Politics - News Analysis

Trump Tanks the Already-Struggling ‘Let’s Go Brandon’ Cryptocurrency With His Endorsement

Everything he touches turns to garbage.

On a recent podcast, Donald Trump was gifted 500 billion “Let’s Go Brandon” tokens, a form of cryptocurrency like Bitcoin or Dogecoin. The alternative currency was invented last year during the phrase’s height of popularity.

The term itself, of course, comes from an interview done after NASCAR driver Brandon Brown won his first Xfinity Series race, and the crowd behind him was chanting “F*ck Joe Biden.” The reporter, embarrassed on all those idiots’ behalf, said they were chanting “Let’s Go Brandon” (which admittedly sounds similar).

The Brandon coins were already struggling financially. From January to February, the value of the currency tumbled more than 99 percent from its initial price. But it turns out that just having a stupid name and being backed by the world’s biggest morons wasn’t enough to really tank the fledgling coins.

When Trump was given the 500 billion LGB coins by the currency’s biggest backer James Koutoulas, his reaction was enthusiastic but hilariously Trump-like:

Sounds good to me! I don’t know exactly what it means, but it sounds good to me.

As it happens, Trump’s endorsement of the crypto did much the same as his endorsements do to political candidates. The Trump Curse struck again, and from midday Wednesday to early Friday, the value of the Let’s Go coins had dipped nearly twenty percent from their already-dismal value.

The currency was intended to be used to support participants in the “Freedom Convoy,” an affiliation of truckers who hate being told what to do, and thus oppose vaccine mandates. I’m not sure why they even stop at red lights, honestly. In fact, there are a lot of pesky mandates when you drive for a living — speed mandates, mandates that say they can’t use the left lane on a 4-lane highway, and mandates that they can’t smoke a bunch of crack behind the wheel and drive through buildings.

Trump would likely insist they had the constitutional right to do all of those things as well.

Andrew Simpson
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Andrew is a dark blue speck in deep red Central Washington, writing with the conviction of 18 years at the keyboard and too much politics to even stand. When not furiously stabbing the keys on breaking news stories, he writes poetry, prose, essays, haiku, lectures, stories for grief therapy, wedding ceremonies, detailed instructions on making doughnuts from canned biscuit dough (more sugar than cinnamon — duh), and equations to determine the airspeed velocity of an unladen swallow. In his spare time, Andrew loves to think about how nice it would be to have spare time.