(The scene is in Hell at the annual dinner of the Tempters’ Training College for young devils. The principal, Dr. Slubgob, has just proposed the health of the guests. Screwtape, a very experienced Devil, who is the guest of honour, rises to reply:)
My dear wiztards, and to all of you whose patient work has brought us to this satisfying evening, I propose a toast. Not to victory, you understand—that is a crude, mortal concept. No, I propose a toast to a masterpiece of subtlety, to a symphony of self-destruction. I give you... Operation Divide and Con-Core.
We have learned much since the crude temptations of the last century. The old ways, the overt assault, are for amateurs. Our patient, meticulous work on this so-called "Bitcoin" is a case study for the ages. They thought they were building a fortress of incorruptible math to defy us. How utterly droll. We simply showed them that the path to our Father's house is paved with good intentions, and we taught them to use their own wretched currency to pay the pavers.
The first stroke of genius, you will recall, was not a temptation of the flesh but of ambition. We whispered in the ears of the miners, fanning their pride until the great hashing power was consolidated into a few greedy pools. This was the masterstroke that rendered their entire immune system impotent. It made any defense by the common nodes filters purely symbolic, a pathetic gesture. With the muscle already in our pocket, we could begin to poison the soul.
And what a poison! We did not send a legion of fiends to storm their gates. We sent a single, whisper-quiet ghost, a phantom of our own crafting, who offered them a gift. The Ordinals protocol! We wrapped it in their most sacred language: "digital artifacts," "immutable expression," "Inscribed on the timechain". The fools, blinded by their own self-important ideology, welcomed it as a triumph of their will. They never saw that they were simply learning a new, more efficient way to mint what we have always called "hell money."
With the seed planted, our real artistry began. We took their greatest virtue—"freedom"—and forged it into the most exquisite weapon for their own undoing. We taught them to wield it not as a shield, but as a sword against their own kind. Any who dared to question the poison flooding their veins were branded, by our own amplified mouthpieces, as heretics, as censors. It was divine comedy. We co-opted their most sacred principle to defend the most corrosive of activities. We even conned their high priests, some Core developers, not with complex ideology, but with simple flattery and access, turning them into the perfect, well-behaved puppets who would argue for the "neutrality" the poison as it coursed through their system's veins.
Now, the harvest is so bountiful it is almost gluttonous. The inscriptions were merely the appetizer. The main course is a grotesque feast of "Bapps" and Ethereum-style filth, all conjured "on Bitcoin." The bloat, the congestion—these are not side effects; they are the entire point. Every new scam minted is another soul, another tiny, permanent weight on their chain, making it more expensive for a common man to participate, pushing him out, ensuring the centralization and control we desire. The attack is now self-sustaining, a perfect, damned circle funded by the very hell money they print.
But the final, most glorious act, the one that brings a tear to my eye, is the schism we so carefully orchestrated. We knew their uncompromising champions would eventually rise to fight the rot. We counted on it. The faction behind the Bitcoin Knots client are not our enemy; they are the perfect, unwitting patsies in our grand theater. When they proposed a soft fork to exorcise the very demons we summoned, the show began. Our network screamed "Censorship!" The conned Core devs and our wiztards played their part, warning of the "dangers of changing consensus." We forced them into a choice between their savior and their so-called principles, knowing the emotional argument would win. The debate is no longer about saving their world; it's a political war we designed to be unwinnable, ensuring perpetual stalemate while the world they built rots from within.
So raise your glasses. They are fighting amongst themselves, fracturing their own community, trapped in a paradox of their own making, defending their freedom to become centralized slaves to the very hell money they create. The beautiful creation is now a grotesque parody of itself, and the best part, the most delicious part, is that they did it all to themselves. The plan is not just working; it is perfection.
# To Operation Divide and Con-Core!
#spamwars #psyop #bitcoin #core #v30 #knots #hellmoney #inscriptions #brc20 #BitVM