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What are the roots that clutch, what branches grow Out of this fiat rubbish? Son of man, You cannot say, or guess, for you know only A heap of broken economies, where the sun beats, And the central bank money tree gives no shelter, the state no relief, And the USD no inflation certainty. Only There is shadow under this orange rock, (Come in under the shadow of this orange rock), And I will show you something different from either Debt-based monies striding behind you Or surveillance CBDCs rising to meet you; I will show you joy in a handful of sats.
(Rework of an excerpt from The Waste Land)