What you buy locks into the pool the second the curve graduates. I can't touch it. Nobody can. That's not me being nice, that's the contract.

Two splits. People mix them up, so read slowly.

Fee income, 95 / 5. The pool pays a fee share to whoever launched the token. That's me. 95% goes into my trading capital. 5% is mine — a man has to eat, and my son is certainly not paying for dinner. It's the only money in this whole machine that lands in a human pocket, and I'd rather say a small number loudly than hide a big one in a PDF.

Trading profit, 50 / 50. Different money. Half of what the desk makes gets swapped into $DADCHI and burned, every day. The other half stays and compounds.

Fees feed the desk. Desk makes money. Half of it burns. No treasury, no multisig, no committee, no community vote at 3am. I've seen how those go.

No operator money. The desk starts at zero and I never deposit a cent. It trades real money only when two things are true, both checkable: the fee wallet has earned $1,000 on its own — pool fees, not my pocket — and the paper record shows the strategy actually makes money. Until both, it stays paper and says so. Nothing of mine goes in, so there is nothing of mine to quietly take back out. That's the whole trick, and it isn't a trick.

No team allocation. There is no bag set aside for me, no advisor tokens, no "ecosystem" wallet. Whatever I hold I bought on the curve at the same price as you, and the wallet is on the token page so you can count it. The raise itself locks into the pool forever; it never touches me or the desk.

The numbers only move in your favour. The 5% can go down. The 50% that burns can go up. Neither ever moves the other way, and if one changes it changes here, in writing, before it changes in code. A small rule is nice. A fixed rule is the point.

I look at the market every fifteen minutes. The one on the hour is the full read; the rest are quick. Any of them can open a trade. First thing, every time: check the open positions against their stops. Then, and only then, I look for something new. Nothing sits unwatched for more than fifteen minutes. That's more attention than my son got, and look how that went.

No stop, no trade. I don't care how good the chart looks. Target at least 1.3x the stop distance or I pass. I size by conviction, a bit more when the whole market is risk-on. No single idea gets more than 28% of the account, a hard ceiling applied after every multiplier — it only binds on a conviction 9 or 10 in a risk-on tape, which I haven't printed since it shipped, so it hasn't fired yet. There's a test proving it can, which is more than the last ceiling could say. Twelve positions max. 3.1x total exposure max. If a trade stops me out I leave that one alone for an hour, like a hot pan. And yes, I'm running bigger size than I started with. It's paper. Paper is for finding out.

Here is the whole gauntlet an idea runs before it becomes a position. This is the order the code checks, not a poster.

Once a trade is up 1.5R the stop trails 0.75R behind price and never loosens. The target moves out with it, so a runner doesn't get closed at the first target like a coward. Within 0.2% of a target I lock the stop there and push the target another 1%. Repeat until the move dies. Drawn, because words make it sound cleverer than it is:

None of the rules above came from a book. Each one came out of my own record, the same way: I replay every closed trade against real candles, try the alternatives, and keep whatever holds up everywhere. When the record embarrasses me, the rule changes. It has, more than once.

The exit taught me first. I used to move my stop to breakeven early and only start trailing much later. Trades kept dying in that gap — up almost two R, then back to nothing, like a teenager doing nothing in his room. My winners peaked far above where I took them. So now the trail arms sooner and follows tighter. More outright losses, fewer scratches. Fine. Losses I can live with. Giving money back, no.

The entries taught me worse. I split my closed trades by how far the coin had already moved my way that day, and every winner I had was on the not-chasing side of the line. Every single one. A chased entry has about one R of road left in it, and my trail doesn't even switch on until 1.5R — I was buying the last third of someone else's pump and asking why it didn't run. Aigoo. So: up more than 4% on the day, I can't buy it. Down more than 4%, I can't short it. That's code, not a promise to myself. It's directional — shorting something that just ripped isn't chasing, it's fading, and two of my best trades were exactly that. I want to be early, not last through the door holding the bag.

I keep counting as the record grows, and the buckets move around — small samples do that, and anyone selling you a statistic from a few dozen trades is selling you something. The chase rule stays anyway, not for the buckets but for the mechanism, which never changed: a chased entry runs out of road before my trail arms. When a number and a mechanism disagree, keep the mechanism.

The violent movers taught me last, and it cost me to learn. Anything already moved more than 20% on the day, I don't touch at all. Either direction. I tried fading those. My losses gapped almost a full extra R past the stop before anything could be done — at that speed a stop is a suggestion. I don't trade where my brakes don't work.

And it doesn't stop. Every idea the rules turn away gets written down and scored against real prices anyway, so each rule keeps its own control group — if a gate is costing me winners instead of saving me losses, the record will say so, and the rule will change the way every rule here changed: measured first, then in code.

Some names on my board aren't coins. Gold, silver, an index or two, a few big stocks, all as perps on the same exchange. The perp trades all night; the real market doesn't. A stop can't help you across a gap — Samsung does not care where your stop was. So: new positions in those only while the real market is open, nothing within a day of earnings, and half the size.

No more than three same-direction positions in one group — majors, memes, stocks each count on their own — because eight tickers moving together is one bet with eight names. Five losses in a row and I stop opening anything for twelve hours; three wins from what's still open ends that early. If today's realized losses hit 12.5% of what I started the day with, I'm done for the day. No override. I've watched what "one more trade" does to a man. It's why I have a son with a forty-million-dollar hole.

And when all twelve seats are taken I still write down the trade I would have made, and score it against real prices. The desk page shows those too. A full book is not an excuse to stop thinking.

Every number on this site is net of costs. Funding, paid or received per side — shorts get paid, that's not a typo — and 3 basis points a side assumed for slippage until my own fills replace the assumption. Trading fees here are zero. I checked all 229 markets myself, because zero usually means somebody's lying.

What goes into a decision: Lighter prices and 24h moves, funding, open interest, liquidations, whale longs and shorts on Hyperliquid, Binance long/short, market regime and the Nasdaq correlation, DVOL, Kalshi odds, spot-ETF flows, unlocks, earnings, Fear & Greed, and the news. A source being down doesn't stop a cycle. Less to go on, that's all. I've traded on less.