One Last Word on This Subject

Read or stop following me

Photo by Dima Pechurin on Unsplash

Every day I get more people following me.

I look at their profiles. This one has half a dozen articles about how he made beaucoup $$$ by publishing here. This one has a dozen articles about how he made beaucoup $$$ publishing here. I look at their articles. For the life of me, I don’t see how they do it.

They cannot even write.

I read around. The people I follow. Good writers.

This one has 4K followers, an average of 200 claps and makes hardly any money.

This one has 2K followers, an average of 100 claps and makes hardly any money.

This one has over 6K followers, an average of 350 claps and makes a few dollars.

And this one, bless her, has over 11K followers and on a good day maybe gets 3K claps. Otherwise, about 600. Every day begging someone to buy her a coffee.

We all see the headlines, people writing “trending” stories about how much they make in order to get us reading their stories so they can make money. People writing humor and satire about those stories so that we will read them so they can make money.

But the real question is, if anyone here is interested in making money, and apparently many are, why is it so difficult and how exactly does one go about doing it? Aside from the garbage advice one gets from the people who supposedly make it (and probably some actually do…but the advice is still “garbage” because IT SIMPLY APPLIES TO THEM AND NOT YOU!) what really works?

How is it that someone can have 6000 followers and only get 350 “claps” for a well-written piece? For crying out loud, even if all of them were “one-clappers” that should be 6000 claps! What the hell are they “following” you for? Scraps?

These days I know what they follow you for, most of them.

From the moment I set foot, metaphorically, in this place, five years ago, I have read some of the best writing online I’ve ever seen.

I’ve also had to digest some of the unbelievably worst.

And they get equal footing. So democratic. Yawn.


I have seen the CRAPPIEST poets outside of a junior high school playground get more than a thousand claps on this platform and some of the best, most talented, hardest-working writers on this platform be almost totally ignored…while having even more followers!!!


And who am I asking? The thin air? The blue sky (is it blue?)? Am I asking you? Do you know the answer? Please don’t say you do if you don’t.

I have a good feeling, way, way down inside (short drum solo here) about who does know the answer.

His is the name we are not supposed to speak.

I have spoken this name before, and I am trying my best not to speak it again. He has a special algorithm running around the platform searching for all the appearances of his name so that he can PFFFTT!! like a huge python rid the place of all creatures great and small who print it.

I have some suggestions for The Nameless One.

In fact I have many, but in this particular regard I have a few.

So many of these “followers” are little more than maggots and leeches. They follow in order to be followed. That’s all. Or they follow because they want you to buy something from them, even worse.

Some of them are the nastiest. They are nothing but MARKETERS.

So, Nameless One, PROHIBIT THIS PRACTICE. Or at least stop paying people for it if it is part of the payment algorithm.

Instead, go back to paying people for “claps.”

BUT…Only one clap per person per article. That’s all.

The Nameless One, and for good reason (I’ll clap for that) wanted to get rid of those REALLY NASTY groups that got together to clap for each other as a PRIVATE CONSPIRACY and were FUCKING WITH the algorithm he set up in an attempt to pay writers somewhat fairly.


Bring back the claps. Fuck those groups and their cheesy little KKK methods.

So fuck them and, if you’re one of them…FUCK YOU! Fuck you, fuck the mother who bore you, fuck everything that comes out of you and fuck every place that it comes from. You ruined business here for everyone, including yourselves. Happy now?

Go on back to Facebook or Zoom or whatever corner of internet hell you and your Klan meets to make your fuckwad plans and go clap for your selfish stupidity there.

All 500 of you want to give 50 claps apiece for each other’s silly ten-line daily journal poems? Do it on Instagram and don’t screw up the MPP for serious writers here!

There. Now boo me. Boo hoo.

I would go ahead and embarrass a bunch of people by listing all sorts of TALENTED writers who are not making money because of YOUR infantile inanity. Dozens and dozens of them. But that would go in one ear and out the other while you are slapping yourselves on each other’s backs, telling each other how wonderful YOU are while crying to each other about your miseries.

Because it is one thing to write about yourself and quite another to write speaking of yourself while actually discussing humanity. And until you truly understand the difference you cannot honestly call yourself a writer.

Let alone an “empath.”

Speaking of slapping, I was struck with this nonsense when I returned to the platform from a brief hiatus, a sabbatical of sorts undertaken to make some necessary changes in society rather than — like some — only being concerned with my own ego and my own Klan.

Yes, I come back here after about 9–10 months trying to actually get rid of Donald Trump and his minions instead of just sitting here and whinging about how he hurts my poor feelings and, holy crap, it’s even worse than it was before!!! Yes, before, when a half-way serious writer working daily could make $50–100 a month.

NOW??? Nothing!!! Because of these self-centered, know-nothing, talentless, infantile, navel-worshipping schmucks.

So. Mr. He Who Shall Not Be Named: Change the fucking algorithm again to make it fair for the real writers. Oh, and Mr. Ev Williams of Medium: Do it fast before this cesspool creates too big a stink and everyone runs away, okay?

In the meantime, you FAKE FOLLOWERS: Start reading what people write. That goes for everyone you follow. In this instance, my work especially. If not…

Here’s the fucking door, asshole.

Possessor of Paul Newman eyes. Author of many things straightforward and strange. Some of them appear here. “Women zai shuo ba” as the Mandarin say. Born 2016.

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