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As we gaze upon the daily chart, we behold a sight most wondrous: Ethereum consolidating above key moving averages, like a majestic eagle soaring above the fray 🦅. The 50, 100, and 200-day MAs, those stalwart sentinels of market momentum, stand stacked below price action, providing layered support, like a loyal entourage guarding their star 🤝. And though the RSI has remained in the neutral-to-bullish zone, a tantalizing 57, there’s still plenty of room for ETH to run, like a debutante at her first ball, before it becomes overbought 💃.

And so, they set out to raise a small fortune, a trifling SEK 516 million (~$54M), via share and convertible debenture issues. Because what’s a health tech firm without a Bitcoin treasury strategy, am I right? 💸

Meme coins aren’t just trending—they’re practically doing the Macarena in the middle of a crypto dance party! These coins are being fueled by viral social media campaigns, an army of retail traders, and a *lot* of speculation happening on both CEXs and DEXs. With market caps soaring higher than your last questionable decision, these meme coins have Lamborghini potential (we’re talking 7-10x returns in a single day, people). Basically, if you like living on the edge (or just want to impress your friends), meme coins are your new best friend. 🚗💨

Cronos (CRO) surged over 20% on Tuesday, a day that could have been titled “The Unexpected Inheritance,” after Trump Media and Technology Group filed with the U.S. Securities and Exchange Commission to launch a Blue Chip ETF. This ETF, a veritable who’s who of the crypto world, includes CRO alongside Bitcoin (BTC), Ethereum (ETH), Solana (SOL), and Ripple (XRP). Notably, Cronos received a 5% allocation, which is more than Ripple’s 2%. If approved, the ETF will be listed on NYSE Arca, and its assets will be custodied by Foris DAX Trust Company, Crypto.com’s custody arm. One can almost hear the sighs of relief from the CRO community, as if a long-lost relative had finally left them a small fortune.

This mysterious analyst, now apparently psychic with charts, informed his 153,500 followers on X (aka Twitter with a midlife crisis) that Bitcoin is teasing us with a bullish continuation pattern. Think it’s about to shoot up. Think fireworks. Think your mum’s look when she heard you bought crypto. 😱

And over yonder, Cronos — a coin, not a Greek god, though just as dramatic — shot up like a prairie jackrabbit spooked by the promise of regulatory filings. Meanwhile, Raydium tried to sneak in double-digit gains, and a bunch of memecoins tiptoed behind, uninvited but hoping for scraps. If you stepped back and squinted, you could almost call this market ‘stable,’ but we both know that word is more hope than fact out here. Market caps and volumes just keep pacing back and forth, like a worried shepherd counting sheep that refuse to stand still.

Brad Garlinghouse, Ripple’s ever-dapper CEO, is striding into the Senate today, sleeves rolled up, gaze fixed squarely on “clarity.” His full oration, conveniently pre-released (because who doesn’t love a spoiler), has all the élan of a Noël Coward curtain-raiser.

Thus began the grand adventure of the Pakistan Virtual Assets Regulatory Authority (PVARA), a noble quest to vanquish the darkness of unregulated digital finance and emerge victorious, with the shining armor of international best practices and Financial Action Task Force (FATF) guidelines.

Elon, who somewhere between launching rockets and courting controversy decided he knew a thing or two about justice, spat out a late-night truth. He scolded those trusted with both squirrels and scandals, as though accountability were a bird they’d forgotten to feed. Peanut—whose only crime was charm—was sent to meet his maker, while the notorious Epstein list remains a sort of secret club for the world’s rich and conveniently forgetful. The market, always hungry for spectacle, heard Elon’s bark and, like Pavlov’s dogs, traders rushed to buy that shiny PNUT.

In this languorous confinement, the price of Bitcoin exhausted itself hovering just above crucial support, whispering tales of strength that fooled no one but perhaps the most optimistic hodler. The very air seemed thick with expectation—it was the sort of silence before the family dinner erupts over whose turn it is to fetch the samovar. Volatility, like the patience of a Petersburg coachman, was vanishing, portending that an ominous—nay, fateful—move was surely gathering in the wings.