Trump’s 100-Day Crypto Circus: From Memecoins to Tariff Tantrums and Impeachments?

As the curtain rose on President Trump’s latest run at governing, the crypto industry found itself starring in a feature-length comedy worthy of Pinewood or, failing that, a particularly lively Westminster scandal. Trump, now with a family memecoin and promises of American Bitcoin exceptionalism, managed to upend markets, disrupt global trade, and breed more government crypto enthusiasts than a libertarian’s fever dream at Burning Man. 🍿

With a trade war pitched against all who dared to dream of a better spreadsheet, crypto prices wobbled like a City banker at 11:55pm on bonus day. Miners, those modern-day prospectors, found their dreams panning for gold increasingly threatened by the climbing cost of electronics. Naturally, all macroeconomic anxieties were assuaged by reassuring statements from officials with names like “crypto czar.”

Surprisingly, the markets weren’t entirely tanked, though one wondered if this was resilience or simply confusion. Pro-crypto faces now adorned the SEC and CFTC – the kind of appointments normally reserved for the aftermath of a particularly brutal staff party, or possibly a game of musical chairs gone rogue. Regulation was said to be “imminent,” which in Washington translates to: “expect a robust new framework in time for your great-grandchildren’s NFT launch.”

January 20: Swearing In (and Swearing at the Launch of WLFI Memecoin)

On the fateful day Trump took the oath, the family’s latest crypto bauble — the World Liberty Financial (WLFI) token — hit the stage with the enthusiasm of a debutante ball. Demand soared, despite the token’s notable lack of actual market utility, tradability, or, for that matter, purpose. A splendid start.🐣

This memecoin was more than a mere digital trinket: it heralded Trump’s unwavering commitment to blockchain, punctuated, of course, by hordes of moral busybodies clutching pearls at the spectacle. One wonders if Washington ever truly recovers from these things.

January 20: Crypto Czar-Ups and Regulatory Reshuffles

Day one saw a dizzying round of musical chairs. Trump awarded the SEC to Paul Atkins, beloved by blockchain buffs, replacing Gary Gensler — public enemy #1 for those who believe the true American spirit is best expressed by betting on frog-themed tokens at 3am.

Brian Quintenz found himself at the CFTC. Meanwhile, David Sacks became the High Priest of Tech, or at least chair of Trump’s new council (because what’s a presidency without at least one advisor named David?). Confirmation battles soon followed. Parliament could only wish for such procedural entertainment.

January 21: Enter the $500-Billion Stargate, Because Why Not?

Trump, never one to do things by halves, announced a $500-billion AI adventure, “Stargate.” Backed by OpenAI, SoftBank, and Oracle, the scheme promised 10,000 American jobs, intergalactic prestige, and presumably, a talking toaster for every home. “We want it to be in this country,” he declared, shocking precisely no one.

OpenAI muttered about “strategic capabilities” and defending America and its allies — perhaps with robot butlers, given enough funding.

Ross Ulbricht: Presidential Phone-a-Friend

The president very publicly called up the family of Silk Road’s Ross Ulbricht to announce a commuted sentence. Ulbricht, notable for giving Bitcoin its original after-dark buzz, became a libertarian legend and very awkward dinner conversation subject for federal prosecutors. 🍝

Freeing Ulbricht wasn’t just policy — it was campaign crowdfunding for the crypto set, served with extra tabloid juice.

January 23: Ban the Digital Dollar, Form a Crypto Club

Trump, clearly having binge-watched too much “Black Mirror,” signed an executive order banning the Federal Reserve’s digital dollar project and set up a crypto task force — as if Washington didn’t already have enough people “task-forcing” their way through lunch.

CBDCs, the bogeyman of privacy activists and a favourite bedtime story for central bankers, were sent packing in favour of new plans for US government Bitcoin reserves. Brexiteers eat your heart out. 🇬🇧

February 1: Tariffs Galore – Allies and Enemies, Please Queue Here

Within a week, Trump’s trade crusade showed its teeth. Canada, Mexico, and China got tariffs for breakfast, lunch, and dinner, briefly sparking a “who can retaliate quickest” contest, probably with branded commemorative mugs. Markets responded by swooning in a manner reminiscent of Edwardian fainting couches. Crypto miners considered relocation to a less expensive galaxy.

February 12: James Bond, Crypto Edition – The Vinnik Swap

Diplomatic backchannels roared into life: Alexander Vinnik, Bitcoin laundryman extraordinaire, was exchanged for a schoolteacher with a penchant for Moscow’s finest bushweed. Espionage, crypto, and legal grey zones — it’s all very 2020s Bond, just with worse suits.

February 18: SBF Begs for Mercy, With Bonus Subtlety

Sam Bankman-Fried, channeling the plaintive whine of an 18th-century debtor, pleaded his political case in the press, insisting the Republican Party was “reasonable” and dropping not-so-veiled hints for a Trump pardon. Bonus points to SBF for somehow making bankruptcy look like it should come with a polo trophy.

Judge Kaplan became the villain of the piece — apparently this season’s must-have role.

March 7: Trump’s Strategic Bitcoin Reserve – Seize First, Ask Questions Later

On the 46th day, Trump decreed America would found a Bitcoin “reserve,” which proved about as concrete as a soufflé. Seized Bitcoin, yes. New government Bitcoin, not so fast — unless someone in the Treasury knows how to double-spend a budget. Other cryptocurrencies found themselves curated in the Digital Asset Stockpile, because why let Bitcoin monopolize the embarrassment?

March 7: The Great Crypto Summit and the Exalted List of Attendees

Washington finally hosted its own Crypto Cotillion, with Michael Saylor, Brian Armstrong, and David Sacks in attendance. Sadly, Charles Hoskinson — eternal plus-one reject — streamed his own panel, lamenting the glacial pace of real legislative action. 🥂

As ever, there were more cameras than participants, and the afterparty featured complaints about regulatory “method” (i.e., doing precisely nothing, but thoughtfully).

March 25: WLFI Gets “Stable” – Kind Of

WLFI took a bold new leap into stablecoins, launching USD1 — solemnly backed by the full faith of US government short-term treasuries and other IOUs to be named later. Predictably, critics called for an ethics probe, arguing the line between policy and pump-and-dump had become as blurred as Trump’s evening Tweets.

April 2: Liberation Day – Let’s Tariff Everyone!

If you’ve got a border and a grudge, you got a tariff. Trump celebrated “Liberation Day” by raising everyone’s import bill to double digits and sending markets into another funk — somewhere between a gentle migraine and a full-on existential crisis. US-based crypto miners, last seen pricing flights to Iceland, despaired.

Anthony Scaramucci, never one to waste a microphone, labeled the first 95 days the “worst in modern history,” noting $9 trillion had left the US stock market, presumably searching for saner leadership (or at least warmer weather). “The lies are ok,” Scaramucci observed cheerfully, “but don’t start wars just to cover them up.”

April 25: $300,000 Memecoin Dinners, Serving Side Dishes of Impeachment

Exclusive access was rumored for memecoin whales, with dinner with the president allegedly going for $300,000 a plate. The White House denied it, naturally, but somewhere, a campaign treasurer developed a sudden interest in NFT catering.

Senator Jon Ossoff loudly endorsed impeachment, and social media churned out memes faster than Congress could churn out subpoenas.

Finale: One Hundred Days, Some Drama, No Dullness

If crypto wanted disruption, it got the full three-ring circus: regulatory reshuffle, ethical slalom, market chaos, and the ever-expanding shadow of presidential memecoins. The congressional scrum over stablecoin legislation, backed by the STABLE Act and its new pal the GENIUS Act, continues unabated. True to form, the next 100 days will likely deliver the same spectacle — heavy on drama, light on dullness, and always, always at someone else’s expense. 🎪

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2025-04-29 15:24