Shocking SafeMoon Scandal: Deceit, Million-Dollar Schemes & “Monstrous” Confessions Unveiled! 🤑💔

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It is a truth universally acknowledged, that a DeFi scheme in possession of a sudden fortune, must be in want of honest men—of which, alas, SafeMoon found itself most deficient. This week, Mr. Thomas “Papa” Smith, lately encouraged to style himself as a gentleman of technological accomplishment (though whose morals, one might say, more closely resembled those of a highwayman), delivered a confession in a New York courtroom so astonishing that even Lady Catherine de Bourgh herself would have been rendered speechless.

Mr. Smith—already acquainted with guilt as intimately as a cousin at a country dance—took the stand against Mr. John Karony, erstwhile CEO, and Mr. Kyle Nagy, the project’s creator, all of whom are now rather celebrated guests of the legal system. It appears their short-lived season of glory in 2021 was less a summer of hope than an extravagant masquerade, where ball gowns concealed pickpockets and tokens vanished into the night.

To the delight of every idle earl and city gossip, Mr. Smith declared that SafeMoon’s code functioned like a secret passage—cleverly constructed so those in the know could filch millions with the discretion of a midnight elopement, whilst assuring investors that the family silver (or, as the moderns call it, “the liquidity pool”) was securely locked away.

“With all due respect,” Mr. Smith addressed the court, “the only thing you should trust from a man asking for your trust is that you’re about to be taken for a splendid ride.” Poetic! One wonders if his next address will be from a different sort of gated community.

Prosecutors paraded before the court the most damning evidence: videos wherein Mr. Karony, Mr. Smith, and that notorious influencer Ben Phillips (a man whose reputation among mothers of fortune-hunting daughters is, I’m assured, most alarming) promised faithfully that funds would return to the famed PancakeSwap pool. Reader, they did not. Instead, the Poor Dear Funds danced away to USDT, a coin with as much compatibility with SafeMoon’s pools as Mr. Collins has with wit.

Should that not make you clutch your pearls, pray consider this: Mr. Nagy, in a tender gesture of friendship (or perhaps bribery—who can distinguish these days?), gifted Mr. Smith half a million dollars in SafeMoon tokens, all traced back to the aforementioned liquidity pool. “In former days, my moral compass pointed true north,” Smith mused. “But after I had the money, I ceased all navigation, and became that monster I so eloquently decried…” Such candour! Such dramatic flair! Perhaps he has ambitions for the stage, now that finance has proven perilous.

Nor was this all. The court was introduced to a secretive device, called “exclude from tax,” permitting insiders to avoid the common 10% fee—a scheme so delightfully devious one nearly expects to read of it in a circulating library novel. Predictably, mere mortals were denied this pleasure, for the privilege belonged solely to those who kept the main wallet, much as a parson keeps the parish keys.

Mr. Karony’s defense, in an act of spectacular optimism, insisted the liquidity pool could be tapped “for emergencies,” a claim which Smith countered as gracefully as Mrs. Bennet fending off scandal: “It was used for things that were not emergencies,” he declared, and the gavel, one presumes, trembled in agreement.

Thus concludes our episode of deceit, duplicity, and digital derring-do—a tale proving yet again that, whether in drawing rooms or blockchain, one must keep one’s wits and wallet alike guarded, and never trust a suitor—especially if he arrives bearing tokens.

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2025-05-13 21:05