Well, that didn’t take long. In what’s becoming a routine political tug-of-war, the Trump administration (yes, back again) has rescinded the Biden-era Department of Labor (DOL) guidance cautioning plan sponsors against offering cryptocurrency in 401(k) plans. To quote every compliance officer I’ve ever met: here we go again. Now let me be clear—I love crypto. I believe in decentralization, innovation, and financial technology that isn’t stuck in the Stone Age of paper checks and fax machines. I think crypto has a role to play in the future of retirement planning. But like any shiny new object in the retirement space, it needs to be handled with a mix of curiosity, caution, and common sense. Just because the DOL has backed off doesn’t mean you should go rushing to throw Bitcoin into your investment lineup like it’s a Target Date Fund. Fiduciary responsibility doesn’t vanish with a policy shift. ERISA didn’t change overnight. If I were ever to offer crypto in a 401(k)—and I’m not saying I would, just if—I certainly wouldn’t do it through some fly-by-night crypto wallet company that promises the moon, charges you the stars, and stores your coins on a server in someone’s basement. No, I’d use a trusted custodian—someone with experience, infrastructure, insurance, and a track record of not disappearing when the market tanks. Because let’s not forget: plan sponsors have a duty of prudence. That means understanding what you’re offering, why you’re offering it, and how it fits into the larger plan structure. Offering crypto in a plan isn’t inherently imprudent—but doing it with the wrong partner absolutely is. So while the political pendulum swings, let’s remember our job hasn’t changed. We’re still here to protect participants, build smart plans, and avoid ending up as the cautionary tale at the next ASPPA conference. Stay curious. Stay cautious. And please—if you’re going to offer crypto in a 401(k), don’t let a Reddit thread be your due diligence.

Absolutely. Here’s your piece in the voice of Ary Rosenbaum—refined for tone, rhythm, and clarity while keeping the conversational, legal-insider style you’re known for.

When I was in law school, I was the editor of the student magazine. One semester, I broke a story about a scandal at one of the law journals. The editor-in-chief of that journal—who didn’t appreciate the spotlight—handed me a letter from her attorney. It asked for my sources, who I talked to, what I knew, and everything but my name, rank, and serial number. It was the first time I was ever threatened with a lawsuit, and I’ll be honest: I was hyperventilating.

Then I looked down at my desk and noticed something interesting—the work number for this editor-in-chief was the same number listed for her attorney. Turns out, this “attorney” was someone who practiced international law, not libel. That taught me two things very quickly: First, people will weaponize the appearance of legal muscle even when there’s no bite behind the bark. Second, a lawyer’s letter is often more about pressure than position.

Fast-forward to today: I write an annual article (except, notably, the 16th annual edition this June) about payroll providers and third-party administrators. More than once, I’ve been threatened with litigation over it. Clients, non-clients, industry players—they all seem to have a lawyer on speed dial when the truth gets a little too uncomfortable.

Sometimes these threats are real—especially when there’s actual liability exposure. But most of the time, it’s a tactic, a scare move meant to get you to back off or shut up. When I got that letter in law school, I gave it to the Dean. His advice? “Settle immediately.” That was lousy advice. Here’s better: when you get a letter from a lawyer, speak to a lawyer. A good one will help you figure out if it’s a bluff or a bomb.

I get it—lawyers are expensive. Except me. But the worst mistake you can make is thinking you can handle a legal threat on your own.

A lawyer letter is like a hand in poker—sometimes it’s a bluff, sometimes it’s four aces. You need someone who knows how to read the table and tell you what’s real. If you get one of those letters, you know where to find me.