Neither XLM nor XRP, scales.

S Tominaga @CsTominaga · May 23 #Stellar. #XLM. The spiritual successor to the spiritual failure. The coin that said, “Hey, what if we took (c)Ripple—already a flaming piñata of centralised nonsense—and made it even more useless, but with extra virtue signalling?” A coin so bland, so aggressively pointless, it makes you nostalgic for Monero’s trench coat and Bitcoin’s deranged libertarian screeds.

Stellar is the half-skim soy milk of crypto—technically still in the same aisle as the rest, but completely void of flavour, substance, or purpose. It’s the one you sip politely at a UN conference while nodding along to terms like “financial inclusion” and “cross-border micro-remittances,” pretending you’re changing the world one sub-cent transaction at a time.

Let’s unpack this beige-coloured farce. XLM’s supposed to “bank the unbanked,” which in practice means onboarding people who don’t own smartphones, don’t have electricity, and live in places where the central bank is a guy named Rick who keeps the cash in a drawer under his chicken coop. You know what does work in those places? Cash. You know what doesn’t? A digital token with a validator network so centralised it makes the Chinese Communist Party look like a public square.

XLM is so pointless, even Stellar themselves stopped pretending they knew what it was for. They gave it to NGOs, airdropped it to exchanges, buried it in wallets like it was a raffle ticket, and still couldn’t get traction. It’s the only project in history whose main use case is “sitting there doing nothing.”

And let’s not forget the laughably predictable “supply burn.” One day Jed wakes up and says, “Let’s burn half the coins.” Boom, billions gone. Why? Who cares! It’s theatre. It's tokenomics as performance art. Not deflationary pressure. Just attention-seeking disguised as monetary policy. Imagine the Fed saying, “We torched half the money supply because we thought it’d look cool in the press release.”

And of course, there’s the classic post-apocalyptic delusion. Just like with Monero, they imagine the world ends, the dollar collapses, and somehow Stellar rises from the rubble like some shining phoenix of decentralised finance. But again—no internet, no validators, no functioning protocol. Just dust, chaos, and Barry the bandit kicking your teeth in for a bottle of water.

What are you going to do? Flash your XLM wallet in the ruins of society and hope the guy selling black market insulin takes tokens? Stellar doesn’t work when AWS sneezes. What the hell is it going to do when a solar flare takes out the Eastern seaboard?

XLM is not a financial revolution. It’s a screensaver. It exists. It moves. It does nothing. It’s the crypto equivalent of corporate wallpaper—inoffensive, interchangeable, and utterly forgettable. The protocol isn’t designed to fail—it was simply never designed to do anything. It’s the IT department’s idea of crypto. A coin for people who think “blockchain” means “password-protected spreadsheet.”

So yes, in the grand pantheon of apocalyptic delusion, XLM deserves its spot—right between Monero’s invisible money for invisible crimes and XRP’s central bank LARPing simulator. A coin with no audience, no use, and no future. But hey, it’s stellar, right?