“…there is only three ways a smart person can go broke: liquor, ladies, and leverage.”Charlie Munger
To truly understand the current situation — I want you to imagine a scene, a hypothetical:
Imagine a little chubby boy, let’s call him Sam. He’s nervously looking out the window of his mother’s car as she drives him to school. He’s missed the bus and she’s talking to him but he’s not listening. Sam’s watching the drops of rain run down the glass in front of his nose as his mind wanders….
Fast forward twenty years.
Little Sam opens his eyes before quickly shutting them again as the fully risen sun bounces noonlight off his big fuckass pool through his penthouse window. He rubs the hard dry crusts from the corner of his eyes.
Throwing off his silk blankets he heaves his bulk upright and dangles his thin legs off the side of the bed. He swears it was not this far to the floor last night.
He looks back at the softly snoring frizzy form and the first wave of doubt breaks over his mind. He shakes his head as if he could shake the regret out of his ears.
“No, no, no.”
A couple of steps and he’s in his bathroom. The pale light reveling his pale reflection.
“No, I can’t look like that,” he thinks.
Last night he looked younger, thinner, and even a bit handsome in the right light. The cabinet opens, as does the Parkinson’s patch inside. It’s on his arm before he can even realize what he’s doing.
“Fuck fuck fuck.”
The wrapper flutters into the trash obscuring the small text printed on the package: ‘Levodopa side effects include: Paraphilia – intense urges or behaviors involving non-normative sexual interests….’
“Why does it have to take so long for these things to work”, he thinks. “Maybe I can hire someone to put one on me an hour before I wake up?”
The phone is half hanging off the marble counter. The near-constant vibration of messages has caused it to almost fall. Messages keep pinging:
Klaus S: Remember ze agreement und ve vill reward you kleine Sam.
Gary G: Need you to help me with this Metamask thing again. Call me.
Salami: I will break your legs you aubergine eating &^%”
“Oh god, why is it taking so long?”
The patches used to hit faster, hit harder. Lately, he’s needing more and more to keep the voices down.
His neurons, shrunken and dry, begin quivering in a struggle to produce more dopamine even as the chemicals from the patch hit his bloodstream.
“Why is it this way? Why can’t it all just go his way? Stupid crypto. Stupid ledgers. Should have gone into TradFi. Mortgage hypothecation. Set up some SPACs. Unicorn biotech startups. Maybe politics…no, not tall enough for politics. Fuck. What…h.a.p.p.e.n.e.d.“
Finally, his depleted neurons manage to squeeze a few more drops of L-Dopa down raw neural pathways.
“Ahh, there we go. It’s all good. I’ve got it under control. Just a few setbacks. It’s fine. Hell, I’ve got time for a quick ranked match probably. . Juices are flowing. The next thing will be bigger.”
He scribbles a quick note on his phone ‘Leverage harder next time.’
He shuffles back into the bedroom.
“Hmm, Caroline actually looks kinda cute.”
Getting behind her into bed he says,” Wake up Caro-cakes, I’m ready to Slytherin my wand into your Gryffindor…”
Big thanks to @crypto_linn for this excellent picture of the life of the once-rich. Check out her newsletter “Linn’s Leverage” for some excellent news aggregation. And be sure to follow her on Twitter as well!