Crypto is still enthusiastic
The early days of the Texas oil rush were hard.
In the 1930s, wildcatters picked their drilling sites almost at random, with not much to go on other than guesswork (presented as science to investors).
The vast majority of wells came up dry.
That hardly put people off, though. Texans were eager risk takers. New wells were often financed by locals buying $25 shares to fund a single drill site.
In the Depression-era 1930s, $25 was a lot to spend on what was effectively a lottery ticket.
Crowds would gather to watch a derrick break new ground — investors hoping to see their investment come good and neighbors hoping to see evidence there was oil below their properties, too.
They almost always went home disappointed.
Often, the wildcatters were drilling in the right place, but not getting deep enough because the drill bits used at the time weren't able to get through the layer of rock that covered many oil fields.
Other times the oil was simply buried too deep, beyond the reach of even the newest derricks.
Or an older derrick would collapse into a sinkhole. Or fly into pieces. Or burst into flames.
Occasionally, though, a gusher would be hit, sending a plume of oil hundreds of feet in the air and the assembled onlookers into a frenzy.
A few of those investors made decent returns and some of the drillers made fortunes.
But many, many more lost everything.
You might think the odds should have been better than that. How could anyone go broke drilling for oil in Texas???
But, in the early days, nearly everyone did.
The few generational fortunes that were made were made by those who stuck with it through seemingly endless failures and frustrations.
Mostly they stuck with it as an article of faith.
It's not that they knew the science better (there wasn't much science to know) or that they had better intuition as to where to drill (they all thought they did, but they didn't).
For the most part, the successful drillers were some combination of stubborn and delusional.
They would bet their very last dime — as well as every dime they could beg, borrow, or steal from friends and families — on their ability to find oil where others hadn't.
When they did find it, they'd bet it all on finding it again.
Usually, they didn't.
But some did. Their success is evidence that to strike it big, stubborn and delusional might be what’s required.
Because if it was easy, it would already have been done. And if it was a matter of logic, someone would have already logic-ed it out.
Those giant oil fields were not going to be found by people making carefully calculated bets for rationally explainable reasons.
They were only going to be found by people willing to go against the well-reasoned advice of every sober-minded observer and bet it all. Repeatedly.
To me, it sounds a lot like betting on crypto in 2023.
So I think Texas is a fitting site for the best crypto conference of the year.
I'm looking forward to spending the next few days among the thousands of definitely stubborn and possibly delusional people gathered here in Austin for Permissionless II.
To have stuck with crypto through the 15 grueling months since Permissionless I, you may have to be at least a little stubborn or a little delusional.
If you’re one of those people, come find me. I want to hear why you’re still enthusiastic, despite all of crypto’s stumbles.
And if you’re not one of those people — if you’re wondering what those people could possibly be thinking — I’ll try this week to share as much of Permissionless as I can, to give you an idea.
Either way, thanks for coming along on this crazy quest to strike crypto oil.
