Without even noticing, I’ve started writing a series of essays about value‑for‑value.

It was a Friday when a friend suggested we watch a movie he’d been meaning to see, and I gladly agreed to watch it again: Ingmar Bergman’s The Seventh Seal (1957). I consider it one of those films that faces our fear of death head‑on—a gem released amid the looming dread of nuclear war. I search for it, see it’s on Prime Video and… well, time to subscribe. Then comes the ugliest banner imaginable: “This title is not available in your region.”

My friend and I exchange a look. He pulls out his notepad and recommends a torrent site. Annoyed at paying for something that doesn’t work, we find a high‑definition copy in three clicks. What do they expect? That when we hit this kind of wall we’ll just sit around waiting for Jeff’s good will?

This essay is about that very episode. After looking into it, I realized piracy is once again coming to the rescue—and value‑for‑value is becoming the inevitable path if creators actually want to earn money.

Right after that, I reviewed my Netflix bill. I’ve been a subscriber for more than ten years, and I remember exactly why: House of Cards. I wanted to see it, and Netflix was hailed as the piracy solution—one modest fee, a quality catalog, and I could share my password with others. Late last year they told me I could only use certain devices, I’d have to pay extra add‑ons, and a bunch of other irritating rules—but I wasn’t alone. The average streaming customer doesn’t churn because they refuse to pay; they churn because the monthly outlay now averages $69 and rising, destroying convenience. You have zero control over the catalog; no matter how much you pay, the title might not be available simply because there’s no availability.

So where do we end up? Back where we never should have left: the simplicity of piracy. Cultural analysts predicted this once the war on password sharing began—they said it would replay the 2004‑2008 era. They were right. Hard data beats feel‑good narratives of freedom. Piracy is popular again. On X or Reddit—pick your poison—it’s all the same. I thought this was unique to my region, but my service problem is a service insult.

As another analyst noted, the corporate response was the worst possible—yet the oldest playbook: merge brands, threaten everyone, launch anti‑piracy campaigns. It’s as if they dusted off the 2008 manual and ran it again. The irony? The black flag of piracy is the flag with no geo‑locks, no restrictions, user‑centered—exactly what Netflix once was.

Spotify, though more user‑friendly, isn’t so kind to artists. The numbers are ugly. Spotify pays $0.003‑$0.005 per stream. Unless you’re an industry juggernaut like Bad Bunny—Doctor Dre’s protégé, something on that level—you’ll earn nothing. In 2024 Spotify even cracked down on small artists: to collect any royalties, you must exceed 1 000 streams. If you’re an artist hoping to make a living, that’s a death sentence.

I’m not being pessimistic—Spotify itself says it: nearly 87 % of all tracks on the platform logged fewer than 1 000 plays in 2024. We are literally creating a dead zone: people listen, and no one gets paid. Fans aren’t stingy; the pool model is.

Consumers are asked to pay more even as the experience shrinks, and small artists are told to go viral, to become a profitable product. And they wonder why both groups look for the exit?

The v4v architecture flips the script: the creator is paid directly at the moment of a zap—no minimum, no paperwork, no boardroom. That’s possible because Lightning Network is scaling to route millions of transactions per second—one click and done.

And please, believe it: v4v works. You can download Fountain or use Breez, and that’s it. If you’re a podcaster reading this, just drop <podcast:value> into your RSS feed. Dear artist and listener, have you heard of a boostagram? Yes, we can set up a tip per minute listened.

“But I have to pay my producer and others.” My friend, Lightning lets you split payments in real time among guests, musicians—whoever—according to the percentages you set. I used to buy your CD; now I can send you value with zero friction, instantly. No 30‑day payout window, no platform fee ABC.

And yes, I know—it’s new. I’m not telling you to quit Spotify or Apple Music; I’m telling you to open one more lane (Wavlake) and let us, the fans, co‑create: zap for music, let us share in structured royalties. Micropayments let me pay you directly—global, open, fully transparent.

The counter‑intuitive part is that for years they told us piracy hurts the economy. Hurts whom? A good film disappears from my streaming platform for having fewer than 1 000 views; you as an artist have no future because you’re not viral. The v4v method already offers a fix: it lets your viewers and listeners send satoshis straight to your wallet, creating value outside the label labyrinth.

“But Bitcoin is hard to manage.” That’s when @Darthcoin’s words burned into my mind: custodial is a force and such, you should embrace it, use it, don’t dismiss it just because you don’t like the idea. Browsers like Alby, Wallet of Satoshi, Blink, and others ask nothing more than a quick signup.

Piracy is simple; streaming got complicated. Monopoly logic brought commercials back. Artists became expense lines. Fewer than 1 000 streams? You’re out.

The willingness to appreciate art is a long road, but if someone like me in Paraguay can enjoy a Texas country musician and send him 500 sats—friend, that’s pure magic.

Piracy isn’t a legal sin; it’s the market reacting to price friction. Streaming giants were born to fix that and forgot. Recognition alone no longer works; from my corner in Paraguay I’ve learned (and I hope you do too) the system is engineered for disappointment. No moral sermons needed—just let people do what they love and let others reward them.

So next time, try this: open Wavlake or Fountain, send a few satoshis to something you loved—feel yourself become part of the art. Why? Because a culture of gratitude makes you part of the art—and even is the art.

Be the change you preach, one satoshi at a time.