$COUCHFART wasn’t launched, it was summoned!

Out of every battered sofa, every sagging loveseat, a signal rose: A low, rumbling call to arms (and cheeks).

At first, you laughed. Another meme coin you thought. But then the cushions spoke louder. The air grew electric with creaks, groans, and faint pops of destiny.

You realized $COUCHFART wasn’t just another joke — It was a prophecy stuffed between worn cushions and broken dreams. A soft rebellion, muffled but undeniable.

Old couches became battle stations.Ottomans whispered trading secrets.Recliners roared with conviction.

We didn’t find $COUCHFART. It found us — slumped, exhausted, perfectly positioned for greatness.

Now, we sit deeper. We lean into the madness. We move only when the fart tells us.

Because $COUCHFART isn’t a project. It’s a revolution upholstered in destiny. A movement too stubborn — and too gassy — to be stopped.

The time is now. Feel the rumble. Join the congregation of the seated.

linktr.ee/depressedcouchfart

TG: DepressedCouchFart

CA: CUCkibMeeFG1rYWhxnaPqHeACbjg4hX4NSDstohHpump