GRUMPYLAD WAS JUST AN AVERAGE DUDE

WITH A WALLET FULL OF HOPES. THEN A RUG

PULL WIPED HIM OUT—DREAMS, CASH, AND

ANY FAITH IN TO THE MOON HYPE. INSTEAD

OF CRYING, HE GRIPEd NONSTOP: ABOUT

WHALES PUMPING, DEVS GHOSTING, AND A

MARKET THAT SCREWED HIM OVER. ALL THAT

GRUMBLING TURNED HIM INTO A SARCASTIC

GRUMPY BEAN, COMPLETE WITH A SMIRK AND

ZERO DELUSIONS. NOW HE RUNS GRUMPYLAD

COIN, A TOKEN FOR FOLKS FED UP WITH FAKE

PROMISES. NO LAMBOs, NO MOON—JUST SOUR

VIBES AND A SHOT AT BREAKING EVEN, MAYBE,

WITH A SHRUG