I Got Rugged / Not-Rugged by a Friend’s Token… and Rediscovered My Soul

I don’t shill memecoins.

I’m not in the game for pump-and-dumps, exit scams, or hype with no backbone. But this one was different—or at least, I wanted to believe it was.

I knew one of the founders personally. Not as some Twitter handle or Discord mod—but in real life. I believed in their integrity. I believed in their heart. 

And when they told me they were launching a memecoin, I thought: “Well, okay. Maybe it’s just for fun. Maybe it’s a small bet on a big idea.”

I didn’t promote it. I didn’t post. I didn’t even tell my friends. Because deep down, I knew I couldn’t do it in good conscience. But I still wanted to show support, so I joined the Telegram and waited quietly with the rest of the community for the launch.

The Launch Moment

After five days of teasers and build-up, the contract address dropped… just as I was walking into a meeting (of course).

Not wanting to miss out, I texted my wife—yes, my real-life, ride-or-die wife—to buy in for me on Uniswap. She’s a crypto native too, and she made the swap like a champ. By the time I walked out of my meeting, the token had already 6x’ed.

Wild, right? 

Only…

Minutes later… it cratered.

The “Sniper” and the Rewind

That’s when the founders came forward with the announcement: 

A “sniper” had bought 35% of the supply. 

They pulled the liquidity to “protect the community” and said they’d relaunch the token under a new contract.

In other words, they hit rewind. On-chain history? Irrelevant. The community’s trades invalidated. The sniper’s gains nullified.

I sat there wondering… Did I just get rugged?

Turns out I didn’t. 

But that’s the extent of the “good news”: 

No one walked off with the cash. 

Technically, they did relaunch the token. And yes, they sent everyone their new tokens 1-for-1. I even got mine. But something deeper didn’t sit right.

Centralized Chaos

Here’s the part that gnawed at me: this wasn’t decentralized. This wasn’t “crypto.”

It was complete, 100% centralized control.

The sniper didn’t hack anything. 

They just clicked “Buy”—same as anyone else could have. 

Was it predatory? Maybe. But isn’t that the risk in a free market launch? 

You can’t preach decentralization and then seize back assets from someone because they played the game better than you.

That’s not justice. That’s despotism disguised by slick marketing.

The Faith Factor

Then came the kicker.

As the dust settled, I started paying closer attention to the messaging. 

This wasn’t just a meme project anymore. Now it was “a movement.” A spiritual one. They were wrapping their token in the language of my faith.

Memes about salvation, redemption, divine calling—all of it layered over the coin like a gospel track pasted on a gambling slip.

That was it for me.

I took a walk with my wife and poured it all out. 

How this project had crossed a line—several of them. 

How it violated everything that drew me to crypto in the first place—freedom, self-sovereignty, and transparent systems that don’t need a central savior.

It wasn’t about the money anymore. I could care less. 

I sold the token. At a loss. 

I left the Telegram. 

I walked away.

Truth and Trash

I’m still friends with the founder. Always will be. I don’t blame them. I believe they’re trying to do good. But even good intentions can be used to justify bad mechanisms.

Here’s what I’ve come to accept: memecoins are trash.

Not because people can’t make money with them—some do. And I’m not here to judge anyone who plays the game. It’s their money. It’s their right. 

Life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness, right?

But as for me?

I can’t support something that violates the first principles that make me love Bitcoin. And here’s the big one: in true crypto, no one can change the rules mid-game.

That’s what separates Bitcoin from a casino chip. That’s what gives it moral weight in a world drowning in manipulation.

Memecoins, for all their charm and dopamine hits, are 100% centralized, 100% founder-controlled, and 100% empty promises. 

They claim to be about community—but they’re engineered for extraction. They talk about changing the game—but they never explain how.

They’re the Marxist manifestos of crypto: promising utopia while offering no working model to get there.

Real Crypto Doesn’t Ask for Your Trust

Bitcoin doesn’t need a founder to promise a relaunch.

It doesn’t need clever memes to convince you of its worth.

It doesn’t need your faith—it earns your trust by never asking for it.

So yeah, I got rugged. And not rugged. 

The token relaunched, the story moved on, the charts keep ticking up and down.

Maybe it moons. 

But I walked away with something far more valuable than a moonbag.

I walked away with my soul.