And they won’t say why

Hello, Friends.

Earlier this week, when I logged into my Medium account, I was greeted with the following banner message:


Thank-you, friends

Hello, Friends —

This morning, my little blog received its 10,000th follower.

Now seems like an opportune time to thank all my readers, old and new, for their support and interest.

It’s been a difficult journey…

I joined Medium close to three years ago, now. It was so easy, then, to connect with writers, find their posts — and earn decent dollars for one’s hard work.

That hasn’t been the case for a long time, now…

Beginning in the fall of 2019, constant algorithm and platform changes have made it all but impossible to find one’s favorite writers. …

Call them Blogrolls or Tootsie Rolls, they aren't what Medium writers have been asking for or remotely want. What we want is to be fairly compensated, as we were before the disastrous algorithm changes implemented in November of 2019 which robbed so many of us of 90-95% of our earnings. What use are bells and whistles to a dead dog? #disgusting #tonedeaf #listen

Hilariously/depressingly bizarre that a company that depends on writers — is nothing but a blank screen without them — has only ever treated writers (and editors) like pieces of 💩. Medium is like a daycare that gleefully feeds babies into a woodchipper. The company needs a new leader— pronto. #resign #sell #nonconfidence #dumpsterfire


A surprise announcement…

Hello, Friends —

This is just to let you know that my cousin Nathan and I have decided to form a musical duo called The Murder Twins.


A story for children

There once was a mustache. A tiny, oh a tiny mustache. He lived in Central Park. His mother was a mustache, and his father was a mustache.

Every day, this little mustache went to Mustache School. But the children at Mustache School (who were all mustaches, too) were awfully mean to him. Just nasty. They called him mean, nasty names like “fuzzball” and “toothbrush.” It was terrible.

“Test time, test time!” cried Miss Nordstrum, his first grade teacher, one morning, as he whiskered into school. Miss Nordstrum was a fluffy blonde mustache with dangly earrings. The tests at Mustache School…


Counterfeiters are thriving on the platform. Can it be saved?

As many of my readers know, I’ve previously reported on the widespread sale of illegal narcotics and medications on this platform.

I first reported on this crisis in February of 2020:

As I revealed a year later, the problem continues unabated:

Recently, a new, even more insidious phenomenon has come to my attention: the sale of counterfeit currency.

There are, at present and without exaggeration, thousands of accounts on this site openly engaged in the sale of funny money. Any currency you can think of is changing hands at this very instant — with Medium’s help.

Fake US dollars are…


“Are you all right?”

I stepped onto the balcony with my coffee and watched the buildings that blocked the skyline.

In the corner of my eye I saw a bird but it was Mr. Aldermaston, from 802. He was standing on the ledge between our balconies, palms pressed flat against the wall. He was breathing hard. He was wearing a bowler hat. And a beige suit.

“Are you all right?”

He breathed.

“Do you want me to call someone?”

Mr. Aldermaston shook his head.

A gush of wind blew Mr. Aldermaston’s hat off. We both watched it fall.

I looked at my watch. …


He fell among thorns…

Illustration by Rolli

He fell among thorns
then rose

‎‎‏‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎over the garden
‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎the town

As the world glowed below

he said
is better than expected

The moon’s
a cool
moscato and

the sun
a savignon

Some stars
he thought
were finer
and nebulae better
as he sampled the universe

For a connoisseur

savoring forever


Writer of books (SEA-WAVE, KABUNGO). Drawer of cartoons (Wall Street Journal, Reader’s Digest). Drinker of coffee. Buy me a ☕️

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