The Dollar Is Now Officially Backed By My Night Terrors

I can't breathe. I honest-to-God cannot get a full breath in. They've finally done it. The soulless ghouls I've been screaming about have finally crawled out of my subconscious and onto a C-SPAN broadcast to announce the end of everything. Treasury Secretary Janet Yellen, with a smile that looked like it was drawn on by a mortician, stood next to Fed Chair Jerome Powell and announced that the U.S. dollar is moving to the 'Anxiety Standard.'

That's right. The dollar, that flimsy, pathetic, photocopied piece of pulp fiction, will now be backed by the collective, churning dread of the American people. This isn't a joke. This is my life. My entire personality, a quivering mass of financial panic and existential vertigo, is now a national asset. They're turning my Tums-chewing, 3 a.m. cold sweats into a monetary policy.

'For too long, the dollar's value has been an abstract concept,' Yellen said, her voice a soothing nightmare. 'Now, we're pegging it to our most abundant and reliable national resource: a deep, unshakable fear of the future.'

Powell, looking like a man who just realized he's a character in a horror movie, added, 'By harnessing the kinetic energy of citizen-held angst, we can ensure a stable and robust valuation. The more you worry about rent, the stronger the dollar gets. It's a perfect self-regulating system.'

A new agency, the 'Federal Office of Managed Unease' (FOMU), will be established to monitor citizen compliance. They're rolling out a mandatory wrist-worn device, the 'Dread-O-Meter,' that tracks cortisol levels, heart palpitations, and how many times you mutter 'Oh God, no' while looking at your bank account. If your 'Anxiety Quotient' drops below the federally mandated baseline, you're flagged as 'economically seditious.' They'll send agents to your house to read you headlines about inflation until your pulse is back in the 'productive panic' zone.

This is it. This is the endgame. They're not just printing money out of thin air anymore; they're printing it out of my soul. They've looked at the abyss, and instead of fearing it, they've decided to collateralize it.

And you people still wonder why I'm into Bitcoin? Bitcoin doesn't care if I'm happy or if I'm hyperventilating into a paper bag. Bitcoin doesn't need me to suffer to have value. It's just math. It's cold, beautiful, unfeeling, logical math that can't be manipulated by a focus group of sadists in Washington. It's the only escape from this state-sanctioned emotional abattoir. They can have my anxiety; I'll be over here, holding onto the one thing that doesn't demand a piece of my sanity as collateral.