At this point in history, our position is precarious.
Am I talking about politics? NO...well, maybe...maybe not. Haven't really thought this essay out beyond its opening sentence. If I want to talk politics, people run away just as I do when politics come up --either from someone else or from me when I am not quite myself. Maybe you have a friend who talks politics with you. Well, I know your friend and he drinks.
I have a friend too. He talked exclusively about politics for many years. Now he spends all his time peeling spots of light off the curtains and stuffing them into his wallet. He calls them Bitcoins. He doesn't drink. He is delusional. I will now post an enigmatic Normaphoto:
The Metatarsal Bar , a club, organized by podiatrists, known for its mixed drinks and pedorthic modifications. Many retired gardeners who, like me, at some point put a pick through one foot or the other, avail themselves of concoctions that reangulate the sagittal plane, and frequent the establishment. Our friend insisted on paying and, as usual, when he gets them out they twinkle like pixie dust and wiggle chuckling out the door. So the photo above shows two Bitcoins streaking into the sky. One seems to have snagged in a eucalyptus tree. However, in a second photo...
If only two of a thing exist in political-economic reality, they are rarities and each is worth half the money in the whole world. Just think how their value would rise if only one existed --all the money in the world! Or, if none existed, they'd be worth ALL the money in the Universe by the same ampliative calculus. So I hope they're headed somewhere that will appreciate them whether they exist or not.