The Seed of the Giga Chad
Welcome to part 3 of the ongoing series: “Memoirs of a Crypto Giga Chad in Training.” If you missed part 1 and/or part 2, links are at the bottom!
Why? Oh, why did I have to wake up?
Why couldn’t I just accept the surface things for what they were? Why did the illusion shatter? WHY, GOD? WHYYYYY!?!?!?!?!?
Ehrm… Well, probably for a few main reasons:
- I am made in the image of God, and there exists within the deepest part of my being an empty place called the Temple, where the Spirit of the Creator is invited to live and reside. Because of this, no amount of brainwashing, propaganda or lame-ass, boring-ass, stank-ass mediocrity is allowed to take root in the essence of my being.
- YouTube.
- … 3… Certainly there’s a third in here somewhere…
Thanks to the Spirit of God and countless hours spent consuming “conspiracy theories” on YouTube, I finally reached a breaking point in the mediocre life of a barely conscious primate predisposed to irrational paranoia, who was raised in the place where the suburbs meet the country in Northeast Ohio.
Some call it “God’s Country,” some call it “God Forsaken Country,” some just call it “home.” A land where farms slowly turned into housing developments. A place that had one traffic light when I was a kid, before all the banks and pizza places moved into town.
A place cultivated in the spirit of mediocrity. My home sweet home.
Boomers moved there when they got sick of the actual suburbs. Boomers were still young back then. They were just about the age I am now.
They encroached on the so-called white trash who had posted up in their trophy land fills; front yards crammed with enough broken down cars and rusting tin sheds to provide housing for entire generations of racoons and opossums. The noises those nocturnal beasts make at night while fighting with feral cats is bone chilling. It’s all part of the nightmarish backdrop of a populace chasing a “comfortable life.”
Then the Boomers had kids. Their kids had plenty of food, but nothing to do. Nobody was really rich out there. Plenty of people were poor, though. But wealth is on a sliding scale. The meaning of “rich” out there in the country is a helluva lot different than the meaning of “rich" in Beverly Hills.
Where I’m from, you could tell the rich houses because they had those big plastic mailboxes that were immune to baseball bats. And newish Hondas. I never saw a Mercedes in the flesh where I came from.
My dad had a longtime friend named Tom who lived in the southern part of the county, where the actual rich folks lived. Tom always had a new BMW. I remember him telling a story one time about how he was in China on business, and pretended to be super whack for the first part of his business trip so the Chinese thought he was weak. Then his clients took him skiing in the mountains to test his grit. He made a deal with them that they’d do business with him if he could beat them in a race. Well, he grew up skiing, and his soft white boy impression was all a slick hustle. The story goes, he absolutely embarrassed them by skiing backwards down the whole mountain, winning the race in American style. The guy had steel balls. I never asked if he closed the deal. I bet he did.
My mom always stuck her nose up and rolled her eyes when Tom came up in conversation. I don’t think she disliked Tom, she just didn’t like Tom. I think it was because: a) Tom is cool; b) Tom is rich.
See, my mom grew up poor. Her parents didn’t want her to go to college. Either they thought she was too stupid, or they just didn’t think girls belonged in college. Maybe both.
Well, she proved them wrong and became a college-educated teacher. Good job, Mom. Thanks for taking that leap and rebelling against your parents. Proving that what they thought was right for you was bullshit. And you paved the way for your children to have something better to stand upon when their times came to make a future for themselves.
The only problem is that the future I always wanted was not the future my mom saw for me. Just like the future she wanted for herself wasn’t the future her parents wanted for her. She still doesn’t see my future. It’s okay. She took her own path, and so will I. She clams up and gets really busy in the kitchen any time I start talking about my plan to become rich. This is a strange world full of strange people, but I do love it.
“Tiger got to hunt, bird got to fly;
Man got to sit and wonder ‘why, why, why?’
Tiger got to sleep, bird got to land;
Man got to tell himself he understand.”
― Kurt Vonnegut (Bokonon), Cat’s Cradle
There was lots of action out there in the place where the suburbs meet the country, I’ll tell ya. The land where we smashed up mailboxes, stole orange barrels out of construction zones, and found a cozy spot under the powerlines to drink and smoke weed. Maybe it was all the open air that turned kids wild. Maybe it was the smell of meadow and forest that stunted our potential to see the bigger picture. Or maybe I was just sheltered.
And yet some how, some way, in this weird corner of creation, the public school provided a better education than the private school. I’d know. My dad was a top school administrator. He has all the numbers. He knows all the stats. He studies all the latest research. Curriculum was and is his specialty. I don’t know if the public school is still better than the private school. I stopped paying attention.
When it came time for my dad to become THE top administrator… well… he DIDN’T become the top administrator. He got burned. Probably because he’s so fucking smart. Probably because he KNEW all the stats and all the numbers and saw how shitty public education was going to become when nobody wanted to listen to the smartest man they’d ever met.
My old man knows how to make kids smarter. How to get the kids who couldn’t read to learn how to read. But nobody gave a flying fuck about what my father knows about the future of education. And so instead of letting the school system he’d put his entire adult life into burn him, he retired.
Now, this may be shocking to my Millennial readers, but it turns out the system my dad put his whole life into didn’t actually give a shit about him at all. In fact, they looked at him and saw a literal piece of shit, not a human. They didn’t see the smartest man they’d ever met, they saw a guy who was trying to usher in the future of public education. They were terrified. So they kicked him to the curb instead of face the chance that they might fail to lead our youth to better education.
The community never knew, couldn’t have known, about the intellectual juggernaut in their midst who never got his due. Now they have a bunch of kids who are too dumb to graduate high school, but who are graduating anyway; and a school board so bogged down in politics that it’s a wonder they can even remember to purchase new books. Now, those kids go to college, unable to keep up with the college curriculum because they all got easy passes. So the colleges need to lower their standards, so they can keep graduating students and keep that juicy state money flowing in for doing their parts to give out diplomas.
What the F*CK does this have to do with becoming a Crypto Giga Chad?
Join me, dear reader, my little buddy, my ole pal, as I continue down the twisted road of the end times. Down, down into the dark abyss of the unknown to uncover a future I used to dream of, but of which I am now convinced MUST become reality. My dream was not to become a Crypto Giga Chad. No. The Crypto Giga Chad is just a vehicle, a method. It’s the path to the Chad that’s always lived inside me, but didn’t know how to get out.
Here he comes.
The discerning reader can stop here. You already guessed the rest of the story.
Just kidding. Keep reading. You don’t know the story yet. But I bet you can guess the next line.
My parents pushed me and my brothers to go to college.
Back then we still had the promise that getting a college degree guaranteed a job. A well-paying job. A well-paying and stable job. With benefits. And retirement contributions. Oh, baby. Boomers are salivating just reading those sexy words.
Well-paying. ||mmmmm||
Stable. ||ahhhhh||
Benefits. ||oooohhh||
Retirement. ||ffffuuuuuhhhh||
That all sounded SWEET circa Y2K. After all, my dad is a now a veritable baller. He taught me and my brothers how to live like we were poor while still having everything we needed and more.
Never overdo it. Practice delayed gratification. Work hard for the things you want.
Live beneath your means.
Now, in retirement after decades of dedicated service and hard work for people who didn’t care about him, my old man is living a good, comfortable life padded with all the money he saved over a lifetime of becoming an expert in his field and living beneath his means.
The only problem is that this tactic forces you to… live beneath your means. For a long time. Pretty much forever. But if my mom had lived beneath her means, if she’d listened to her parents, she’d never have met my dad. I wouldn’t be here. She’d never have become a college-educated teacher. She’d never have broken out of that mold that the older generation tried to stuff her in. They tried to break her spirit, but she has the Spirit of the Creator inside her as well, and so she broke the mold instead of being broken herself.
Well, Mom, you got to break the mold. And so do I. Sorry it makes you uncomfortable. But I bet you’ll love sleeping on the bed of cash I drop on your doorstep in a few years as a small token of my appreciation for your trials and sacrifices.
I’m sick of living beneath my means. Material things are beneath me, and not the other way around. There’s no reason I can’t go out and get what I want.
And so the seed of the Giga Chad is planted in the mind of the young man. Teenage rebellion plows the field for the young man to plant his seeds. In the proper season, the young man must look to the moon to discern the time for harvest. The Cosmos open up and swallow him. He is tossed by the celestial winds of the unforgiving vacuum, from which nobody can return. He is rebirthed from the ashes of a thousand dying suns and returns to his fruiting field with a new body and a mind overthrown by the alpha wolf who could no longer hide in the dark cave of his fear. He gazes upon the harvest of his labors, shakes the grain from the chaff and pinches the golden bud between his fingers. It’s full of earth and malt, the smell of life and death. He tastes of the fruit, and sees that it is good. He sees that it is still not good enough.
Coincidences form the crooked path of destiny
Every day presents one thousand choices. Nay. One million. Perhaps more.
I once became caught in a Déjà Vu trap after eating too many magic mushrooms down in the bottom of a deep, wooded ravine. I was crouched down in the river bed, finger painting a flat rock with vivid red and green acrylic paints. My good friend was with me. He didn’t have any mushrooms, but he wanted to go for a ride too. He had a fistful of assorted pills. We were on different levels.
The clear, shallow water flowed over a bed of layered shale. It had a bright greenish blue tint. The deepness of the ravine mixes with the cool flow of the water to bring reprieve from the sweltering heat of Ohio summer. I still go back there. To this day the water looks the same. Sometimes I go back to that spot just to make sure I remember.
My friend said a sentence. I said a sentence back.
“Didn’t we just talk about this yesterday?” I asked, knowing that we had. I was just making conversation.
“No,” he said.
And that’s when the mushrooms took hold.
I was struck with a Déjà Vu that refused to recede. God had played a cruel trick on me, I thought. I was going to freak out, I could tell. And I did.
In the following minutes — it could have been twenty, it could have been two hundred, I’ll never know — I walked the thin path between dimensions where the living go in the moments leading up to death. In that state of timeless terror, I dragged myself up out of that ravine, clutching my painted rock as if it were a mythical talisman handed down through my ancestral peoples.
I was outside of the continuum, viewing the multiverse with every passing step. I knew then that even if I threw myself from the cliff into that shallow stream, another version of me would keep walking. The choices were laid out before me. The choices were infinite.
Ahh. That’s it. The third reason the illusion had to shatter.
3. Breaking free of mass formation psychosis through psychedelic exlporation.
I knew there was a third reason in there somewhere. So that’s three catalysts to wake up from the bullshit:
- Image of God
- YouTube
- Tripping
The reason I like to go back to that place down in the ravine is so that I can remember that there are no coincidences. Every step is a choice, and everything that happens is the only way it could have been (in this dimension).
All the coincidences a Chad in training experiences that create the crooked path he walks are building blocks toward his future. Forget the word misstep. Forget the world failure.
Easier said than done, as I sit here taking loss after loss in my battle to build the future I desire.
No excuses. Let’s move on.
So… this is coincidence, huh?
One of my best friends since childhood got into bitcoin early. He’s a nerd. He’s a technology wiz by nature. His parents’ house was the first with high speed internet out of everyone I knew, and his house had three computers. Unfortunately, a lot of the time they were being used to mine ore in Ultima Online. He said he could sell it for cash. I don’t know if he ever did. But digital ore mining really cut into Unreal Tournament time, so I wasn’t a fan.
He hooked up the first custom automotive touch-screen I’d ever seen when I was 16 years old. He used it to play music on his iPod. The first iPod. He rigged it up in a shitty, brown 1986 Saab and drilled a hole through the floorboard in order to find a proper ground. It barely worked. It was legendary.
Ten years later, he tells me he’s mining bitcoin. It sounded a lot like mining ore in Ultima Online, so I wasn’t terribly interested at first. Then he told me you could use bitcoin to buy pure blow, Molly and LSD on the dark web.
That got my attention. He told me more.
A digital currency designed to bring down the legacy banking system. Wow, a dream come true. I’d seen plenty of YouTube videos by that point about how the big banking cartels were enslaving us little people with debt. I was really intrigued by the idea of bitcoin, but it would still be years until I truly understood what a decentralized blockchain was.
I don’t have many regrets. Without my prior actions, I’d never have ended up in the place I am now. And I love my place. But, I do wish I’d have mined some bitcoin. Back then, you could just do it right on your desktop computer. What an easy life.
Maybe I’d be a bitcoin millionaire now. Or maybe I’d have just spent it all on internet blow and Molly. Can’t go back in time.
But I was also scared. I was scared because I was ignorant. Just the mention of the dark web made me scared that I would accidentally come across a live stream of child murder.
I’m confident now that I would not have accidentally seen a live stream of child murder. I should have done more homework on the topic back then. Maybe I’d have mined some bitcoin.
But I didn’t.
Oh well. I’m sure my whole friendship with this guy was a total coincidence. These definitely weren’t the building blocks of my future.
In 2017, an acquaintance on Facebook posted about how he bought his first cryptocurrency. I used his referral link and got myself $10 in free bitcoin. Wahoo!
Over the next several months, I spent about $750 on bitcoin, Ether, Litecoin and Bitcoin Cash. Then it eventually turned into about $100. I wasn’t about to cash it out for a measly hundo, so I just ignored it for a while and went on with my life. My fun, but broke-and-didn’t-know-it life.
More coincidences that had nothing to do with my future
- I married my wife, the only woman who has ever truly loved and understood me.
- My instinct to provide a fruitful future kicked in for the first time. I decided I needed to make more moves. Earn more money. Do something with my life. Not knowing what to do, I started authoring a novel.
- The novel didn’t get finished (yet). My wife gave birth to our son right in the middle of my living room. It was planned. It’s called a home birth.
My perception of reality shattered when I saw the open eyes of my firstborn son. They were so clear that when I looked in them, I saw myself looking back in the reflections. In my face. I saw the face of my old man. I was in my mid-30s and realized for the first time that I barely knew anything about my father. He worked a lot, but he was always there for me. And still, I didn’t know the man.
But I wanted my son to know me. I wanted my son to know me as an image of God, the same image that was staring back at me from his beautiful, clear eyes, his cosmic mirrors. He wouldn’t remember me as a wage slave who sent him to public school for a shitty education just because I had to work all day. Fuck that. It was time to break the bonds and figure out how to get rich.
For the next two years I spent a lot of money learning that I didn’t know anything about money. I lost a lot. It was worth it.
Suddenly: January 2021
Another friend who constantly made fun of me for being interested in crypto asked me how my crypto was doing.
Beats the shit out of me, I told him.
It’s pumping, he said.
Holy fack. My investment had doubled in value! Needless to say, I started buying more crypto. Every dollar I spent forced me to learn more about the revolutionary technology I’d been hearing so much about, but not really reading up on as much as I could have been.
Thank God I didn’t buy the ATH (crypto-speak for “all time high”). Unfortunately, I hadn’t started taking my financial education seriously at that point, and I watched my investments tip over the ATH without profiting a single dime. I spent a shit load more money all the way into the bear market.
Watching all that value disappear lit a fire inside me, and I knew I had to level up my financial education. Learn about blockchains. Learn about markets. Learn about money.
I finally read Robert Kyosaki’s Rich Dad, Poor Dad.
Mind explosion.
Make money work for you, and not the other way around. Brilliant. How had I gone for over thirty years without ever hearing this simple, life-altering lesson?
Twelve years of grade school. Nope. Four years of college. Nope. Fourteen years of professional workforce slavery. Nope. Never heard it once.
So many coincidences! I can’t even take it! There’s no way any of this was a path I had to walk, that would lead me to finally start molding myself into the person I’d always wanted to become. The person I’d dreamed about becoming but was always told couldn’t exist. The person I was always told can only exist in your dreams.
The broke loser inside me died. I would make my first fortune in crypto. My second fortune IRL.
But now I think they might be coming at the same time.
That’s what she said.
Till next time.
Crypto Giga Chad in Training OUT!
Join me, friend, on my crooked path. Parts 1 & 2 of this ongoing series can be found below:
