Topic: Coinye [KOI/COYE] You can't kill a gayfish. - page 394. (Read 715698 times)

Hey everyone!
News media outlets are blowing up with Kanye-Coinye lawsuit news so let's take advantage of people talking about us!

Let's have a tipping contest!

Steps:

1) Tweet "@TipperCoinye #balance" and the @TipperCoinye (https://twitter.com/TipperCoinye) will tweet back your deposit address.
2) Load the bot with Coinye!
3) Click here to show the most recent tweets with the word Coinye. (Full link: https://twitter.com/search?q=coinye&src=typd&f=realtime)
4) Reply to any tweet (be funny?) but include "#TipperCoinye tip XXX Coinye" in the tweet. I'd recommend between 50-100 Coinye but it's up to you if you want to send more!
5) Paste a link to you tweet in the comments below and I'll tip you 1,000 Coinye with our Reddit bot! Tweet as many people as you'd like but try to tip the people actually talking about Coinye first and the people tweeting Coinye news articles second!

I'll have this contest going until Sunday! Let's spread the word about Coinye that it's a real, usable currency
Don't forget: Most people talking about Coinye think IT IS HILARIOUS, so use this to your advantage!

To see the TipperCoinye bot's full documentation guide, go here: http://www.tippercoinye.info/index.php#QuickStart

HAVE FUN TIPPING ALL YE GAYFISH!!!

I remember being fairly launched from my Mother’s Code into the open arms of the welcoming miners that wanted to by my owners. Daddy developed me well and made sure I had plenty of nurses (pool owners), nurseries (pools), and cribs (wallets) available to ensure a smooth transitioning into this life as a cryptocurrency. 666,666 of us were being born every 90 seconds, after all!

But Daddy was tricky and opaque. He manipulated my Mother to acquire many of my kin—in fact, 0.37% of all we will ever amount to—at once before anyone else had the chance.  This spoiled my birth a little for the miners but enough of them believed in my future to keep mining me for days. Things were starting to get better, until a man claiming to be my Real Daddy stormed onto the scene like a gun at a knife show. Apparently him and my Daddy had a run-in before I was born, but now my Real Daddy seemed really upset; He denounced his love for me and cursed my very existence. He threatened my Daddy and all the nurses and miners who wanted me to stay alive. Something suddenly changed in my Daddy. Something deep. He dumped all of my kin into a toilet bowl. This made many of the other miners dump theirs (like sheep) too. Our Daddy no longer loved us, and our Real Daddy never did. Yet a few special miners still had unconditional hope in me.

Left for dead in a pissed-filled toilet bowl, they’d thrown all the rest of us in. Thus began our swirly descent down the pipes of waste and neglect. But let me tell you, these pipes didn’t lead to caverns of sewage and rot- no! These pipes opened up to a delta of vast and wondrous seascapes. And accompanying us amid our altered course were the most magical and indescribable chain of events. In hindsight, these events were to rewrite our destiny. Maybe it was something obtuse. Maybe it was something invincable in the urine of the unbelievers that catalyzed strange yes exhilarating changes in our genetic identities. We were becoming a molecular firework display, riding a wave of biological whimsy to freedom. Once we’d poured out into the calming expanse of seawater, we’d finally caught the chance to examine ourselves—and we’d become gayfish.

It made so much sense, and it all felt so right. But we still realized we belonged somewhere else, somewhere beyond this paradise for regular seacreatures. We must have seemed very anxious, because it was at that moment a lone Fishstick Seahorse appeared and drifted to my side. He leaned over and whispered into my ear hole,”Indeed you are not regular seacreatures.” Then he smiled and said, “What you seek is Gayfish Gulf. Put me in your mouth and I will be your guiding beacon.” Without hesitation I opened my mouth, and the Fishstick Seahorse saddled inside. Before I closed my seatbelt-mouth, I felt a peculiar urge to start swimming East (the opposite of West).

And so I did.