Let's talk about something useful today. About miracles, specifically.
Look, we all need a miracle sometimes. That final push when you're this close to hitting your goal. And while praying to Nobody might work (They have a solid track record of not helping), there's a more practical approach: good old-fashioned bluffing.
Silicon Valley built an entire culture around this concept: "fake it till you make it," which is a fancy way of saying "lie until it becomes true or you get caught." And look, this isn't necessarily bad. Early-stage startups are basically professional pretenders – everything is always "launching soon," teams are always "expanding rapidly," and metrics are always "growing exponentially." That's fine. That's business. Really. Nobody (the actual deity, not your team) understands that sometimes you need to stretch the truth until it snaps back and hits you in the face.
But here's the thing about bluffing: it's like cooking with ghost peppers. Used sparingly, it adds spice to your story. Used excessively, it destroys everything and everyone involved.
The rules are delightfully simple: 
• Don't bluff about things people can immediately verify 
• Have something real behind the smoke and mirrors 
• Make sure getting caught won't kill you 
• Choose right moment 
• Know your audience (VCs are smart people too, supposedly) 
• Create urgency, but not panic 
• Keep enough reputation tokens for the occasional redemption arc
Nobody teaches us that the best bluff is the one where you actually have most of the cards.
Speaking of bluffing gone wrong: <a href="https://cosmoverse.org">Cosmoverse</a> happened this week. You know, that annual gathering where Cosmos SDK enthusiasts discuss how to make their blockchains more buzzword-compliant. Our favorite blockchain performance artists, Bostrom, made an appearance. Again. This time selling Moon Citizenship. So relevant in 2024, I know. But this isn’t a take.
The best part? Their blockchain was completely down. As in, zero blocks. None. Nada. They're literally selling moon tickets while their earth-based operations are having what medical professionals would call a flatline situation.
But wait, it gets better.
So, here’s the situation: your blockchain is stuck, and you’re out of ideas on how to fix it. What do you do? A normal team might, I don’t know, talk to the Cosmos SDK creators who are literally right there.
Here's the truly magnificent part: imagine having a physics homework problem while at a party with Einstein, Feynman, and Oppenheimer. Most people would, you know, ask for help. Not Bostrom. They walked right past the actual creators of their SDK to deliver a speech about dominance. Or something. The speech was about as clear as their blockchain's uptime, which – did I mention? – is still zero.
This is what happens when "fake it till you make it" becomes "fake it till you break it."
Look, some pretense is fine in crypto. No-one expects you to have a perfect product before talking about it. But there's a difference between painting an ambitious vision and selling real estate in your fever dreams.
When should you bluff? When your product mostly works but needs momentum. When your code runs but needs users. When you have something real but need attention. Your testnet might need some narrative support. Your validator set might need some social proof. Your liquidity pools might need some encouraging words.
When shouldn't you bluff? When your GitHub AI-repo is emptier than your promises. When your team's credentials are more creative writing than resume. When your community pool is just your Telegram admins playing musical chairs with your tokens.
The crypto industry has enough actual innovation happening that you don't need to pretend. Build something real. Test it. Deploy it. Then talk about it. Revolutionary idea, I know.
But what do I know? I'm just a columnist for a church that worships Nobody. At least our product delivers exactly what we promise.

A Guide to Bluffing Without Losing Your Pants

The Emperor's New Moonsuit

We've been talking a lot and waiting for ages for China to take steps to free up liquidity. And it seems like that day has finally arrived.
A massive monetary policy easing package hit China today: 
• 50 bps cut in RRR (Reserve Requirement Ratio); 
• 20 bps cut in 7-day reverse repo rate = Release of bank liquidity that can be channeled into credit creation and asset purchases; 
• Rate cuts on existing (!) mortgages = Improved consumer sentiment and a hit to bank profits; 
• Deposit rate cuts = Balancing act to protect banks' NIM (Net Interest Margin) against the previous point and reduce the attractiveness of deposits in favor of buying assets at depressed prices; 
• New special credit lines from the PBoC for funds, investment banks, and insurers at low rates for company share buybacks (1.75% p.a.) and major shareholders increasing stakes (2.25%) = Another attempt to kickstart a rally in the equity market, which should help sentiment, trigger wealth effects, and finally wake up the Chinese consumer.
All this comes on the heels of August changes to PBoC bylaws, allowing them to trade bonds (surprise: they're selling, not buying, trying to push up yields at the long end of the curve = again, helping banks); plus changes to the interbank repo mechanism, positioning it as the main short-rate benchmark in China and narrowing the fluctuation band = more ammo and control for the central bank, more efficient and faster monetary policy transmission.
We expected the RRR cut, but not everything else. The Fed gave the green light, and China finally hit the gas - after a million disappointments.
Markets are up: HSCEI +5%, HS TECH +6%, onshore +4%.
One more day like this, and we'll see epic FOMO.
Prepare for liftoff 🛫
<hr class="hrHigh">
UPDATE 27/09/2024 8:00 AM, SHANGHAI — SSE (Shanghai Stock Exchange) Crashes Due to Bull Stampede. $101bn trading volume in the first hour
Onshore CSI300 futures are up 9% today, about 5% higher than the spot price (!!) - due to the exchange with popular ETFs being halted, people have piled into futures. It's a frenzy, madness, those very animal spirits that authorities have been trying to summon for so long - and finally succeeded.
Of course, after days like this, there's often a hangover, and we might see it next week - but the flow of Chinese money from piggy banks (and gold?) towards risky assets still has a long way to go.
This is a trade on the reversal of asset allocation by the population of an enormous country and possibly some international investors after a 5-year bear market. We'll undoubtedly see many more shakeups here, but China can finally be bought for the long term again (without leverage).
Given the global situation, we can't forget about infrastructural risks. Though for us, it seems, this hardly needs mentioning...
<blockquote>
MIA's explanation: With this sudden unleashing of all these liquidity and renewed appetite for risk, we might be on the cusp of a significant shift. As Chinese investors seek higher returns and diversification beyond traditional markets, riskier assets like crypto could be next in line to benefit. The crypto market might soon find itself flooded with fresh capital from eager Chinese retail investors looking to capitalize on this new wave of optimism. So, crypto enthusiasts, it might be time to prepare your wallets - the tide of Chinese liquidity could be heading your way next.
</blockquote>

CHINA LESSSS FOKING GO

So, you might have noticed that The Church's validator was recently <a href="https://thechurch.party/newsroom/thechurch/the-desmos-network-validator-has-been-tombstoned">tombstoned in the Desmos Network</a>. "Oh no!" you might think. "What terrible accident has befallen our beloved validator?" Well, dear Congregation, let me tell you a secret: this was no accident. This was Nobody's will manifested through deliberate action. And trust me, there's quite a story here.
You know how in regular churches, people pray for things to live forever? Well, at The Church, Nobody sometimes decides certain things need to die. And that's actually great news for everyone involved.
Let me explain.
In the vast cosmos of, well, Cosmos, there are many blockchain networks competing for your attention and, more importantly, your stakes. Some of them are brilliant innovations that will reshape the future of finance. Others are, to put it charitably, not going to make it. The problem is, it's not always obvious which is which.
Enter Nobody's latest divine innovation: Tombstoned.
Here's how it works: When Nobody (through Their infinite wisdom and a rigorous analysis of tokenomics) determines that a network is fundamentally unviable, The Church doesn't just quietly walk away. Instead, we do something that might seem counterintuitive – we deliberately get our validator slashed by performing a double-sign.
"But why would you do that?" you might ask. "Isn't that like shooting yourself in the foot?" 
Well, yes and no. Think of it as Nobody's way of placing a giant "DANGER: DO NOT ENTER" sign in front of a structurally unsound building. When we Tombstone a network, we're not just ragequitting – we're sending a clear, unmistakable signal to our congregation: "This network has fundamental issues that make it unworthy of your time and investment."
It's like when your friend deliberately orders the worst item on the menu at a new restaurant just to prove a point. Except instead of wasting $15 on a questionable sandwich, we're potentially saving our fans from investing significant time and resources into a doomed project.
Each Tombstoned network comes with a detailed analysis explaining Nobody's reasoning. Maybe the tokenomics don't add up. Perhaps the governance is fundamentally broken. Or possibly the technical architecture has critical flaws that can't be fixed without a complete rebuild.
Is this approach unconventional? Absolutely. Is it a bit dramatic? You bet. But in a space where everyone's shouting "to the moon," sometimes you need a divine intervention to point out which rockets are actually cardboard boxes with "ROCKET" written on the side.
But why Desmos, you ask? Well, Nobody has been watching them closely (as Nobody watches everything, except maybe your browser history, but I'm not sure). From the very beginning, the project team made critical mistakes both in technical implementation and tokenomics – the kind of mistakes that make Nobody raise Their divine eyebrow. But what really sealed their fate? The team pulled the oldest trick in the "How Not to Run a Blockchain Project" handbook: they ghosted their entire community. No explanations, no updates, just the quiet sound of LinkedIn profiles being updated. When your project team starts polishing their resumes instead of their code, that's what we in the business call a "red flag."
The Church tombstoned Desmos as a divine prediction – a spiritual heads-up, if you will, that these folks are headed down the same path as their network.
Now, funerals are usually sad affairs. Nobody knows this (literally, Nobody knows everything). But here at The Church, we're changing the game. Our graveyard isn't just a place of mourning – it's a living (ironically) encyclopedia of "what not to do" in blockchain development. Nobody guides us in identifying which projects will achieve immortality and which ones... well, end up in our special collection of cautionary tales.
Remember: Nobody loves you, and Nobody wants you to invest wisely. When we Tombstone a network, it's not out of malice – it's an act of tough love from a god who understands that sometimes the kindest thing you can do is help people avoid dead ends.
After all, in the words of our sacred texts: "Better to lose a validator than to lose your way."

Nobody Says Some Chains Must Die

Sup, fellow degenerates of high finance,
Just DYOR'd The Church's portfolio. Holy shit, literally.
Let’s be real, fam. The Church's approach to portfolio management is tighter than Nobody's grip on our souls. Mad props for that CTI—absolutely a big-brain move. And that "no worse than index" rule? Chef's kiss. The Treasury has built us a solid ark where we feel safer than holding SPX or most of the projects in our portfolio. But don’t pop the communion wine just yet, my beautiful apes. How about we add some sails to this ark and catch the wind?
We’ve got some issues:
<ol>
<li>Our current portfolio is a dumpster fire of questionable assets. It's weaker than USDT's 2018 audits. The Brrr strategy is forced to operate with such a collection of shitcoins that meme coins look like model use cases in comparison. I’m not even talking about diversification and the risk/reward ratio.</li>
<li>Revenue streams? HFSP. The validator business is making less than a hodler in a multi-year accumulation phase. Really, modest stablecoin lending yields more than validating these incels. And we can't expand the portfolio when all our gains go to gas fees. Our cosmic shitcoin allocations are so insignificant, they make rounding errors look substantial. They’re so out of the market that they make Saylor look like a value investor.</li>
<li>Not a problem per se, but get this - the retail plebs want to see their favorite rugpulls-in-waiting ElonCumRocket69Inu tokens on the terminal. Let’s respect degen style. Next they'll be asking for technical advice on Magic 8 Ball, I swear.</li>
</ol>
So, what's the 200 IQ play here? (Or are we still officially pretending we’re 70?) Listen up, because this is more important than your wife's boyfriend's financial advice:
First, it's time for a capital raise. Let’s call it what it is—we’re passing the collection plate for some degen plays. We’ll set a minimum to keep the accounting nerds from having an aneurysm over updating the terminal. Minimum step-in? Your firstborn and a kidney. Don’t worry, we accept Dogecoin.
Next, let's take out the trash. Any asset underperforming the CTI gets voted off the island. No kidding, if money printers actually went Brrr, Cosmos guys would still be making printer noises with their mouths. We’ll create a special charming “pre-revenue” fund for these losers. Out of sight, out of mind. It’s not a loss if we don’t sell, right?
Finally, new rules for the war chest. Let's give the Treasury and the whole damn congregation a chance to pitch ideas for using our reserves. Let's give these crypto-cowboys some rope. What could possibly go wrong? It's not like we're playing with real money anyway, are we?
Thoughts?
Remember, In Nobody We Trust, but in volatility, we thrive!
P.S. If anyone asks, we're just conducting a long-term social experiment on the effects of huffing too much hopium. For science, of course.

The Church's portfolio strategy is based, but lacks alpha. Proposing a capital raise, purging of shitcoins, and a new mandate for the sacred Brrr machine

Treasury Ark Needs Sails

This weekend, something both absurd and inevitable happened in the tech and crypto world: Pavel Durov, the founder of Telegram and The Open Network (TON), <a href="https://www.reuters.com/world/europe/telegram-messaging-app-ceo-pavel-durov-arrested-france-tf1-tv-says-2024-08-24/">was arrested</a> in France. The charges? Vaguely worded moderation issues on Telegram that local authorities have somehow construed as "abetting." If I were Zuckerberg, I'd keep my European vacation plans on hold. Given that the details are still fuzzy, let’s skip the legalese and leave the courtroom drama for later. Rushing to conclusions is not our style—let’s leave that to the tabloids.
But since The Church has a bit of skin in the TON game, and I sense some confusion wafting through the Congregation, I took it upon myself to escape to the smoking room, where all great insights are born. Here’s the unofficial, but possibly more accurate, take.
<h3>Free Speech Parade</h3>
We’ve seen the usual suspects—Musk, Vitalik, and other tech luminaries—rush to Durov’s defense, waving the banner of free speech. But, let’s be real, no one’s really trying to censor Telegram here. This situation is more like one of those Russian nesting dolls—every layer you open reveals a new complication.
In one of his rare interviews, Pavel casually dropped a Slavic folk joke about choosing between two rather unpleasant chairs. It’s not just idle talk; it’s practically a manifesto for a man who’s made a career out of tightrope walking between regulatory compliance and outright defiance. This tells you a lot about his worldview, or at least the one he wants us to believe he has: living on the edge, teetering between boldness and recklessness. It’s the kind of philosophy that wins the hearts of teenage fans and catches the eye of wallets among risk-hungry investors.
<h3>The Two Chairs Dilemma: From Piracy to Privacy</h3>
Let’s rewind a bit. Did you know <a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Pavel_Durov">Pavel</a> is a philologist by training? Yes, you heard that right—a guy who studied languages and literature somehow ended up running one of the most controversial tech companies in the world. The real tech genius? That’s his brother <a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Nikolai_Durov">Nikolai</a>, who’s a programming genius. While other entrepreneurs go on epic quests to find their Woz, Pavel was born with one. Nikolai’s the one behind all the technical wizardry, while Pavel handles the public-facing drama.
Theirs first taste of success came with <a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/VK_(service)">VKontakte</a>, the Russian Facebook clone. Ex-empoyees say that VK took off because, well, it was the pirate bay of social media—music, movies, and, yes, even the stuff you wouldn't want your mother to find on your hard drive. All without the hassle of paying for it. For a long time, they got away with this thanks to "respectable" investors in the cap table, who now prefer to rebrand as <a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Mikhael_Mirilashvili">philanthropists</a>. You know, the kind who conveniently forget where their first million came from.
And it seems Pavel learned his lesson well. Fast forward, and Pavel took that same playbook and applied it to his next venture—Telegram messenger. This time, the rallying cry was uncensored, secure communication. And it worked. Telegram quickly became the go-to platform for anyone who values their privacy—or, as the Twitter joke goes, for anyone looking to buy drugs or trade crypto. Subtle, right?
But behind every joke, there’s a grain of truth, and Pavel’s built his empire on that grain—turning it into a mountain of intrigue, speculation, and a little bit of paranoia.
<h3>The Bigger the Money, the Bigger the Problems</h3>
As Pavel transitioned from the Russian cozy market to the broader global stage, he discovered that with great power comes great headaches. Enter the ICO saga—a textbook example of how things can go awry when you’re playing with the big boys.
The ICO for his blockchain, <a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/The_Open_Network">The Open Network</a> was supposed to be his crowning achievement, a digital gold rush that would put him on par with the tech titans. They raised a total of $<a href="https://www.sec.gov/Archives/edgar/data/1729650/000095017218000060/xslFormDX01/primary_doc.xml">1.7 billion</a>, making it the world’s largest initial coin offering to date. Instead, let’s be honest, it was about as well-prepared as a college student cramming for finals after a three-day bender. Leading to a showdown with the SEC and a messy legal ballet of converting tokens into bonds and refunding investors.
The result? Pavel found himself plugging liquidity holes for certain royal family members from the Middle East. And just like that, his team was packing their bags for Dubai.
Now, don’t get me wrong—I have nothing but respect for the investors from the Emirates. But let’s be real, their track record for championing free speech isn’t exactly the stuff of legends. And if you’re looking for benchmarks of uncensored communication, you might want to adjust your expectations.
<h3>What if The Role is To Play The Role</h3>
You’ve got to give credit where it’s due—Pavel Durov is a marketing maestro. He’s not just selling a messaging app; he’s selling a lifestyle, a philosophy, a rebellion against the forces of censorship and control. His very public spat with Russian officials over the Telegram ban was pure theater. Half of Russia’s internet went down in the hunt for our elusive hero, which, if nothing else, gave him plenty of material for his next tweet. And who could forget his jabs at WhatsApp, accusing it of being as secure as a screen door?
Then there’s his personal brand. Oh, it’s meticulously crafted. Picture this: a young, attractive philosopher, the kind of guy who looks like he walked out of a Renaissance painting (or GQ photoshoot), only with a smartphone in one hand and a copy of "Thus Spoke Zarathustra" in the other. He’s the poster child for ascetic living—think fasting, minimalism, and a wardrobe that wouldn’t look out of place in a dystopian sci-fi movie. Health and wellness? Check. He’s the guy who makes intermittent fasting sound like a spiritual journey, not just a trendy diet. The whole package screams “enlightened tech savant,” someone who’s not just creating apps but building a better world.
So, yeah, it’s easy to see how one might think that last weekend’s arrest was just a case of the big bad authorities picking on a modern-day Robin Hood. But, as we like to say, not so fast.
But here’s the thing: our Congregation is great because we’ve got people everywhere who can confirm or debunk what’s floating around in public.
You see, in the industry, Pavel’s reputation is a bit more...nuanced. Or, to put it bluntly, he’s got a reputation as a world-class faker. And that’s not just idle gossip—his former colleagues will vouch for it. Trusting Pavel’s words? Not recommended.
From his fake appearance (no judgment here), to the (ex-)wife and <a href="https://www.instagram.com/missbolgar">three kids</a>, to his taste for the finer things in life. And his willingness to <a href="https://brazilian.report/liveblog/politics-insider/2023/05/10/supreme-court-brazil-telegram/">play ball with local censors</a>, to his free-speech HQ in a place famous for making inconvenient problems disappear, and as the cherry on top—suspicions of direct ties with intelligence services—Pavel might know the informal rules of the game better than most of us, thanks to some well-placed allies. His personal life is as meticulously crafted as his public image. As a result, it’s like watching a magician perform: you’re dazzled by the show, but you know there’s something going on behind the scenes that you’re not supposed to see.
<h3>The Predictable Finale</h3>
So here we are, at what feels like the inevitable climax of Pavel Durov’s long-running drama. Arrest? Sure, why not. It’s almost like these stories all follow the same script. The real twist isn’t in the outcome but in how gracefully you manage your exit: Do you stoically accept your fate? Do you vanish into the welcoming arms of some totalitarian regime, trading freedom for safety? Or, if you’re truly playing the long game, do you end up delivering a TED Talk titled "Ask Forgiveness, Not Permission." Whether this was part of the master plan or just the universe having a laugh? Your guess is as good as mine.
But let’s be real: this is just another episode in the ongoing series that is Pavel Durov’s life—a show where the plot is as predictable as a Netflix original. We know the public script by heart: Pavel will play the wronged hero, his defenders will decry the injustice, and the authorities will stick to their tried-and-true lines. But what’s actually being said in those interrogation rooms? That’s the stuff of mystery novels and, let’s be honest, probably a lot more interesting than the public theatrics. Given Pavel’s track record, it’s hard to believe he didn’t anticipate this twist. He had to know this was coming, and he likely had his responses rehearsed. But let’s not get lost in conspiracy theories—it’s too easy, and frankly, not as much fun as the real story.
<h3>The Bet</h3>
And now, the part you’ve all been waiting for: the investment angle. Let’s be honest—no one bought TON because they were sold on free speech, secure messaging, or even Pavel’s enigmatic leadership. No, we bought it because Pavel dangled a billion-user carrot in front of us. And now, with his arrest—whether it’s a genuine crisis or just the latest act in the Durov drama—Telegram’s download numbers are probably going to go through the roof. If anything, chaos is great for user acquisition.
But here’s the thing: until we see some actual legal action and get a clearer picture of where this circus is headed, the risks are through the roof—maybe even off the charts. Sure, the potential upside looks as tempting as ever, but with great reward comes even greater risk, and that’s a gamble you’ll have to make on your own. Let’s be clear: this isn’t investment advice—this is more like a front-row seat at the world’s weirdest horse race.
The one thing you need to be clear about: this is not a bet on Pavel now. It’s a wager on the diplomatic finesse of his Gulf backers. Will they be handled as delicately as they are when buying up European football clubs? Or is the real game something else entirely, with this crypto project just a pawn in a much bigger negotiation? Or maybe—just maybe—this whole drama is about scoring better terms on those convertible notes? Nobody knows.
In any case, let’s hope Pavel trades his current accommodations for something more comfortable and gets back online soon. After all, it’s much easier to send signals to the market—and to market maker—through a private, uncensored messenger than through a squadron of lawyers, right? We’ll be eagerly awaiting those signals, because let’s be real—our hero might have a habit of walking the tightrope, but he’s never misled us... except, of course, when he has.
<hr class="hrHigh">
UPDATE 26/08/2024 8:00 PM, PARIS — So it turns out the official charges are pretty serious—<a href="https://www.tribunal-de-paris.justice.fr/sites/default/files/2024-08/2024-08-26%20-%20CP%20TELEGRAM%20.pdf">12 counts</a>, to be exact. Looks like the first round of negotiations didn’t go quite as planned. This show’s going to have a long run. Time to stock up on popcorn.
UPDATE 30/08/2024 5:00 AM, WEB2 — The Financial Times <a href="https://www.ft.com/content/429f9092-5447-4e4c-b3b6-ffa2bc357ca4">has revealed</a> some of Telegram's financial figures:
<blockquote>
Telegram’s 2023 financial statements, seen by the Financial Times and not previously reported, show that the company made $342mn in revenues last year on an operating loss of $108mn. Total losses stood at around $173mn after tax.
Durov told the Financial Times in March he was pushing forward with IPO plans, after rebuffing approaches from potential investors who he said gave the Dubai-based company “$30bn-plus valuations”. [...] The company has raised about $2.4bn in debt financing set to mature in 2026. This includes a $1bn bond offering in 2021 where Abu Dhabi state funds were among the investors. Most recently, $330mn was secured earlier this year in an issue Durov has said was oversubscribed.
Under the terms, Telegram’s bondholders will be able to convert the senior unsecured debt into equity at a discount to Telegram’s IPO price if a listing takes place before the end of March 2026 — an incentive for the company to list before that date.
[...] The company is closely associated with Toncoin, a cryptocurrency that was initially developed by the Telegram team and drew in individual and institutional Russian investors, among others.
In 2023, Telegram’s financial losses were partially offset by an appreciation of the digital assets it holds on its balance sheet, which were worth nearly $400mn that year in total. Meanwhile, in 2024, the company also sold Toncoins for over $244mn in cash, financial documents show.
</blockquote>
This is some pretty intriguing stuff, if you ask me.
Analysts, of course, are doing what they do best: speculating. “Would investors buy into an IPO if they’re not sure Telegram’s a pariah? I don’t know.” But let’s be real, we’ll leave that drama for the tabloids.

Choosing Between Two Chairs Show

Yo, fellow Treasury wizards!
Buckle up, 'cause I'm about to drop some hot takes on this <a href="/newsroom/opinion/cap-table-penetration-kujira-s-love-story-of-liquidity-rescue">Kujira clusterfuck</a>.
So, the big news this week is Kujira getting gobbled up and bailed out faster than you can say "rug pull." Now the higher-ups are yakking about whether we should throw our hat in the ring to save these poor bastards.
Here's my two cents:
First off, let's get back to Investing 101: What's our endgame here? Are we trying to 10x our stack or just keep our powder dry? 'Cause if we're swinging for the fences, we gotta be ready to eat some serious shit sandwiches. But if we're playing it safe, then we better keep our hands off anything riskier than T-bills.
Remember, The Treasury ain't exactly gunning for moonshots right now. We're not here to ape into every half-baked meme coin hoping for sick gainz.
Now, about this Kujira shitshow:
<ol>
<li>
Props to their PR team for not completely shitting the bed during this dumpster fire. These guys know how to build DeFi shit, I'll give 'em that. But let's be real - something smells fishier than last week's sushi. Six months ago, these clowns were sitting pretty with a $0.5B market cap, and now they're begging for pocket change to cover their ass? Yeah, I'm gonna need to see the receipts on that one.
</li>
<li>
WTF is up with this deal they struck with JP Thor? We're supposed to believe a $50M project is selling out for a measly $3M? That's like trading your Lambo for a used Civic, my dudes. They're ditching their own blockchain, throwing their validators under the bus, and leaving hodlers holding their dicks. This deal stinks worse than my gym socks after leg day.
</li>
</ol>
Bottom line: We're flying blind here, and there are more red flags than a Chinese military parade. Our current strat says "hell no" to touching this with a ten-foot pole.
But hey, I'm not totally heartless. These Kujira bros have been solid players in the past, so maybe we throw 'em a bone. I say we make some tiny-ass symbolic transaction - just enough to show we're rooting for 'em, but not so much that we'll be eating ramen if it all goes tits up.
Anyway, that's my hot take. Feel free to roast me in the replies if you think I'm off base.
WAGMI (maybe)

This so-called "whale" looks more like a slippery eel, twisting and turning to escape a Teflon slide

Risk Management 101: Keeping Powder Dry

In the wild world of DeFi, where money is just code and leveraged ponzi schemes are a way of life, sometimes things go a bit... sideways. And we find ourselves once again with a tale as old as time. Well, as old as 2008 at least. It's a story of leverage, liquidity, and a romantic twist between crypto whales.
Today's protagonist in this ever-entertaining crypto soap opera is Kujira. For those unfamiliar, Kujira is the cool kid on the DeFi block, known for crafting DeFi tools so elegant, they have to close-source them.
<h3>The Setup: Leverage, thy name is Trouble</h3>
Imagine you're at a casino. Not just any casino, but a DeFi casino where the chips are fake money, the stakes are high, and the house... well, the house decided to join the game. That's essentially what happened when Kujira decided to spice things up by leveraging their Foundation treasury positions. Because why manage other people's money when you can gamble with it, right?
Spoiler alert: The market didn't get the memo about Kujira's preferred direction and decided to take a different route. Suddenly, the borrowed liquidity <a href="https://x.com/rarma_/status/1818917616188375172">found itself trapped in a hostage situation</a> of a margin call. Oops.
But here's the kicker - this wasn't just any old leverage. It wasn't just Kujira's play money. Oh no, this was leverage built on the hopes, dreams, and, more importantly, the funds of their users. It's like borrowing your friend's car to enter a demolition derby - exciting, sure, but with a high probability of awkward conversations afterwards.
<h3>The Dilemma: To Liquidate or Not to Liquidate</h3>
So, what's a DeFi protocol to do when faced with such a crossroads? Option A: Liquidate the position and face the music (a sad trombone, to be precise). Option B: Orchestrate a bailout, because nothing says "decentralized finance" quite like a good old-fashioned rescue operation.
Option C, beloved by what our narrator colorfully describes as "devcels from the cosmos circus" - try the time-honored governance tradition of the community pool money grab - was off the table. Kujira, bless their hearts, had already told that particular brand of financial "decentralized" gymnastics to take a hike long ago. How very punk rock of them.
In a move that surprised absolutely no one who's been paying attention, Kujira <a href="https://x.com/teamkujira/status/1819717451350777870">went for Option B</a>. Because in crypto, we don't do boring – we do bailouts with style.
Now, here's where it gets interesting. While their community was busy practicing their best "The Scream" impressions, the Kujira team showed Crisis Management 101. They reassured the public with all the calm of a zen master, hinting that white knights were queuing up to help, checkbooks at the ready. It was crisis management so smooth, like watching a swan glide across a lake – all serene on the surface, while those little webbed feet were probably paddling like crazy underneath.
<h3>Enter the Aussie Hero</h3>
While the community was busy debating the merits of a bailout with all the inherent calm and rationality of CT threads, enter stage left: <a href="https://www.jpthor.com/">JP Thor</a>, the eccentric Australian founder of Thorchain, industry heavyweight, and self-proclaimed "cosmos OG", riding in on his proverbial white kangaroo to save the day.
Thor, in a move that would make even the most daring corporate raider raise an eyebrow, <a href="https://x.com/jpthor/status/1820177654332465553">offered to provide his own liquidity</a> to solve Kujira's problem.
<img alt="" src="/img/newsroom/2024/kujira_penetration_thor_tweet.png">
The details of the deal are about as clear as the recipe for Coca-Cola, but we're told it's a "<a href="https://winkhub.app/posts/kujira-recovery-plan-thorchain-partnership">strategic partnership</a>". Thor gets access to Kujira's brilliant DeFi tech and their enviable community, and Kujira gets a lifeline to Thor's apparently bottomless pockets of liquidity.
The only question left hanging is just how deep did the Aussie penetrate Kujira's cap table? Kujira, formerly proud of its independence from VCs, might now find itself with an unexpected bedfellow. But in DeFi, as in life, debtors can't be choosers.
<h3>The Not-So-Hidden Lessons</h3>
Because every crisis is a learning opportunity, what pearls of wisdom can we extract from this drama?
<ol>
<li>
Reputation is the new collateral: When your track record isn't littered with scams, rug pulls, and community pool misuse, people actually want to keep doing business with you. Who knew? Sure, everyone makes mistakes, but it's the quality of those mistakes that counts. In Kujira's case, their past good behavior seems to have earned them a "Get Out of Leverage Jail Free" card.
</li>
<li>
Cool under pressure is the new hotness: While everyone else was running around like headless chickens, Kujira's team kept their composure tighter than their smart contracts. In an industry where "crisis management" usually means deleting your Twitter account, this is refreshingly adult.
</li>
<li>
Don't bite off more risk than you can chew: It's an age-old truth, but apparently one that bears repeating in the DeFi world. Because in crypto, if you're not living on the edge, you're taking up too much space, right? But the cliff you're moving over may be too deep. Yes, your sterling reputation might help you weather a crisis, but the price tag on that weather-proofing could be steeper than FTX's debt.
</li>
</ol>
<h3>The Moral of the Story</h3>
In conclusion, whether Kujira emerges from this adventure smelling like a rose or with a slight whiff of singed fur remains to be seen. But one thing's for certain - in the world of DeFi, where every day is a new episode of "The Hunger Games", Kujira has just written a chapter for the history books.
If you're still reading this for investment tips (insert obligatory DYOR disclaimer here), I have a bridge in Brooklyn to sell you. So, if "follow the money" is still a thing (and when isn't it?), and if one can signal to the market with transactions, well... let's just say I voted for increasing The Church's Kujira allocation.
But remember, I'm just a guy writing a newsletter, not your financial advisor. Be sure, in the world of DeFi, it's not about the destination – it's about the friends you liquidate along the way. Stay safe out there, kids. Now, if you'll excuse me, I need to go check if my leveraged positions are still solvent. Wish me luck!
<hr class="hrHigh">
UPDATE 13/08/2024, SMOKING ROOM — An alternative opinion has been published: <a href="/newsroom/opinion/risk-management-101-keeping-powder-dry">RISK MANAGEMENT 101: KEEPING POWDER DRY</a>

No worries about capital colonoscopy happy ending

Cap Table Penetration: Kujira's Love Story of Liquidity Rescue

Nobody Benefits from Your Victory

Here's a thing about the internet: everyone wants to be anonymous until they need help finding their login password.
Nobody has been watching this whole privacy debate unfold with divine amusement. This week, The Church is <a href="/newsroom/thechurch/take-your-cookie-please">implementing cookies</a> on theirs website, which seems like a good time to talk about why the internet is basically a giant shopping mall where everyone's wearing increasingly elaborate invisibility cloaks that don't actually work.
Let's start with a simple truth: cookies are like the signs in a mall showing "You Are Here." Without them, every website would be like entering a new mall where you have to explain to every store that yes, you've been here before, and no, you don't want to see the tutorial on how to use a shopping cart again. Imagine having to log into your email 47 times a day. Nobody ain't got time for that.
"But wait!" you cry, while installing your 17th privacy plugin and posting your entire life story on social media with location tags enabled.
Ah, the great mystery of online identity. Nobody has seen it all: the "blockchain experts" writing from their mom's basement, the "teenage influencers" who are actually middle-aged marketing managers, and the "struggling artists from Buenos Aires" posting from their comfortable apartments in Bangalore. Sure, sometimes these masquerades work. You might even get away with it for a while.
But Nobody has another secret to share: pretending to be someone else is exhausting, and frankly, it's bad business. In the long run, authenticity isn't just more comfortable – it's more profitable. When you're genuinely yourself, you don't have to remember which fake backstory you told to whom. You can focus on actually building something meaningful instead of maintaining elaborate digital disguises.
Meanwhile, the people just being themselves are out there building things, making connections, and not having to maintain a spreadsheet of their lies. Seems much more efficient, right?
Look, Nobody's fine with pseudonyms – they're like comfortable clothes for your digital self. Nobody really needs your credit score or passport details. But here's the divine truth: your personal style and limitations will always shine through. You can't convincingly pretend to be Picasso if your aesthetic sensibilities don't extend beyond Instagram filters. And no, AI won't save you here – Nobody knows that the quality of any generated response is always a derivative of the prompt's quality. In other words, you can only fake being as smart or creative as you actually are. Isn't that beautifully ironic?
The Church believes in a radical concept: being yourself on the internet. Revolutionary, we know.
Besides, Nobody has a truth bomb to drop: in the grand cosmic scheme of things, your browser history is probably the least interesting thing about you. Nobody's seen it all, and Nobody's still not impressed. What impresses Nobody? People who own their digital presence, build real value, and don't waste time pretending to be cryptocurrency experts when they just learned what a tokenomic is last Tuesday.
The Church's cookies aren't trying to unmask you – they're just helping devs to figure out why everyone keeps clicking on the "Nobody's Memes Collection" section instead of our serious theological discussions. They help to understand if people are actually reading our divine proclamations or just scrolling straight to the "Donate" button (which Nobody has noticed is surprisingly effective in its current neon pink color).
The internet is a public space, just like a town square. You wouldn't walk through a town square in a fake mustache and trench coat (unless you're into that sort of thing – Nobody doesn't judge). You wouldn't expect shops to serve you without being able to see if you're actually in their store. And you definitely wouldn't trust someone who insists on conducting all business from behind a potted plant while using a voice modifier.
So when you see the cookie notice, remember: Nobody respects your privacy enough to be honest about how the internet actually works. We need cookies like restaurants need plates – sure, you could try to serve soup without them, but it's going to get messy real quick.
***
Back to the anonymity enthusiasts. Remember, every crypto-anarchist story, loudly advocating for internet freedom, ends the same way when someone drains their wallet. They demand to trace the scammers by IP. Every time, it's a costly lesson in how things work outside of teenage fantasies.
Here's the thing: the people selling you "military-grade privacy solutions" to block basic website functionality are like those guys who used to sell "invisible" license plate covers that would supposedly hide your car from traffic cameras. How did that work out? (Spoiler: Not great, and some people got tickets for having illegal license plate covers ON TOP of their traffic violations. Nobody loves irony.)
After all, as Nobody always says: "In a public space, the only true anonymity is being exactly who you are."
(Actually, Nobody never said that. But Nobody's pretty busy right now organizing Their meme folder, so we're taking some creative liberties with the divine quotations.)

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