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@ What Cant Be Printed
2025-05-24 20:06:04In March 2020, Lucas was afraid.
The economy was grinding to a halt. Markets were in freefall. In a sweeping response, the Federal Reserve launched an unprecedented intervention—buying everything from Treasury bonds and mortgages to corporate debt, expanding the money supply by $4 trillion. At the same time, the U.S. government issued over $800 billion in stimulus checks to households across the country.
These extraordinary measures may have averted a wave of business failures and bank runs—but they came at a cost: currency debasement and rising inflation. Alarmed by the scale of central bank intervention and its consequences for savers, Lucas decided to act.
In a state of mild panic, he withdrew $15,000 from his bank account and bought ten gold coins. Then he took another $10,000 and bought two bitcoins. If the dollar system failed, Lucas wanted something with intrinsic value he could use.
He mentioned his plan to his friend Daniel, who laughed.
“Why don’t you stock up on guns and cigarettes while you’re at it?” Daniel quipped. “The Fed is doing what it has to—stabilizing the economy in a crisis. Sure, $4 trillion is a lot of money, but it's backed by the most productive economy on Earth. Don’t panic. The world’s not ending.”
To prove his point, Daniel put $25,000 into the S&P 500—right at the pandemic bottom.
And he was right. Literally.
By Spring 2025, the stock market was near all-time highs. The world hadn’t ended. The U.S. economy kept moving, more or less as usual. Daniel’s investment had nearly tripled—his $25,000 had grown to $65,000.
But oddly enough, Lucas’ seemingly panicked reaction had been both prudent and profitable.
His gold coins had climbed from $1,500 to $3,300 apiece—a 120% gain. Bitcoin had soared from $5,000 to $90,000, making his two coins worth $180,000. Altogether, Lucas’s $25,000 allocation had grown to $213,000—a nearly 10x return. And his goal wasn’t even profit. It was safety.
With that kind of fortune, you’d expect Lucas to feel confident, even serene. He had more than enough to preserve his purchasing power, even in the face of years of inflation.
But in the spring of 2025, Lucas felt anything but calm.
He was uneasy—gripped by a sense that the 2020 crisis hadn’t been a conclusion, but a prelude.
In his mind, 2020 was just the latest chapter in a troubling sequence: the Asian financial crisis in 1998, the global financial crisis in 2008, the pandemic shock of 2020. Each crisis had been more sudden, more sweeping, and more dependent on emergency measures than the last.
And Lucas couldn’t shake the feeling that the next act—whenever it came—would be more disruptive, more severe, and far more damaging.