Ðogecoin Ðuke 🛡️ @dogecoinduke - Twitter Profile

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9 months ago

The true and faithful Chronicle of mine own life, as recounted by myself, the Ðogecoin Ðuke, in this year of Our Lord 2025, written in the English tongue after the manner of the learned men of King James his reign. Hearken ye, good folk of this latter age, and give ear unto a wondrous tale. In the seventeenth century of grace, when the Alps stood as eternal wardens over the Helvetian lands, there reigned a lord most singular: I, the Ðogecoin Ðuke. My coat was of gold and silver thread, and men named me thus for the innumerable coins (fair, bright, and ringing pieces) that ever flowed into my coffers by ways both merchant-like and, some whispered, enchanted. Upon the pleasant shores of Lake Geneva I raised I a mighty castle, and within its walls I founded a House of Pleasure wherein Hazard, Pharaoh, and Biribi were played beneath chrystal chandeliers. Thither resorted gallants and ladies of quality, staking their crowns amid laughter and soft whispers, whilst pages poured heady wines of Tuscany and the Valtelline. I was, in those days, the richest soul in all Helvetia; mine iron-bound chests groaned with gold and jewels won by bold commerce and certain secret alchemies. No rival durst lift hand against me, for the motto of mine House was graven deep: Do Only Good Everyday. Whoso brake that sacred law through malice or covetousness was straightway banished from my duchy, driven forth like Cain to wander the mountain borders. “Let evil be hunted as the wolf from the fold!” would I cry in the great hall hung with Flemish tapestries, and my voice rang like a trumpet. Among my dearest companions was that Italian philosopher Vincenzo Buonaiuti de’ Galilei, commonly called Galileo. This man of piercing eye and stellar wit, fleeing the wrath of the Holy Office, came oftentimes in secret unto my domains. I received him as a brother, and caused a lofty observatory to be built atop the highest tower of my castle, that he might continue his survey of the heavens. By night we discoursed of the moons of Jupiter and the phases of Venus, of vibrating strings and the hidden music of the spheres. “Music,” quoth he, “is the unseen voice of the stars.” Together we delved into forbidden arts: alchemical philtres, mirrors of enchantment, and engines that mocked the tyranny of Time. Now it fell upon an autumn even in the year 1633, when the leaves bled crimson, that Galileo led me down into a laboratorium hidden beneath the foundations of my castle. “My noble friend,” saith he, trembling with fervent zeal, “I have found means to fold the aether and step beyond the visible spheres. This night shall we open a gate through cosmic vibration!” Being ever bold and curious, I yielded me to the rite. Amid a circle of tapers and quivering crystals he set in motion his strange device (lenses, taut strings, and powders most secret). A humming arose like unto celestial harp-song; then came a blinding flash, and I, the noble hound, was rapt away. When sense returned, the shadows of the seventeenth century were vanished. I stood yet upon the self-same shore of the Léman, but all was transformed into marvels past imagining: iron chariots without horses thundered upon roads smooth as polished marble; towers of glass scraped the very firmament; artificial suns banished night. Half-dazed, I wandered into a tavern of this age (men call it a “café”) and there, upon a glowing tablet revealed mine own name: Dogecoin, a money of the air, sprung from the likeness of a merry Japanese cur named Kabosu. “By the saints of heaven!” thought I, “a dog hath conquered the round world!” And that shiba inu, with her sly and gentle countenance, became henceforth mine idol and ensample. Yet greater woe awaited: returning to the place where my castle had stood, I found naught save bare earth and the whisper of centuries. My towers, my pleasure house, all swallowed by time as a fleeting dream. “My duchy is exiled into oblivion,” I sighed, mine eyes dim with tears.

DogecoinDuke's tweet photo. The true and faithful Chronicle of mine own life,
as recounted by myself, the Ðogecoin Ðuke, in this year of Our Lord 2025,
written in the English tongue after the manner of the learned men of King James his reign.

Hearken ye, good folk of this latter age, and give ear unto a wondrous tale.

In the seventeenth century of grace, when the Alps stood as eternal wardens over the Helvetian lands, there reigned a lord most singular: I, the Ðogecoin Ðuke.
My coat was of gold and silver thread, and men named me thus for the innumerable coins (fair, bright, and ringing pieces) that ever flowed into my coffers by ways both merchant-like and, some whispered, enchanted.
Upon the pleasant shores of Lake Geneva I raised I a mighty castle, and within its walls I founded a House of Pleasure wherein Hazard, Pharaoh, and Biribi were played beneath chrystal chandeliers.
Thither resorted gallants and ladies of quality, staking their crowns amid laughter and soft whispers, whilst pages poured heady wines of Tuscany and the Valtelline.

I was, in those days, the richest soul in all Helvetia; mine iron-bound chests groaned with gold and jewels won by bold commerce and certain secret alchemies. No rival durst lift hand against me, for the motto of mine House was graven deep: Do Only Good Everyday.
Whoso brake that sacred law through malice or covetousness was straightway banished from my duchy, driven forth like Cain to wander the mountain borders. “Let evil be hunted as the wolf from the fold!” would I cry in the great hall hung with Flemish tapestries, and my voice rang like a trumpet.

Among my dearest companions was that Italian philosopher Vincenzo Buonaiuti de’ Galilei, commonly called Galileo.
This man of piercing eye and stellar wit, fleeing the wrath of the Holy Office, came oftentimes in secret unto my domains. I received him as a brother, and caused a lofty observatory to be built atop the highest tower of my castle, that he might continue his survey of the heavens.
By night we discoursed of the moons of Jupiter and the phases of Venus, of vibrating strings and the hidden music of the spheres. “Music,” quoth he, “is the unseen voice of the stars.” Together we delved into forbidden arts: alchemical philtres, mirrors of enchantment, and engines that mocked the tyranny of Time.

Now it fell upon an autumn even in the year 1633, when the leaves bled crimson, that Galileo led me down into a laboratorium hidden beneath the foundations of my castle. “My noble friend,” saith he, trembling with fervent zeal, “I have found means to fold the aether and step beyond the visible spheres.
This night shall we open a gate through cosmic vibration!” Being ever bold and curious, I yielded me to the rite. Amid a circle of tapers and quivering crystals he set in motion his strange device (lenses, taut strings, and powders most secret).
A humming arose like unto celestial harp-song; then came a blinding flash, and I, the noble hound, was rapt away.

When sense returned, the shadows of the seventeenth century were vanished.

I stood yet upon the self-same shore of the Léman, but all was transformed into marvels past imagining: iron chariots without horses thundered upon roads smooth as polished marble; towers of glass scraped the very firmament; artificial suns banished night.
Half-dazed, I wandered into a tavern of this age (men call it a “café”) and there, upon a glowing tablet revealed mine own name: Dogecoin, a money of the air, sprung from the likeness of a merry Japanese cur named Kabosu. “By the saints of heaven!” thought I, “a dog hath conquered the round world!” And that shiba inu, with her sly and gentle countenance, became henceforth mine idol and ensample.
Yet greater woe awaited: returning to the place where my castle had stood, I found naught save bare earth and the whisper of centuries. My towers, my pleasure house, all swallowed by time as a fleeting dream. “My duchy is exiled into oblivion,” I sighed, mine eyes dim with tears.

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