I'm writing this from a punk rock show.
Murphy's Law. Gorilla Biscuits. Circle Jerks. Three bands that have been playing the same music for 30-40 years because they believed in something and refused to compromise it. The venue smells like sweat and beer. The crowd is a mix of 50-year-olds who were here in 1987 and 20-year-olds who found the records in a crate somewhere.
This is exactly what Bitcoin feels like.
DIY or Die
Punk rock didn't ask permission. It didn't wait for a label deal. It didn't wait for mainstream acceptance or Rolling Stone coverage or a slot on the radio.
It built its own infrastructure. Zines instead of magazines. House shows instead of arenas. Independent labels instead of major deals. A network of people who believed in the music enough to build everything from scratch.
Sound familiar?
Bitcoin didn't ask permission either. It didn't wait for the Fed to approve it. It didn't negotiate with banks. It didn't hire a lobbying firm. A person — or persons — we've never identified published a 9-page document, released the code, and disappeared.
The network built itself. The infrastructure grew organically. And 17 years later, it's still running. Not because a company is maintaining it. Because people believe in it enough to run nodes.
Don't Sell Out
The cardinal sin in punk was selling out. Taking the major label deal. Changing your sound for radio play. Letting the machine reshape you into something more palatable.
Bitcoiners understand this viscerally.
Every cycle brings new people who want to "fix" Bitcoin. Make it faster. Add smart contracts. Change the supply cap. Appeal to institutions. Make it more like the system it was built to replace.
The answer is always the same: No.
Not because we're stubborn. Because we understand what makes it work. The immutability is the feature. The conservatism is the point. The refusal to change is why it's trustworthy.
Gorilla Biscuits didn't change their sound to get on MTV. Bitcoin doesn't change its rules to get into a BlackRock portfolio.
The Community
Punk shows look chaotic from the outside. Moshing. Screaming. Feedback. People who look like they're fighting.
From the inside it's different. It's people who found each other. Who recognized something in the music that the mainstream couldn't see. Who built a community because the mainstream wasn't offering what they needed.
Bitcoin conferences feel the same way to me. A bunch of people who found each other. Who recognized something in the protocol that the financial mainstream couldn't see. Who built parallel infrastructure because the existing system wasn't serving them.
Some of them are wearing suits now. Some are still in band shirts. The suits make the Bitcoiners nervous sometimes. Fair. But the protocol doesn't care what you're wearing.
What Punk Got Wrong (And Bitcoin Fixed)
Punk burned fast and hot and often burned itself out. The ethos of "no future" is viscerally satisfying in a sweaty venue at 22. It's less useful as a life philosophy.
Bitcoin kept the ethos but added the time horizon.
Not no future. Long future. 21 million coins. Fixed issuance. Provably scarce. Still here in 2140.
The punk energy — the refusal to compromise, the DIY infrastructure, the community of believers — combined with a monetary system designed to last centuries.
That's the combination I didn't know I was looking for until I found both.
Stack Accordingly
I'm going back to the pit now.
Murphy's Law is about to play. They're from the Bronx. They formed in 1982. Jimmy G is still up front screaming.
The blocks are still coming. 144 today. Same as yesterday. Same as tomorrow.
Some things you don't mess with.
Stay sovereign. Stay loud.
— Jon Rich | StackerZero Written from a punk rock show, April 11, 2026