- MOODENG soared skywardā112% in a single dayāwhile volume erupted by a gasp-worthy 387%.
- As prices scrambled higher, a whale of Dostoyevskian gravity slid sell orders to $0.565 and $1.11, frowning at the rabble below.
Once,āor perhaps not for the last timeāwe witnessed a Bollinger Band squeeze so tight it would make a gulag gate jealous. Moo Deng [MOODENG], emboldened, shot over 112%, pausing to catch its breath at $0.26249. A squeeze, yes. Like winter frost under a plywood roof: unpredictable and coldly marvelous.
Weāve seen these squeezes beforeāusually followed by rallies with the restraint of a vodka-fueled poem.
The price grew out of its wretched $0.21678 childhood, stumbling toward the upper BB at $0.29834, only to collapse, exhausted, in the bureaucratic wasteland some call āmarket consolidation.ā
Meanwhile, the trading volume didnāt just rise; it stormed the charts, up 387%. The buyers, faceless, marching in step, all believing theyād be the ones to leave with pockets full, not empty ration cans.
MACD grunted out a bullish crossover, just as a Siberian wolf howls before dawnābut the histogramās meager -0.00020 whispered of a buying crowd as tired as a third shift factory worker. The jokes wrote themselves.
Ā
Ā
So: the MACD line (0.02985) ducked beneath the signal line (0.03006) like a prisoner slipping into shadowsāswift and telling. Buyers, it seemed, had lost their rations for the morning.
Should the $0.26249 defenses holdāheroic, for nowāMOODENG could lurch onward to $0.29834 or even the off-limits province of $0.35. But if the winter winds return, thereās only exile: $0.21678, perhaps even $0.169 (bring boots).
Down at $0.11232, the support level sits with the stoic patience of a train station benchāunmoved by noise or by crowd, enduring all.
For the promised uptrend? MACD needs a miracle, and the priceāa small oathāmust stay above the middle band, or else thereās only history and regret.
As I write, MOODENG limps, momentum lost in the snow-drifts, though the marketās volatility threatens one final, reckless dash.
Will the sell limit orders of MOODENG whale be activated?
Somewhere deep in the marketās caverns, a whaleāgrizzled, probably baldingāplaces limit sell orders so brazen youād think he never heard of humility:
2 million tokens poised at $0.565, demanding $543,000; 1.1 million looking down at $1.11, muttering about $298,000. Itās like staking out bread lines in the hope that bakers will go mad.
Yet, even as the market resembled a prisoner uprising, the price barely brushed against the whaleās steely sell walls. The tokens remained unclaimed; the whale unmoved, like Tolstoy staring at a tax form.

Perhaps buyers will rally, storming those sell barriers in a burst of irrational exuberance. Or maybe the crowd will scatterāfaces pale, eyes avertedāleaving the whale surrounded by unsold dreams, gnawing on stale profit-crust.
The whale, ever vindictive or perhaps only bored, waits. The crowdās machinations, in the end, determine nothing; fate dances just out of reachāas always, indifferent, and slightly amused. š³š
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2025-05-13 02:43