usdaed

Over the weekend, our dear cryptocurrency made a valiant attempt to rise above its station. Success, alas, proved as fleeting as sincerity at a debutante ball. Today, it nearly caressed the rarefied air of $109,000, only to be reminded by the market’s disapproving aunts—who, in this case, resemble bearish sellers—that one must never aspire above one’s place (unless armed with far more liquidity).

Crypto, you see, never clocks out. It’s a bit like Las Vegas, if every casino only exchanged obscure assets and everyone wore pajamas. So, if the price does strange things over the weekend, blame low trading volume and perhaps too many mimosa-fueled decisions.

CNBC called, eager for prophecy. Ed obliged, speaking with the steady patience of a man well-acquainted with both overcooked optimism and fried pessimism.