From Satoshi’s Code to Peter’s Epistle: A Brisbane Bitcoiner’s Quest for Truth in a World of Shadows In the humid haze of a Brisbane morning, the river snaking like a vein of forgotten gold past $925k median houses, I sit with a cold cuppa, staring at my hardware wallet. It’s not just sats—it’s a talisman against the lies. Bitcoin didn’t save me from vaccine regret, border closures, or mates rotting in cells for crimes they didn’t commit. But it cracked open a door: What do I trust when everything else fails? Call me a Pleb. I only stacked in 2024, post the 262-day Melbourne lockdowns that turned a city into a ghost town while the government printed 350% of GDP to fake prosperity. Rents up 30% in a year, super funds hoarding $3.5T, the ATO eyeing unrealised gains on the top 0.5%. Banks freezing “suspicious” crypto transfers. The Big Four swallowing 80% of deposits, Coles-Woolies owning the aisles, Qantas handouts, super locked until the ATO nods. From July 1, 2025, the guarantee jumps to 12%—while whispers grow of raiding balances for “budget repair.” Digital IDs loom, dissent is censored, Epstein files gather dust, Port Arthur secrets stay sealed. Bitcoin was my first rebellion. Self-custody. Run a node. Verify. But the halvings turned my mind spiritual. @bitcoin__apex: “Bitcoin is the ego killer… a catalyst for enlightenment.” If I won’t trust a central bank, why trust a premier or a pope? The real mining began in my soul. I opened The Essential Jesus—Luke’s raw Gospel, no footnotes. Jesus flipped temple tables; Satoshi flipped fiat. Trust is earned, not decreed. Saying “I love you” to Christ felt like handing over private keys. Then 1 Peter 2:12 hit: Live good lives among the pagans… that they may see your good deeds and glorify God. Faithful presence, not rage. I wandered into a northside PCA hall—no incense, no idols, elders elected bottom-up. Pastor Garnet on suffering under Nero? That’s Andrews’ 2020 towers, rights shredded. No mandated “Welcome to Country.” Transparency baked in, like a blockchain audit. Bitcoin led me to Jesus because both demand verification. Fiat’s faith in kings; BTC’s in math. Society’s in spin; Scripture’s in stone. The harms we ignore—COVID isolation toll, elite escapes, sealed files—scream for decentralised truth: self-custody your soul, community over cabals, life over lies. Now stacking sats and Scripture, I see the fork. One path centralises death—80k terminations we fund, 500k net migrants yearly ($10B Centrelink, ~0.1% tradies), housing for the connected. The other? Kingdom come—mine for neighbours, love awkwardly, glorify amid the mess. Brisbane’s nones (30% and climbing) whisper: Show us something real. Bitcoin wasn’t the end; it was the burning bush. From code to cross, the search continues. Who’s with me? Don’t trust, verify. Never stop asking questions. Simo. #Bitcoin #Jesus #SelfCustody

🚨 **Safety or Revenue?** Rural road deaths: **9.6 per 100k** Speeding share: **~3 per 100k** Choking on a sandwich: **9.2 per 100k** Same risk. One gets 80km/h + Jenoptik cams everywhere. The other? “Chew slowly.” Next: Cafés raided for “high-risk” toast? Jenoptik investors smiling: 🟢 BlackRock (3.7%) 🟢 Vanguard (3.1%) 🟢 Thuringia (11%) 🟢 Dimensional (2.5%) More cams = more contracts. “Safety” on the side. Aussie gubbo on the money #RevenueRaise #SpeedTrap #GubboLogic

The Australian Labor Albanese government is rushing a new bill through parliament that could force Australian employers to pay women who have a late-term abortion up to full term. Shocking official documents and Senate admissions confirm that women who intentionally terminate healthy pregnancies after 20 weeks can already access up to $22,000 in government-paid parental leave. Now, the new "Baby Priya" bill would mandate that private businesses also pay their full salary for months—a potential $100,000+ "abortion bonus." This is a national disgrace hiding in plain sight. How much further into the sewer can Australia sink? youtu.be/46O2YeJt764?si…

Theodor Herzl, a founder of modern Zionism, wrote in his 1895 diary, "The anti-Semites will become our most dependable friends, the anti-Semitic countries our allies." This quote still sparks debate on Zionism and Israel’s founding. The U.S. is one of Israel’s biggest allies—are they Zionists, anti-Semites, or something else? Food for thought. #Zionism #Israel #History #USPolitics

**The Danger of Mixing Up Aussies with Their Leaders: A Gaza-Australia Parallel** In the chaos of war, truth gets trampled like a footy at a grand final. Mainstream media often paints Gaza’s people as one with Hamas, the terrorist mob ruling with an iron fist, silencing critics, and using kids’ schools as rocket pads. This lazy narrative fuels the genocide of Israel’s heavy-handed response—over 40,000 Palestinian deaths since October 2023, according to Gaza’s health ministry—while barely mentioning Hamas’s executions of dissenters or their knack for hiding behind hospitals. The result? A skewed view that forgets one truth: Gazans aren’t Hamas, just like Aussies aren’t their government, no matter how dodgy it gets. To get this, picture Australia gone full dystopian under a rogue Australian Labor Party (ALP). Imagine the ALP, mates with one-party regimes like China, turning the Lucky Country into a surveillance state. Free speech? Gone quicker than a snag at a barbie. They roll out a social credit system—think CCTV on every street corner from Bondi to Broome, tracking your every move. Point to point cameras on every road. Post a cheeky meme about the PM on X? Your score tanks, and suddenly you’re locked out of Centrelink, can’t get a Qantas flight to Bali, or even a flat white at your local café. Taxes skyrocket to fund the ALP’s chest-thumping, leaving families in Western Sydney or regional Tassie selling their utes to keep the lights on. The ALP, drunk on power, picks a fight with the U.S., lobbing insults and maybe a missile at American bases in Darwin. The Yanks hit back—sanctions, tariffs, then airstrikes flattening suburbs from Penrith to Perth, killing thousands in a proxy stoush with China. The world screams genocide as Aussie homes burn, but the news barely mentions the ALP’s crackdowns on protesters or their use of RSL halls and footy ovals as military bases. Aussies, like Gazans, become collateral damage in a story that paints them as their rulers. The ALP’s social credit nightmare and tax gouging get a pass, while the U.S.’s over-the-top retaliation is framed as the only crime. This selective outrage twists the truth, letting the ALP’s tyranny and America’s ego run wild. The parallel’s clear as a summer day at St Kilda Beach: Gazans suffer under Hamas’s terror and Israel’s bombs, just like Aussies in this nightmare would suffer under the ALP’s boot and U.S. airstrikes. Conflating Aussies with a rogue ALP is as wrong as equating Gazans with Hamas. Hamas’s documented purges—killing critics in cold blood, as reported by human rights groups—mirror the ALP’s hypothetical censorship and executions in this scenario. Both betray their own people. Yet, when the world slaps a single label on everyone, it fuels shoddy policies and worse outcomes. Civilians—whether in Gaza or this imagined Australia—cop the flak for their leaders’ stuff-ups. The takeaway for Aussies is dead simple: your government isn’t you. Whether it’s Hamas oppressing Gazans or a rogue ALP turning Australia into a dystopian mess, the people aren’t the problem. Call it out, from the pub to parliament, and don’t let the world’s narratives—or the nightly news—tell you otherwise. That’s the first step to stopping tyranny and destruction from winning, whether it’s in the Middle East or your own backyard. Simo.

Just watched this mind-bending interview on The Wasp Files: a veteran newspaper man's take on media foreknowledge of the Port Arthur Massacre. "Only critical thinkers will get it"—spot on. The rapid narrative lock-in before Bryant's arrest? Chilling. Feels like idiots joyriding on Fraser Island beach—blind to the ruts ahead. youtu.be/o8bJAJcHLX4?si… #PortArthurMassacre #MartinBryant #TheWaspFiles #TrueCrimeAustralia #Australia

Chicks Had Tits, Dudes Had Dicks—Then I Saw This Furry and Lost the Plot Mate, I’m over it. Back in the day, life was simple: chicks had tits, dudes had dicks, and you knew what you were getting. Now? I’m at this thing with my mate, and I see his son’s new fling—a furry, all decked out in some sparkly fox getup, tail bouncing, ears perked. I’m thinking, “Alright, quirky chick, probably calls herself a ‘vixen-kin’ or some TikTok bollocks.” Looks female, moves female, the whole deal. Then my mate drops the nuke: “Nah, it’s a bloke.” A BLOKE. My brain’s doing backflips, not ‘cause I give a toss who his kid’s dating, but ‘cause I saw this furry with my own eyes and got it dead wrong. It’s like reality’s taking the piss, sneaking into my life and flipping what I thought I knew. This ain’t just a laugh—it’s got that French Revolution vibe, when trust got sent to the guillotine and nothing was solid. The old days? You didn’t need a bloody decoder ring to figure people out. See a chick, you knew. See a dude, same. No second-guessing. But this furry? I’m standing there, beer in hand, staring at what I swore was a girl, only to find out it’s a guy. My mate’s half-laughing, half-freaked—says his son’s all “it’s fluid, Dad,” spouting words like he’s swallowed a woke dictionary. We’re just trying to have a yarn without playing “spot the gender.” It’s not about hating on anyone—it’s about the world feeling like a funhouse where mirrors lie. This screams 1789 France, when the mob wasn’t just toppling kings—they were torching certainty. Blokes like the Chevalier d’Éon played mind games, swapping dresses for swords to mess with everyone. They called it “liberty,” but it was chaos—nobody knew what was real, from God to who’s running the show. Now it’s X doing the dirty work: posts hyping “be whoever you want” while others scream “it’s all a scam!” Me? I’m just a bloke who saw a furry, thought “female,” got “male,” and now I’m wondering if I’m the mug for trusting my eyes. Why’s this hit so hard? ‘Cause I saw it, mate. Furries aren’t new—around since the ‘80s, 1-2% of folks, mostly young blokes, with 20-30% vibing “non-binary” (some 2016 furry study). Cool, do you. But when I clock someone as a chick and get corrected, it’s like reality’s pranking me. It’s that Revolution ghost—sowing doubt, making you question your own senses. Could’ve been cleared up with a quick “I’m a dude,” but nah, the “hoo haa” keeps it alive. Drama’s the fuel—clicks, retweets, fights. X loves it. I’m not saying burn the furry costumes. I’m saying I miss when seeing was believing, not a bloody guessing game. This furry crap’s just the start—same as those elite rumors we’re sidestepping. All noise, no truth. So, what’s the fix? Keep it real. Next time I see a furry, I’m asking, “Mate, chick or dude?” Straight-up, no bullshit. Let’s outrun this Revolution rerun, one clear answer at a time. Who’s in? 🍺 #BringBackTheOldDays