I Bought $250,000 Worth of Cocaine No, that’s not a typo. That’s roughly 5 kilograms of ultra-pure, Bolivian flake — the kind of white asset class that’s been outperforming fiat, faith, and fiscal restraint since the 1980s. Most people would call it criminal. But let me explain the thesis. Each gram goes for about $50 today. But over the past 40 years, the street price of premium product has defied gravity, inflation, and international law — up nearly 900% since Reagan, and still climbing every time the Fed hikes rates. Meanwhile, governments keep inflating currencies and deflating dopamine. The world runs on anxiety and Adderall, but the real energy trade has always been white, scarce, and globally liquid. So what happens when the next crash hits, the markets freeze, and morale evaporates? When optimism becomes contraband, those who held the original confidence powder — the “hard assets” of the happiness economy — will see their margins skyrocket. Supply will vanish overnight, replaced by fentanyl-laced impostors and corporate substitutes. My $250,000 position, therefore, isn’t a “stash.” It’s an asymmetrical hedge against stagnation, prohibition, and despair. Worst case? I sit on $250,000 of historically inelastic demand — a tangible, portable reserve currency that never decays and always clears. Best case? Prices triple, cartels consolidate, or governments legalize and institutionalize the product, turning legacy purity into a collectible, tradable relic of the analog high. It’s not Bitcoin. It’s not bullion. It’s not even biotech. It’s five kilos of compressed confidence — a hedge against inflation, legislation, and motivation itself. That’s deep value. That’s the Cocaine Standard.