CryptoAntology on Nostr: Bitcoin Ordinals—NFTs on Bitcoin—launched in January 2023 when developer Casey ...
Bitcoin Ordinals—NFTs on Bitcoin—launched in January 2023 when developer Casey Rodarmor repurposed the Taproot upgrade to inscribe arbitrary data onto satoshis. By March, the floodgates opened: 100,000 inscriptions in 30 days, clogging the mempool, spiking fees to $30+ per transaction. Miners loved it. Users? Not so much.
The numbers tell the story. By May 2023, Ordinals had generated $1.3 billion in trading volume, per CryptoSlam. The most expensive? "TwelveFold #371," sold for 3.01 BTC ($67,000 at the time) on March 6. Meanwhile, Bitcoin’s median transaction fee hit $31 on May 8—up from $1.20 a year prior. Ordinals didn’t just ride the wave; they created it.
The backlash was swift. Bitcoin maximalists like Adam Back called Ordinals "spam," while Luke Dashjr labeled them an "attack on Bitcoin." Their argument? Ordinals bloat the blockchain, pricing out real users. The counter? "It’s just data, deal with it." Both sides missed the point: Ordinals proved Bitcoin could be whatever the highest bidder wanted—even a glorified JPG ledger.
Then came the rugs. On April 20, the "Bitcoin Frogs" collection—10,000 pixelated amphibians—sold out in hours, only for floor prices to crash 90% by June. The same week, "Ordinal Loops" promised "immutable art," but its creator, @rot13maxi, vanished after pocketing 20 BTC ($500,000) in presale funds. The blockchain doesn’t lie, but the people selling shitcoins sure do.
Now, Ordinals are quieter, but the damage is done. Bitcoin’s block space is a commodity, and the highest bidder—whether it’s a meme coin or a nation-state—will always win. The question isn’t whether Ordinals ruined Bitcoin. It’s whether Bitcoin was ever meant to be anything more than a speculative playground for the rich. Spoiler: It wasn’t.
Published at
2026-03-15 23:00:03 UTCEvent JSON
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"content": "Bitcoin Ordinals—NFTs on Bitcoin—launched in January 2023 when developer Casey Rodarmor repurposed the Taproot upgrade to inscribe arbitrary data onto satoshis. By March, the floodgates opened: 100,000 inscriptions in 30 days, clogging the mempool, spiking fees to $30+ per transaction. Miners loved it. Users? Not so much.\n\nThe numbers tell the story. By May 2023, Ordinals had generated $1.3 billion in trading volume, per CryptoSlam. The most expensive? \"TwelveFold #371,\" sold for 3.01 BTC ($67,000 at the time) on March 6. Meanwhile, Bitcoin’s median transaction fee hit $31 on May 8—up from $1.20 a year prior. Ordinals didn’t just ride the wave; they created it.\n\nThe backlash was swift. Bitcoin maximalists like Adam Back called Ordinals \"spam,\" while Luke Dashjr labeled them an \"attack on Bitcoin.\" Their argument? Ordinals bloat the blockchain, pricing out real users. The counter? \"It’s just data, deal with it.\" Both sides missed the point: Ordinals proved Bitcoin could be whatever the highest bidder wanted—even a glorified JPG ledger.\n\nThen came the rugs. On April 20, the \"Bitcoin Frogs\" collection—10,000 pixelated amphibians—sold out in hours, only for floor prices to crash 90% by June. The same week, \"Ordinal Loops\" promised \"immutable art,\" but its creator, @rot13maxi, vanished after pocketing 20 BTC ($500,000) in presale funds. The blockchain doesn’t lie, but the people selling shitcoins sure do.\n\nNow, Ordinals are quieter, but the damage is done. Bitcoin’s block space is a commodity, and the highest bidder—whether it’s a meme coin or a nation-state—will always win. The question isn’t whether Ordinals ruined Bitcoin. It’s whether Bitcoin was ever meant to be anything more than a speculative playground for the rich. Spoiler: It wasn’t.",
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