In the Catholic version of the ten commandments the first commandment is "I am the lord thy God, thou shalt not have strange gods before me."
Virtually nearly everyone in the crypto world has tried to profit from the Trump presidency, striking business deals with his family or seeking regulatory relief from his administration. But few have attempted it as boldly as the backers of $PATRIOT.
A memecoin is a type of cryptocurrency with hardly any function beyond speculation. It’s usually based on a viral joke or celebrity mascot, and worth only as much as online fans are willing to pay. The crucial ingredient is internet hype, enough to convince potential buyers that the price will keep going up. (Source: NY Times)
The crypto bros have been banging away at the grift for over a year, having started selling their memecoin after the ignominious 2024 election. During the inaguration festivities, they gave Trump's pal Steve Bannon a bronze miniature version.
Sales of the $PATRIOT took off.
But delays and infighting have marred the venture, offering a window into the volatile world of memecoins, which are plagued by scams that often end up costing investors money. The $PATRIOT coin’s price cratered last year, losing nearly all its value. As the coin’s backers rushed to finish the statue and boost coin sales, they clashed with their Ohio-based sculptor, Alan Cottrill.
There's a couple of problems floating around here. One is that the cryptos owe $75K for the IP rights to the statue. Despite not paying for those rights, it will come as a surprise to exactly no one, they've been using the copyrighted image in their marketing efforts. But the bigger problem - which will, once again, come as a surprise to exactly no one - is that Trump went ahead an launched his own competing memecoin, $TRUMP, which took off and cut into $PATRIOT sales.
By the way, I have no idea what his politics are, but Alan Cottrill is not some right wing nutter artist doing Trump-glorifying "art" like that produced by Jon McNaughton. "Art," e.g., like "MAGA Symphony," or as I like to think of it, "Sympathy for the Devil."
No, Cottrill is the real deal, and has created larger-than-life statues of the likes of George Washington, Thomas Jefferson, Jesse Owens, and George Marshall. Of course, the largest monuments he's made have only been 10-feet tall. Trump's, of course, had to be even larger than larger than life. And, of course, had to portray an idealized version of the man:
“I had him very lifelike,” Mr. Cottrill said in an interview last month. “The crypto guys said I had to get rid of some of the turkey neck. I had to thin him down.”
Because the statue is a) larger than life; b) flatters Tump; and is c) is gold covered, Trump likes what he's seen so far, and will likely be at the Doral unveiling whenever it happens. The crypto bros just need to pay what they owe Cottrill (which is the $75K for the intellectual property rights and another $15K worth of incidentals). Which they'll no doubt pony up if they want to see $PATRIOT get a boost.
If it's not toppled by a frothing crowd, I hope that Don Colossus is struck by lightning, blown over in a hurricane, swept away in a flood, sucked into one of those famous Florida sinkholes. It's colossally ridiculous, and a colossal embarrassment to our country.
Seriously, even among the most ardent of Trump cultists, there can't be many remaining who don't find this sort of glorification of Trump somewhat disturbing, creepy, unsettling. And let's not get into the banners of Trump now flowing near the flag at the Deparment of Justice, the renaming of the Kennedy Center, the proposal to add Trump to Mt. Rushmore, etc.
Donald J. Trump. Gotta be one of the all time strangest of strange gods.
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