Approximately 1 Year Ago In An Undisclosed Location Somewhere In Shropshire, England, UK, CryptoSphere. "You may remove the blindfold now Fomo. My name is Mofopheus and I do indeed apologise for the theatrics. However, once you understand why we have brought you here today you will realise why it is necessary for us to take every precaution in order to protect ourselves. Now, before you say anything, please allow me a few moments to illuminate you about our world and your place in it. This is going to be difficult for you to understand but you and I and everyone you know, we all exist in a fabricated illusion. An illusion that is based upon a lie. You see, we all believe that we have freedom of choice. The freedom to choose how we wish to live our lives. But the truth is, we are all a part of a vast herd of mememanity that is being corralled and manipulated by a small but powerful cadre of crypto whales, insiders, influencers, market makers, and venture capitalists,. These evil beings want us all to own nothing and be happy about it. They consider us to be their sheep. To them we are all nothing but sheeple to be fleeced at their bidding. They look upon us as nothing more than their exit liquidity that they can dump on time and time again. How many countless times have VCs 100x or 1000x their money at our expense? For instance, did you know that an insider turned $400,000 into $120 million on a certain dog meme coin with the initials S. I.? Who in their right mind would risk $400,000 on a doggy coin unless they were absolutely certain that they were going to make a huge windfall? This is but one blatant example of insider manipulation that I can cite for you. We have brought you here today in order to give you an opportunity to see our CryptoSphere as it truly is. To free you from the mental shackles that have up until now chained and bound your perception. To become a pure degen all you have to do is take this orange pill." Orange pill? What is this daft wanker on about then? The poor sod must be suffering from heat stroke or something because it's so hot in this room right now that it feels as though I've got Niagara Falls cascading down me plumber's crack. Yet this idiot is wearing a black heavy leather overcoat for some unknown reason. And for that matter why the hell is he wearing dark shades? It's so dark in here right now I can barely see the wanker. I was just about to tell him where he could insert his orange jelly bean before giving him a good n' proper two finger salute on my way out, when there was a knock on the door. After a brief pause the door opened and an absolute vision that illuminated my soul stepped into the room. When the vision spoke, this is what she said. "Hello Fomo, my name is Trimity and I really hope you decide to join us." Admittedly, the next sequence of events are all a bit of a blur to me now. But I think I just stared at Trimity for a number of moments. Me heart began to beat almost as fast as the latest rug pull on Pump.Fun and I started to swallow involuntarily a number of times. The head of me Adams Apple rapidly bobbing up and down, up and down, up and down. Similar to an over worked, meth fueled adult film star earning her pay. I then looked over at Mofopheus. Then back to Trimity and then back to Mofopheus. The whole time I was thinking to myself, play it kool now Mofo ol' boy, play kool. Don't appear to be to eager. Remember, they came to you. Slow it down and say something witty and sophisticated. Suddenly it came to me, I've got it! I know exactly what I'll say. I'll look at Mofopheus and casually say, "I'll take two." Then I'll glance up at Trimity and give her a sly yet subtle wink. It all sounded so good in me head. Unfortunately, for yours truly, the actual words that came out of me mouth in a rush and a high-pitched squeak like a choir boy going through puberty was, "Is that orange pill safe to take on an empty stomach? Or do you recommend that I should take it with food? Cos if you think I should take it with food, perhaps you know of a decent curry takeout place nearby?" Well lads, what can I say? Every meme has his weakness. My kryptonite just happens to be hot black latex. Trimity was also wearing a pair of shiny black razor sharp 5 inch stilettos as well. I never stood a chance! But I ain't no gimp! Present Day First off, if you don't know what the first four letters in me name stand for, you should move along newbie cos you're probably just gonna get yourself rekt. However, if you do get it, then you must be a degen like yours truly. In which case, I cordially invite you to read on. I like that expression; cordially invite. I heard it one time when me mum was watching an episode of Downton Abbey on the telly. Please allow me to introduce myself. Me name be Fomo but me mates and family call me Mofo. And I cordially invite you to call me the same. Now you must be wondering, how does anyone let alone a meme like me acquire such a nickname? Well, to answer that question I'll have to hit rewind on the good ol' way back playback machine! I came into this world on a very dark and stormy night in East London. Now for those of you who aren't familiar wif the part of the world that I grew up in, East London is the kind of place where we speak the true Queen's English. Sorrie, I keep forget'n Queen Lizzie is gone and no longer wif us and now it's King Chuckie who be in charge of keeping the crown jewels safe and secure in his wrinkly Royal rucksacs. Me apologies Chuckie. God save the King, Rule Britannia, and all that. Har Har, What!? I'll give you an example of what I mean when I say we speak the King's English around these parts. Unlike our yank cousins across the pond we pronounce the word "butter" proper like the way it's supposed to be pronounced, as "butt'rr". Get it? Good! Now where was I? Oh righto, I came into this world on a dark and stormy night. Believe it or not, I could sense the thunder, lightning, and pounding rain from inside me mum's tummy. So I decided right there and then I was going to just stay a nice long while in this warm and safe place. That was the plan anyway, until over the sound of the storm I heard the sweetest most angelic voices urging me to come on out! Well lads, I tells ya, I was soooo curious to find out where those sweet voices were coming from that I shot out of me mum at terminal velocity! Almost as fast as I've heard certain projectiles are launched in some establishments in the red light district of Amsterdam. I've heard about this phenomenon second hand from one of me mates. Kinda like that lad Icarus who got too close to the sun, me mate, well he got too close to the action and took a shot right smack dab in the eye! Now, we all know it's all just fun and games until someone takes one in the eye! Right! Har Har, What!? For any of you who might be interested, I'm told the establishment is pseudonymously known as PlanB and Stockings van de Flow be the name of the model. Who apparently is known for constantly changing her show in order to prove to all of the punters that her show is indeed the best in town. So, I shot out of me mum almost as fast as an over leveraged degen trader frantically hitting the sell button during an Arthur Hayes/BitMEX liquidation wick. Luckily for yours truly, Doctor Patel came from a long line of renowned cricketers. He caught me on the one hop and then slammed the bed post like a wicket keeper for the out! From that day forward his actions became a part of hospital lore and will forever be known as, 'Dr Patel's Immaculate Reception.' So whilst everyone was still in shock at my rapid and sudden arrival, I had a quick look around to suss out exactly where those sweet and heavenly angelic voices had emanated from. Somehow me newborn baby meme brain was able to figure out it was the three delivery room nurses who had literally drawn me out into this world of ours. I immediately fixated on the nurse who was the most physically gifted of the three and began to wail at the top of me little meme lungs. All whilst frantically pointing both me legs, me arms, me head, and both me eyes directly at her. When Dr Patel began to move in the direction of me mum, I began to wail even louder and flail me little arms, legs, and head towards the nurse. Dr Patel, being a very astute fellow was able to ascertain me intentions. He brought me over to the nurse and placed me in her arms. Once she tucked me against her chest and I felt that billowy softness, well lads I knew right then and there I'd found me happy place. For I immediately stopped wailing and flailing and began to gurgle, giggle, and smile. I locked me baby blues on to her loveliness. Somehow the nurse must have known through female instinct, intuition, and nonverbal communication, that I was inviting her back to me crib so she could watch me slowly and deliberately suck on me pacifier. It was at this point she exclaimed, wif a girlish giggle and blush, "Well my goodness gracious, but I do believe this little meme baby is going to grow up to be one bad to the bone Motherf...ker! Pardon my French." Well there you have it lads. That's how I became known as Mofo. Har Har, What!? Well lads, it's a good thing for yours truly the angelic nurse's words proved to be prophetic. For growing up in me neighbourhood wif a nickname like Mofo was not the easiest existence let me tells ya. Cos unlike in some parts of say North London where the meme kids are told they can be one of only three things when they grows up; either a doctor, a lawyer, or a failure. We kids around these parts were under similar how they say, societal pressures. Except for us, our choices were somewhat different. For we could grow up to be either a badass, a kickass, or an arsehole. Let me tell you if you were unfortunate enough to be known as one of the latter you learned very quickly ur best mates growing up we're going to be two highly polished and shiny identical twins named Doc Martens and your backside was going to get to know them all too well. Har Har, What!? Now whenever I came down with a bit of the sniffles and a sore throat and me mum would keep me home from school until I felt better, me favourite thing to do was to watch old reruns of Star Trek. My favorite episode was the one where Mr Spock is going through, 'pon farr' the Vulcan version of the 7-year itch. Therefore, the crew of Enterprise makes a emergency visit to Vulcan so he can relieve said itch. It be me favourite episode for a couple of reasons and both revolve around Captain Kirk. The first one is the look on Captain Kirk's face when he finds out Mr Spock only gets some every 7 years. You can almost read his mind. You just know he's thinking something along the lines of, "I finally understand why Mr Spock is such a tight arse!" I gotta say lads, I gotta agree wif Captain Kirk. If I had to wait 7 years to tap tah tah tap the missus, me arms would probably look completely lopsided. Kinda like that tennis player Rafael Nadal's arms and it wouldn't be from serving and volleying if you know what I'm saying! If it had been yours truly in Mr Spock's predicament, I probably would have found a bit of relief by often and repeatedly envisioning myself double faulting all over Nurse Chapel. The second also had to do with the look on Captain Kirk's face when he finds out how foxy looking Mrs Spock is. Again, you can almost read his mind. This time you know he's thinking something along the lines of, "Why Mr Spock, you little muppet, I didn't know you had it in you. Now I understand why you've been hiding her away for all these years! Now let's duel to the death to see who gets to claim her!" Roll the soundtrack. Dun dun dun dun dun dun dun dun dun dun dun dun...brrrrup! brrrrup! Which is why Captain Kirk has always been me favourite captain. In fact, I truly believe he was indeed The OG Degen. Captain Kirk was so degen, he didn't even know he was degen. To him it didn't matter if the creature had pink skin, green skin, purple skin, was gaseous, a solid, consisted of pure energy, came from a past or future timeline, an alternate reality, an alternate universe, was base, woke, bespoke, bi, bi curious, tri, quad, androgynous, gender positive, gender neutral, trans,...well you get the picture. It just didn't matter to Captain Kirk. If given half a chance he was going to try for a wee bit of a taste test. Captain Kirk was on a 5-year mission to go where no man has gone before! Har Har, What!? So now that you know a little bit about me. I would like to cordially invite you, me fellow degens to join our merry band of brothers. I picture us as being sort of like Robin Hood and his merry men. With one notable exception that is. For my plan is for us to rob from the rich. Which in our case would be all the crypto whales but instead of giving it all to the poor, or for our purposes the wee little minnows, I say we keep it all for ourselves! The wee minnows can sod off! For I don't know about all you lads but I'm here to stack sats! The primary goal of our merry band of degens will be to become not crypto whales ourselves but instead... dolphins. Ya, you heard me right. Dolphins. "But Mofo." I can hear all of you protesting. "Dolphins ain't never hurt nobody I don't want to be no cutesy dolphin!" Easy there lads easy now. For there be a method to Mofo's madness. For I found out from the foremost expert in animal badassery, Sir David Attenborough himself, the smartest, deadliest, most tight-knit group of apex predators in all the oceans are dolphins. According to Sir David and the BBC, Orca, or more commonly known as killer whales are in fact dolphins! We will roam throughout all of the seven seas of our CryptoSphere hunting down and preying on everything we come across. No one will be safe from our merry wolfpack. We will feast on all of the weak ass doggy, pussy, hamster, froggy, and every other type of meme coin out there whether it be animal or vegetable for dinner and then shit them out before we have our proper English brekkie of sausages, eggs, black puddin', an' baked beans. Merrily stealing and stacking their sats for ourselves all the while! No weak arse memes or whales will stop us from achieving our moon mission. In fact, our merry wolfpack will travel to Beyond The Moon. We will give Elon and his Dodgey coin a good n' proper two finger English salute as we shoot past Mars. We will take our inspiration from Captain James Tiberius Kirk himself. Our mission will be to go where no meme has gone before! Right up... Urranus! Har Har, What!? Now, I must admit lads, that even for a bad to the bone meme Mofo like yours truly, the stress and pressure of planning our stacking sats to Beyond The Moon mission has started to take its toll on me. I have been having a rather disturbing reoccurring dream of late. For all of you amateur psych types out there, I think it must be me unconscious mind attempting to deal with a most dire and catastrophic situation which would prevent our merry band from accomplishing our goal. The circumstances are so serious it would without a doubt force us to abort our mission just before we reach our goal of stacking sats all the way up... Urranus. This is the way the dream plays out. We have just passed Mars, merrily stacking sats the entire time. By way of greeting, we have all collectively passed gas into the void of space as our way of bidding adieu to Elon and his Dodgey coin. All systems are nominal on the good ship FomouMofos. Suddenly, all hell starts to break loose. The Red alert siren begins to blare throughout the entire ship. The control panel is lit up the way Snoop Dogg used to get lit up before he supposedly gave up the sweet Mary Jane and permanently blocked her 420 area code. Adhering to regulations, I immediately contact mission control. "Ah, Houston we have a problem!" "Mofo, this is mission control, what's happening!? Has Raoul Pal taken an exponential tumble after slipping on a singular, irresponsibly long banana peel!? Is Michael Saylor telling anyone who will listen that Bitcoin was in fact created by God to save humanity from self-destruction!? Has Andrew Tate pumped and then dumped on his community again!?" Trying to keep the panic out of me voice I reply, "Ah, that's a negative Houston, I repeat that's a negative. I'm afraid our situation is much much more dire. It seems the unthinkable has happened." After taking a deep breath, I deliver the terrible news. "We seem to have run out of shit tickets with which to wipe our arses with!" "Mofo, this is Houston, you're breaking up. Please repeat Mofo. I say again, please repeat!" This time, having lost all semblance of calm. I blurt out, "Houston, this is Mofo, I repeat, I repeat, the lads and I are no longer able to wipe our arses! Please advise Houston! I say again, please advise!" It is at this point in the dream I wake up drenched in a cold sweat and breathe a big sigh of relief that it was all just a dream. For all our sakes let's hope it never comes to pass. Me apologies lads but I think I can be forgiven if this time all I can manage is a somewhat subdued, har har, what. As I've stated a lot goes into planning a to Beyond The Moon mission. One really important aspect is our sigil. For those of you who aren't sure. A sigil is just a posh way of saying emblem or symbol. Now me lads, ur Mofo has thought long and hard over this one. Our sigil has to represent who we are and what we stand for. So I think you'll all agree with me that it is quite important to get it right. It's definitely not going to be some weak arse cutesy picture of a doggy or a froggy or a pussy with an utterly stupid look on their face. No, that will not do at all for our merry band of degens. Me original idea for a kick-ass sigil consisted of a big, shiny, and highly polished Doc Martens boot about to deliver its business end right up the backside of a bent over, doe-eyed doggy meme that is looking over its shoulder. With the caption, "Please sir, may I have some more." Har har, what!? Well that was me original kick-ass idea anyway. But then I realized I don't know how to do any of that shite! I'm just a simple Cockney meme bloke from East London after all. So I thought, I'll have to PlanB my way to a solution by changing things up. So I thought I would just go with a KISS. Keep. It. Simple. Stupid. Stupid being right up me alley, I decided to go with a picture of where we want to go. Right up... Urranus. So that is what is going to be our sigil. Har Har, What!? Now I realize some of you punters out there must be thinking to yourselves, "How does a supposed simple meme bloke from East London know a posh, upper crust word such as sigil?" Well me lads, it's not because I went to some elitist public school full of pompous toffs let me tells ya. It's because I recently started watching Game of Thrones. In one of the first episodes, Jon Snow informs Lord Stark that the direwolf is the sigil of his house. To be quite honest with you, the first time I heard the word I actually thought Jon Snow said, "Lord Stark, the direwolf is the fo' shizzle of your house." It was only after I rewound it to listen to what he said again, that I realized I wasn't hearing things and what he actually said was sigil. Speaking of Jon Snow, I heard a story about how one day the actor Kit Harrington was driving to visit his parents somewhere in rural England and he must have been driving like he was being chased by a horde of white walkers or something cos the next thing he knew he heard sirens and saw flashing lights in his rearview mirror. I'm sure he had the same reaction as we all would under similar circumstances. You know, you start sweatin' a bit and you can feel ur heart rate and blood pressure skyrocket. The poor fellow probably hadn't felt the same level of panic since the time Lady Stark caught him knockin' knees with Sansa in the stables of Winterfell. So this copper walks up to the side of his car and without so much as a, "How do you do." Begins to launch a series of questions at poor Kit. You know, the usual, "Do you realise how fast you were going!? Why the devil were you driving so fast!?" And so on and so forth. So after a few minutes of this harsh line of questioning, this copper says, "Now I just want to know one thing from you?" At this point in the one-sided conversation, poor Kit must have been thinking to himself, "Oh boy, my carefree days of pissing off the top of the wall at Castle Black are over." So this copper without changing his expression whatsoever asks, "Does Jon Snow live for the entirety of this upcoming season?" Completely gobsmacked, all Kit can manage to do, is to nod his head in the affirmative. At which point, the copper replies, "Very well Lord Commander, on your way then." He then just turned and walked away! Well lads, I really only have one thing to say to about it all. "In this Game Of Memes, you either win or you are doomed to become nothing more than an irrelevant historical footnote in our Cryptoverse like Elizabeth 'Pocahontas' Warren and her black latex clad gimp on a chain Gary 'Mr Burns' Gensler." Har Har, What!?" Now, I don't know about you lot, but ur mate Mofo ain't no gimp. Although, if I'm being quite honest with myself, I am kinda partial to the look and feel of hot black latex. But still, I ain't no gimp! So, if you've made it this far, I feel pretty confident you must be a wee bit of a dejen. But alas, I do realise this Game Of Memes is not for everyone. So if you decide our merry band of degens is not for you, absolutely no hard feelings. By way of bidding you a fond farewell, I extend to you a good n' proper two finger salute and cordially invite you to piss off! Har Har, What!? But if you do consider yourself to be not just a wee bit of a degen but a pure and utter degen just like ur mate Mofo, then I cordially invite you to sell some of your Sol and join our merry band on our to Beyond The Moon mission. All the way up... Urranus. Now lads I'm not asking you to sell all of your Sol to me. Because if I did, it would be, how shall I put it... a touch Devilish of me! Bah hahahaha Bah hahahaha, What!? P.S: Oi! I just remembered, do you lads think Rafa maybe interested in joining our merry band? The reason I ask is, he already seems to be very experienced in exploring his very own Urranus between every serve. He'll be an ASSet I tells ya! Can someone do me a favour, and perhaps FaceTime him for me? Thanks mate, I shan't forget your contribution. Legal Disclaimer: This is not financial advice and I am not a financial advisor. Although one time I did follow this really foxy Asian meme chick into the library of the London School Of Economics to creep on her for a while. Well lads, my creepage action must have creeped her out quite a bit. Cos she stomped right over to me and this is what she said. "You do know what they say don't you? Bulls make money, bears make money, and pigs get slaughtered!" Caught completely with me trousers down around me ankles, the only thing I could think to say was, "Well, I do love the smell of bacon in the morning. It smells like, victory!" Followed by two very slow and drawn out, "Oink, oinks." Well, my good fellows she must have liked what she heard cos to me utter surprise she gave me her digits! I guess she was interested in a wee bit of Cockney roughage. Who be ur daddy? Mofo be ur daddy! Har Har, What!? P.P.S: Now lads, I know ol' Mofo has been prattlin' on for way too long. So please accept my most insincere apologies. But I have been pondering a certain question for a very long time now. It has absolutely nothing to do with stacking sats or to Beyond The Moon missions. It is more philosophical and existential in nature. It's the type of question which delves right into the meaning of me meme existence. For I am a meme but I don't truly understand; What is a meme anyway? Why am I here? What is the meaning of it all? Very heady stuff I know. So this is me question. Are you ready? Good! Right then, here goes. If a meme let's one rip into the void of space, will Elon hear it? Har har, What!? Want to know more? Follow the orange brick road to our FomouMofos Twitter/X and Telegram.