And so the Lingerie Fighting Championships (forever BOTY in the vast Las Vegas expanse), our valiant troupe of women’s MMA, proclaims: $230,000 in bitcoin now, and then, with a pause for vodka and contemplation, $2 million sprinkled over the coming six months.
At a time when the world verily teeters on the brink of drama—think less garden party, more full-scale ballroom fracas—Dogecoin appears to have found its composure, presenting a respectable higher low. If only my cousin Lydia had shown as much restraint, we’d have been spared an entire volume! 📈😉
So, Grove gets launched, there’s a big press release, everyone puts on their best poker face, and suddenly, Sky’s ecosystem hands over a cool billion to invest in some “Janus Henderson Anemoy AAA CLO Strategy.” You know a name’s credible when it takes three breaths to say it. The twist? This is a fully tokenized fund, ‘cause who needs bonds or cash when you can have… tokens! 🪙
Not long ago, SUI was sliding downhill faster than Augustus Gloop in Willy Wonka’s chocolate river. But suddenly—WHAM!—it catapulted by 12.5%–15%, up to a sprightly $2.79, leaving short sellers spluttering into their cereal. Apparently, $2.40 isn’t just a number, it’s a magical Fibonacci number! (Whatever that means, it sounds suspiciously mystical 🧙♂️.)
The world’s finest and most valuable enterprises do not, I regret to report, sway upon the public stage. Alas, their charms are reserved for the select few, ensconced deep in portfolios, guarded by capital thresholds of an impertinent scale and adorned with velvet ropes so thick, one requires either a dukedom or at the very least, a distant cousin who wields a vast endowment.
“91% chance of $MSTR qualifying for S&P in 6 days.”
— Jeff Walton (@PunterJeff), June 24, 2025
What a peculiar invention! With the calculated dignity of a nobleman—and perhaps the subtlety of an overworked village tax collector—MWEB weaves a second ledger alongside every Litecoin block. Both are governed by proof-of-work miners, who, like conscientious peasants, never tire of their solemn duties. But through the magic of confidential transactions, CoinJoin revelry, and those elusive stealth addresses, the details of the peasants’ exchanges—how many chickens, how much wheat—are hidden from the prying eyes of the lord (and, perhaps more importantly, the neighbors).
Bitcoin, never one to shy from drama, sprinted above $102,500 as if chased by a bear that owed it money. Next thing, it’s rocketing past $103,200 and $103,500, earning a spot in the elusive “positive zone”—which is not, to be clear, anywhere near your therapist’s office.
Our intrepid analyst paints a scene where Bitcoin itself oozes down toward a “liquidity pocket” at $92,000–$95,000, like an extremely expensive soufflé collapsing in slow motion. The idea: mop up the final schmutter of bids and drag the altcoins by their lapels through the mud. “We’ve had the extra bit of flush down we were looking for,” he intoned—one can only assume he made this face: 😐—but the all-important higher-low/higher-high combo has not yet toddled onto the stage. Nor has the mystical RSI divergence, that rare crested newt of technical indicators. He concludes: “I think we’re close to a bottom. I don’t quite think we’re there.” A state of affairs guaranteed to leave one’s nerves fluttering like a butler’s apron in a gale.
And not only did they get more money, but now they pay less interest: just 9%. Before, it was a “floating” rate between 10.5% and 11.5%, which, coincidentally, is about what I pay my therapist to coach me through this much risk exposure.