MONEY FOR NOTHING
I Got MY 500 Smackaroonies, b*****s!
What’s wrong with you?
Often I reflect that if I ever made more than $100 in a single month here on Medium my life would be ruined. I would immediately become so insufferable my friends would abandon me and my wife would divorce me.
Then wouldn’t you know it, the god of Medium in the person of Al Gorhythm blessed me with the opportunity to test this theory in the form of the $500 bonus of fame. Me. The $500 bonus. I got that.
My prophecy proved spot on. My friends won’t talk to me anymore because I won’t talk about anything else. I’m so insufferable my wife filed for divorce, plus I’ve been invited to join the Proud Boys, but hey — just the price of admission into the ranks of the CME, as in the Certified Medium Elite, right?
The bonus is not in the bank yet but I gaze at my partner program dashboard by the hour. This causes no small trepidation. What if it’s all a mistake? How would I let the air out of my ego and tell my friends I’m just a loser writer wannabe after all? I wouldn’t be able to tell my wife because by now she’s probably remarried. OMG, shudder, the shame! Cast from the lofty heights of the Certified Medium Elite!
How did I reach those heights in the first place, you ask? I only write when I think of something I actually feel like writing about. I never consider the SEO settings, whatever those are. I choose whatever tags take my fancy without the slightest heed to how many articles they have been used on, or whether they help with distribution.
I never write about entrepreneurship, life hacks, how to make money on Medium, how to make money generally, nor anything Medium readers actually feel like reading. In spite of that I’m CME. Do you think they made me CME for nothing? It is obvious that I’m a rock star, a genius. Look on my Works, ye Mighty, and despair!
I intend to spend it all on riotous living. The 500 bucks that is. Riotous living. There is a bit of a problem with that. After four years of Finasteride there is only so much riotousness living I can bring to bear. You might say I put the “A” in LGBTQIA. I’m not on Instagram so I have no place to display myself living riotously, or semi-riotously, or not riotously at all, so what would be the point anyway?
Following that I’ll retire. As a writer I mean. After I do a little riotous living I will become The Retired Writer in the Sun.
Don’t look at me like that. Listen, show me the law that says I have to have a career before I can retire from it! Now that I can sew I can add elbow patches to my tweed jacket. I learned that during the pandemic. Sewing. No sourdough starter for an original like me! Wait. I don’t have a tweed jacket. I might have to make one. Nah, too difficult! I’ll take up pipe smoking. It’s so much easier. Wait. Pipes affect me the same way as do cigars — I spew my cookies everywhere. Nobody wants that.