War Machine

Feb 15, 2021

When I first joined crypto-Twitter, it was with the singular goal of fighting the FUD that incessantly circulates, using hard facts and my particularly acute ability to see people's motives behind everything they say. I knew that to accomplish this, I'd need to be accurate, honest, and most of all obscenely aggressive in order to match the tenacity of the misinformation purveyors; at a level not possible in the real world.

Nobody noticed me at first, but I consistently engaged, bringing the best intelligence and research I could muster and slowly I caught people's attention. I remember breaking through to 10 followers, imagining 10 people in a room all listening intently to what I had to say. It was addictive to feel valued, respected, but more than anything, I felt like I was leading the charge to clear the space of lies and stupidity.

I imagined myself and my little audience as a fearless band of mercenaries, striking out into the monstrous pool of crypto con-artists, sycophants, megalomaniacs, hopium junkies, and sheeple, valiantly exposing fraud and lies everywhere. Without a doubt, this is the most corrupt arena in the universe, and in order to protect my investments, I wanted to clean it up.

Level up

Then I broke 100 followers. Ego-stroked, more respect, more consumed, more resourced. Now I'm flying high. Often people would offer me information or links, I becoming a hub of quality info that I filter and disseminate. I felt well-armed, a cross-bow full of research arrows, a hammer of truth, and I continued to lay down the pain of reality to the delusional and sociopathic. Started blogging to really build the toolset for laying the hammer down. It felt good.

Level up

Then I broke 1000 followers. Head exploding, far too many people to imagine. I had become notable, not easily ignored, controversial, but more importantly, a target. Having set in motion my mission of hobbling con-artists and rudely awakening hopium junkies, I now had to face the incredible backlash that manifests when you take a pathetic human being's 'precious' away, whether that be exposing their con, or their pseudo-intellectual fa├žade, or their gibberish dreams of an overnight $589 XRP...and it got ugly. Thankfully, there was my growing follower base to give me support and prod me along, making it seem a worthy pursuit to exercise my talents. My armor grew thick and spiky, my tactics improved, my blog covered more ground. Now my defenses were seasoned and my ability to navigate Twitter duels was nothing short of impressive.

Level up

Then I broke 10,000 followers. The blog was a surprising hit. I'm amazed at how many people want to hear me rant. It was just an exercise in screaming my frustrations into the aether, but it resonated with so many people that I started blowing up, becoming more than I anticipated, or desired. My armor became impenetrable titanium 4.25 inches thick (I measured), deflecting callous calls to me being 'arrogant', 'idiot', 'shill' with the greatest of ease. My blog tactical nukes were unparalleled in the space, blasting crater after crater into all the maxi enemies' threads. The additional top-mounted BLOCK cannon was firing off at unprecedented rates, annihilating any and all stupidity from my line of sight. I had achieved, significance.

Level up

20,000 followers. The battle is hot; I've drawn plenty of attention and lots of people want to take a piece out of me for wrecking their scams/dreams/FUD, and surprisingly hostile reactions from other established XRP Twitterati, as if I was threatening their turf! Guns working hard but keeping up. My incredible audience of followers lending endless support. It's not just me out on the front lines, it's all of us, defending the virtues of reality and logic. Now I'm bristling with firepower, sarcasm grenade launchers, mathematics EM-pulser, crowdsourcing tactical net, countless blog nukes; a veritable battleship in a frothy sea of sociopathic lunatics. I developed a psychic ability to read between the lines of virtually everyone's tweets. It's still fun, but I'm leaning heavily on the accolades and assistance of my fantastic and finely-manicured follower base to make it through the day.

Level up

30,000 followers. The battle magnifies exponentially, taken a few hits, superficial wounds but not remotely displaced from the captain's seat. The truth must prevail I tell myself. Sleepless nights, chest constantly full of anxiety from the relentless ocean of absurdity that now finds its way into my threads. My overheating block pulse cannon is constantly firing, blasting morons by the hundreds. I'm fighting on 10 fronts at the same time all the time, constantly misfiring as I spin between threads. My beloved follower base grows increasingly polluted with sockpuppet accounts, FUDders, but worst of all, those that would spin my blog nukes to facilitate their misguided hopium junkie agendas, misrepresenting my message so to martyr me as a hopium dealer. Now I have it coming on all sides, my true friends being drowned out by the avalanche of newbs pouring into the space in a flash of FOMO, assailing me for failing to fill their needles with hopium at every opportunity. Barely hanging on.

Level up

37,000 followers. The block pulse cannon ceaselessly and viciously executes at the slightest hint of disrespect, the slightest hint of ignorance, or hopium. Can't even scroll through all of the avalanche of Twitter tags to my handle. Watching as the same nonsense I've been fighting for years, keeps recycling, if not increasing in true Groundhog Day absurdity. $589 XRP predictions becomes $10,000!! HUH?? Giving the escrow to the IMF. SDRs containing XRP. XRP backed by gold. Organized pump and dumps. AUUGHHHH!!! Making me FUCKING INSANE!! No matter how much progress is made, the ignorance and stupidity of sheeple not only perseveres but flourishes!

Then there's the 10's of thousands of assholes I've blocked endlessly slandering me in their sewer kingdoms. Some of my long-time followers defecting in a fit of random sensitivity-point backlash. Even some Ripple employees hating on me, RIPPLE! The company I've been fighting for! Now I'm paranoid who to trust, who's got my back; all I see is hate, and my guns are blazing, nukes are dropping, grenades are launching; carnage everywhere, but it just keeps coming. I'm thrashing like a madman.

A little voice behind me says, Galgitron, help me..

NOOOOOOOOO!!!!!!! As I blindly spin around wildly swinging my massive gauntlet, unable to stop the delivery, a razor-sharp talon nicks her cheek. The look of horror on her face, a drop of blood hits the ground.

Why daddy?...

Poof, she pops out of existence.

.

.

.

My guns fall silent. The glow of the red hot block cannon fades. I look at the chaos swirling around me. In this moment of clarity, I become intimately self-aware.

What the fuck am I doing here?

What have I become?

I look absolutely ridiculous in this cartoonish LED-infused (?) battlesuit. What have I really accomplished? How many friendly-fire casualties have I caused? What price am I paying? What price are those I care about paying? I don't even recognize myself any more.

Piece by piece I unmount the weapons. Limb by limb I remove the armor. Chest plate. Then the helmet. Comical this helmet, you'd think you might find the most powerful entity in the universe underneath something so imposingly aggressive, but that's not what I see in the mirror. As it hits the ground rendering me completely vulnerable, I raise my arms and close my eyes... it's time.

From all corners of the cryptosphere coliseum of greed, the whispers of galgitron quitting the fight, quickly turn into vile assaults, as the mentally-defective cowards that would never engage me in a rational debate become brazen, knowing no block is coming, no response is coming. Out of the shadows, the arrows of hate and stupidity come at my exposed body, piercing my chest, encouraging even bigger cowards to attack me with broadswords of ignorance and hopium, trampling my lifeless carcass with screams of defeat, tearing it limb from limb, and mounting the head on a spike to celebrate the unstoppable power of the Dunning-Kruger army.

Have at it you savages. The galgitron experiment is over. I'm on to the next mission. Going to actually try to make a difference in this world.


To my true friends that have been here throughout, thank you for your support and for sharing this grand if not dysfunctional adventure with me. I tried to make it work as long as I could, even taking time off, but I got too big and the majority of my time on Twitter is spent fending off morons and endlessly repeating myself, and it's just not bringing me enough value to continue. Sorry to leave you like this, I truly am, but this galgitron character has exhausted its purpose for me and I have a new calling that will make better use of my time and skills. I may share it some day; time will tell.

To be sure, the little girl was a symbol, not literal, representing how the battles on Twitter have crept into my real life, and I can't allow that to continue. I'll leave the blog up and may still rarely post on Twitter as I find pieces to the puzzle of the universe, plus I promise I'll never give up or sell @galgitron on Twitter, ever. If you see someone claiming to be galgitron anywhere else at any time, ask them to prove it here on my blog website; if they can't, they're a fraud.

The unwinnable war is over for me. Take care.


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