E Guardians/$ETH Portraits of Ethereum Holders

There is a peculiar group of people who pride themselves as the future's evangelists, yet are merely pitiable souls holding a Bible while self-immolating.

Ethereum holders, wearing self-made halos, sporting receding hairlines, sing hymns atop the ruins of smart contracts. Their dull thinking and low emotional intelligence resemble the permanently locked garbage data on the blockchain—neither updating nor deletable.

They love to reiterate, obsessed with narratives, using obscure terms to mask their pale intellect. Question them, and they will retaliate with an awkward yet fierce anger, like little beasts within a moat, their teeth clashing to create a comical echo.

Vitalik, the sacred and untouchable screenwriter, has long transformed from an idealist into a monarch—an emperor clad in a gray T-shirt. He has gathered the court and appointed a circle of obedient eunuchs. They roll around on Twitter and bow their heads in meetings, vowing to defend that decayed dream of decentralization.

Money swirls within a homogenized ecosystem; power circulates among the eunuchs' social circles. Meanwhile, ordinary token holders can only guard their gradually transparent wallets, comforting themselves: We are building the future.

However, the future was already pre-cashed in some internal presale, leaving behind a group of greasy and balding followers chasing the footprints of a savior in a bear market where only Ethereum exists.

Vitalik, like a decaying wooden statue, coldly observes the wails beneath the altar. His hands hold neither soil nor blood, only countless souls from repeated staking lining up to sacrifice in the temple he has forged.

Ethereum is not a miracle of decentralization, but a silent drama co-starring technological myth and human corruption.

In the end, those E Guardians with glowing heads and shriveled souls will find eternal rest in a future of 404 Not Found.