They always ask: Brother Damo, why don’t you and your men rush the dozens of pumps, chase the dirty dogs, flip the quick fiftyxs? Why lock eyes on @Plasma , this boring infrastructure pile?

Here is the truth they don’t want you to hear.

Every gold rush, the men who swung picks ended up broke, dust-eyed, buried in shafts they dug themselves. But the ones selling shovels? They built banks.

Today’s Web3 is a carnival of shovels nobody knows how to use. Exchanges are casinos. Chains are amusement parks. But where is the door? Where is the entrance ramp for eight billion people who don’t know what Gas is, don’t care what slippage means, and will never download a Chrome extension that smells like command line?

Right now, this industry is not a gold rush. It is a mutual fondling session among degens. We send tokens to each other, pat ourselves on the back, and pretend the outside world is coming. They are not. Because we made the porch too expensive to stand on.

Plasma is tearing down the porch and building a sidewalk.

They are making on-chain payments feel like sending a WeChat red envelope. Zero friction. Zero seminars about nonce errors. You tap, you send, they receive. That’s it. That sounds so boring it almost hurts. But boring is the only thing that scales. Boring is how water becomes tap water. Boring is how electricity becomes wall socket.

The off-chain money—the hundreds of trillions sitting in bank accounts, treasury bills, corporate vaults—will not enter through a cooler NFT mint. It will enter through an invisible pipe. It will enter when sending value across borders is as dumb and simple as sending a text.

$XPL is that pipe.

One day, when real-world payroll runs on Plasma, when cross-border settlement happens inside a Telegram chat, when the phrase “on-chain” disappears because it’s just “money”—you will look back at today’s valuation and slap your thigh until it bruises. You will remember the days when this was called.... @Plasma #Plasma