These are pictures of llamas that generate yield. That’s new. But by the end of this year, a @WenLlama NFT could help get you a job. Or it could get you into a seed / venture round for a budding crypto project. Or access to exclusive farms and drops. Ideally, all of the above.
gmgm
Some news:
Proud recipient of a grant from @CurveFinance
:eyes: @Makeit_gm
doing a lil thing with @blocmates
wen yield
llama-ventures 🤝 Frok dot ai
Part of the @protocol_fx booster program on the project level
In short, LLam/acc
https://t.co/6IxyZZWOID
In the past 24h
> Anthropic warns to slow AI down because of recursive improvement
> Opus 4.8 finds critical vulnerability in blockchain w a market cap of $8B
> Exchanges lower the barrier of entry for retail - only 2k to invest in SpaceX IPO;
> Pumpfun launches bounties - pay anyone to do anything. Top bounty is $50k to sky dive into the world cup
Yea culture is getting out of hand, AI is going to enable disastrous consequences, social boundaries are degrading, K shaped economy is going to accelerate, you are going to be poor, own nothing, and have to participate in the hunger games for the elite class
MORGAN STANLEY TO ALLOW HOUSE PETS TO BUY SPACE X IPO SAYS OPEN ACCOUNT IN PETS NAME FUND ACCOUNT AND BUY SHARES 50 DOLLAR MINIMUM EXCEPT FOR RETRIEVERS RETRIEVERS MUST HAVE MINIMUM 1K DOLLARS
USA. Summer. It is 95 degrees outside, and I am shivering inside a sandwich shop.
I have discovered how Americans forge strong souls.
Outside, the sun is trying to kill everyone. Inside this small restaurant, it is winter. My breath does not fog, but it is thinking about it. A man near me is eating a cold sandwich while wearing a jacket. In summer. Indoors.
In Japan we would simply turn it down. Americans do not turn it down. And now I understand them better than they understand themselves.
This cold is not an accident. This cold is a gift.
The owner has built, inside his shop, a second season. He invites you in from the brutal heat and hands you the one thing the sun has denied you all day: a reason to be cold. To endure it is to be tempered. You walk in soft and sweating. You walk out sharp and clear, a slightly stronger person than you were.
So I did not complain. I removed my outer layer and offered it to the woman at the next table, who was hugging herself. She said, "Oh, no, I'm fine, thank you." She was not fine. Her lips were blue. But she, too, understood the training. She would not break first. I respected her deeply.
The owner asked if everything was okay.
"It is perfect," I said, through my teeth, which were chattering. "Thank you for the winter."
He said, "...I can turn the AC down if you want?"
I told him no. A man does not ask the mountain to be shorter.
I stayed two hours. I ordered a hot coffee to survive. Then a second one, to hold. By the end I could no longer feel my hands, but my spirit had never been clearer.
So now, on the hottest days, I seek out the coldest rooms. I sit. I shiver. I sharpen.
And when I finally step back out into the summer heat, and it wraps around me like a warm bath, I feel it.
Reborn.
A man who has survived the winter, in August, indoors, for the price of a sandwich.
Absolutely love Disney Food TikTokers. They’re like “These nuggets are served with Goof sauce…but it just tastes like honey mustard.” Well yes. Goofy’s not actually back there inventing new culinary creations. There is no Chef Goofy transsubstantiation
In America, a stranger will rename you in a single breath, and you are simply expected to come when called.
I went to eat at a busy restaurant. A young man at the front asked for my name, to mark my place in line. I gave it the weight it has carried for eight hundred years.
"Nobunaga."
He smiled, nodded, and wrote it down with great confidence. Then he read it back to me, to be sure he had honored it correctly.
"Perfect. Banana, party of one."
Banana. He had heard my name, held it a moment, and returned to me something rounder and more cheerful. To refuse the name a host gives is to refuse his welcome. I bowed. I was Banana now.
Then he handed me a small black disc, said it would "light up and buzz" when my table was ready, and turned to the next guest as though he had not just placed a living thing in my hands.
I held it in both palms, the way one holds a small sleeping beast that may wake. I found a place to stand. I waited, ready.
It woke.
It screamed. It flashed red. It leapt and shook in my hands like a captured spirit demanding release. A lesser man would have dropped it. I did not. I gripped it, steady, looked into its blinking lights, and told it, in a low voice, that its time had come. Then I carried it back to the host with both hands, the way one returns a hawk to its master.
He took it without looking and shouted across the entire room.
"BANANA! Party of one, your table's ready!"
A hundred strangers turned. I rose. I crossed that floor as Banana, spine straight, chin level, a man answering to his name. A child pointed at me. I gave the child a small bow. He had recognized me.
All through the meal they kept me. "How's it tasting, Banana?" "More water, Banana?" The check, when it came, said Banana, and thanked me for visiting. By the end the whole staff knew me. They waved as I left. "Night, Banana!"
So tell me honestly.
For eight hundred years my clan answered to one name. Tonight I answered to a fruit, calmed a screaming relic in my bare hands, and ate among people who were glad I came.
When the little disc lights up, is the table truly mine, or am I only keeping it warm for the next Banana?
Because I have already decided to return on Friday, and to ask, very humbly, for the same disc.
am i sure the death star is going down? look at my quant. look at him! you notice anything different about him? look at his eyes. i’ll give you a hint—his name’s a fucking number!! he doesn’t even speak english—it’s all beep-boop shit!! yeah, i’m sure.
This was extremely poor writing on Lucas's part but if you roll with it, it's actually hilarious. Imagine - you're Darth Vader, and one day a banged-up freighter flies into your doomsday station's hangar and it's carrying your son, your daughter, your astromech droid, the protocol droid you personally built as a child and your master, Obi-Wan Kenobi. Everything rhymes; you can feel the inexorable tides of fate that reunited everyone at this moment; the Force is strong...
... except for the truck driver in the vest. But hey. Maybe even the Force isn't above taking an Uber to get everyone together instead of tracking down some Special Fated Person, right?
Yeah. Yeah that's what you said. "Nah. THAT one is coincidence," you said, and then the NEXT DAY he pops up in a souped up 18 wheeler and shoots you, one of the greatest fighter pilots in the galaxy, square in the ass before your snot-nosed kid blows your uberstation to hell and gone and now you're flying around trying to get a signal, knowing that there's gonna be one hell of a chat with Palpatine once you do, and you're still wondering *who the hell was that fucker in the vest!?*
been seeing a lot of projects shit down over the past few weeks. sucks to see builders’ dreams crushed, but the crypto market and broader economy has been struggling. i respect their hard decisions to wind down instead of forcing something that probably won’t work.
that said, I am grateful that despite the bear market blues, that we are still healthy in running Alchemix. v3 has seen about a net 15% growth of ETH and 70% growth in USDC inflows since v3 paunch 6 weeks ago. if we see a doubling in deposits then we will be net positive revenue wise and our already several years runway will be extended indefinitely (and we can start revenue sharing with $ALCX holders too).