, but the truth is Bitcoiners are outgoing and deep thinking, highly compassionate and sociable individuals. They are jocks who were told they’d never amount to anything if they didn’t make the NFL. They are the class clowns who saw the asinine stupidity of the school curriculum. They are the stoners who read philosophy books they were interested in instead of the assigned reading. They are the misfits and outcasts who have ambition yet do not shy away from the absurdity of society.
As the institutions of Hollywood and corporate finance lose the appeal they had in the 20th century, the recklessness and Wild West chaos that attracted young American talent is all but invisible, and those industries are now populated by rule followers and ideological warriors who obey their Oligarchic Overlords. Bitcoin simply is the most interesting option for young and talented men/women in their 20’s and 30’s. It is a community that says it is okay to be a man, it is okay to be politically incorrect, a community that values freedom of expression, that doesn’t obsess over race and identity, that is collaborative and only hostile to those who threaten their existence. It is a living organism of freedom loving cowboys that will plunder through the coming decades.
On a panel where the comedian Tim Dillon interviewed the Winklevoss Twins, alongside Jake Paul, Dillon asked when it was ever acceptable to sell your bitcoin. “What if your mother has been kidnapped and the ransomer demands bitcoin? Is it okay to sell in that situation or do you tell that geriatric bitch to get lost?” The question was never answered.
I was sitting outside on the bleachers beside the Skatepark, surrounded by a group of strangers who were sipping cocktails in the afternoon sun. The price of bitcoin was plummeting and you’d almost expect tempers to start flaring as the drunken crowd saw their portfolios slide into the red. Instead there was pin-drop silence as we watched Jack Mallers speak on a massive screen. Jack Mallers is the 27 year old CEO of Strike, a payments company that allows employees to be paid in bitcoin. In high school Mallers was competitive in both basketball and Chess, and he moves with the swagger of a former athlete who recently started working out again. He is a computer coding college drop out who is now friends with NFL players, race car drivers and former playmates. He is an unpolished public speaker who had a big announcement to get out and was overcome with waves of emotion that brought him to tears before anything meaningful came out of his mouth.
“I will fucking die on this hill. I will die for bitcoin.” He said to an eruption of applause, and then got into the purpose of his speech. He had met with the president of El Salvador, a nation whose currency had been debased, whose people had to rely on crime and gang related activity to make a decent living, whose corrupt institutions stole money from family members sending USD and other more stable currencies back into the region. The President of El Salvador had agreed to make Bitcoin legal tender. It was the first country to do so. This announcement was met with a kind of blind euphoria. Celebratory high fives and hugs. Fist pumping excitement as this had apparently been a goal of the bitcoin community for over a decade.
Of course I didn’t instantly see how this would benefit the individuals of El Salvador, as it would only truly mean anything to those who held bitcoin. Tim Dillon picked up on this irony and commented that if “You do not own bitcoin in El Salvador you will be shot on spot, and that is a good thing.” While Bitcoiners are at the risk of hallucinating that if something is good for bitcoin it is good for the rest of the world, it is always import to acknowledge the fundamental concept that bitcoin offers freedom and liberty to all eight billion people on earth. Bitcoin allows any individual to own digital property. It is just as easy to buy $100 worth of bitcoin as it is to buy a billion dollars worth of it. It can be sent around the world at the speed of light and is not subject to corruption or manipulation of centralized institutions. This is why it is worth fight for and believing in. It is incorruptible sound money.
My brother had disappeared for the past two hours sand I was beginning to wonder where he was. I texted him and he emerged from a crowd with two dangling hippies that had hair down to their waists and beards down to their chests.. They looked like riff-raff hired to clean Jerry Garcia’s ashtrays. Of course I learned that they had each made tens of millions by investing in bitcoin a decade earlier and were about to place an order for half a million Geobenders. Great creeping Jesus, I thought as I felt my heart sink to my stomach. Well… what the hell. At least he had found his people. The hippies shook my hand and offered me a handful of mushrooms and I acted like I had some place to be.
We left the conference and drove down to South Beach, where the depravity of Miami was on full display. The city of Miami can make Hollywood feel as wholesome as a little house on the prairie, and can make Manhattan seem like nursery school playgrounds. This is a town for the super rich and unpretentious. It is a town where senses are indulged, not teased. It is a town of dollar bills, bikini models and large bottles of alcohol. Cocaine and street violence. Cheap sunglasses and exotic sports cars. It’s a town with a short attention span and even shorter memory. We walked down Collins avenue to meet a friend at the Confidante. My mind muddled and my sunglasses foggy. This is bitcoin weekend in Miami, I laughed to myself, a big outdoor loony bin.
