BROETRY IN MOTION

I Fell in a Hole, and Couldn’t Get Out

Send help. And possibly some lube.

Say, Stubbles, better fibre might lead to better bowels? Photo by Mihai Nițu on Unsplash

There once was a little boy called Stubbles, Whose head caused him all sorts of trouble, It was oversized at birth World record breaking girth Poor kid had no shot at being humble.

His mum noticed some strange early behaviours, If she talked money he never forgave her, And when he fell from the roost He screamed GIVE ME A BOOST He said mama I was born to be a saviour.

When Stubbles left school he began blogging He said the world needs to read about my jogging, A better human he became As he coached the insane To link pyramid schemes with a sense of belonging.

As he sidled up to a CEO named Ev, He said I can do more than just computer dev, I can look at your finances Find profitable stances I con investors just as well as I do plebs.

As Stubbles ascended to the medium-sized throne, The poets and satirists inwardly groaned, This guy hated fun Specially bros who could pun And he thought free verse was a payment system to hone.

After initial mistakes with decimal places, Earnings plummeted and found homeostasis, This was not a glitch It went off without a hitch He Will Smith'd our Chris Rock writing wages.

Communities erupted with bubbling unrest, Stubbles bathed in Brut, scorn no longer repressed, Money? Writers don’t need I support self-improved greed Creative writing’s just another form of debt.

Stubbles wrestled the company back into black, Refurnished it with AI and stained horse stall mats, Investors now cheered As he whispered in their ears A better internet's more addictive than crack.

But as he gave his grand speech and tipped his hat, He encountered large intestines and visceral fat, As he sniffed self-help slop He realised with a shock His head had fallen deep in where the sun don’t shine back

But Stubbles was never one to accept defeat, He had mastered blind delusion and doublespeak, He shouted his name And the echo explained Being stuck in your poo chamber was truly elite.

While his face was now hidden from those he held dear, His plan for world domination was no less clear, Fill medium with bots Sell it for rocks And escape with the help of a back-end engineer

I realise this response is a little late to Tony’s ‘I fell in a hole and emerged three days later as your lord and saviour’ memoir piece from a while back. What can I say? I fell in a hole too, and I didn’t have a bunch of idiot investors to suck me back out.

I’m not going to weigh in on the whole Medium vs Substack debate. Nancy Santos has written an excellent article on such. (And plans to leave Medium.)

My Medium annual subscription auto renewed a couple of months back, so I guess I’ll stick around and write some more illegally paywalled broetry meta until the bots kick me out…

(Find me on Substack when they do.)

This one’s still paywalled too:

[embed]Tony, It’s Time for A Chat Where’s the money at?medium.com