If Inflation Is Real, Why Aren't My Nudes Selling for More?
I've been bending over backwards (literally) trying to get some high-quality tasteful smut out on this wonderful gift from Al Gore, and despite spending $700 on a brand-new Nikon Coolpix, unfortunately, thus far, the only subscriber to my Nude Newsletter Ludeowitz is your mom... and my mom. (She's as supportive as the over-the-shoulder banana hammock I wore in my latest centerfold.)
It's super easy to subscribe. I accept Bitcoin, Ethereum, Dogecoin, and Fiat "money." I saved on startup costs by wearing clothes I inherited from my recently deceased grandfather (thanks for a really awkward estate meeting, grandpa Lebowitz).
I have shaved myself completely bald from head to toe because I heard body hair was a turn-off in pornography ever since the 70s. I have been the pool boy, the pizza delivery boy, the handyman, all six members of the Village People, yet I cannot get anyone to subscribe for longer than the three-month free trial.
And for some reason, despite no one subscribing, my nudes still got leaked to my employer, so I guess this is a full-time job now.
On the bright side, I now get to put my yoga and Pilates classes on my company business card as tax-deductible expenses.
Despite the prices of eggs shooting through the roof (you don't want to know what I do with those eggs), I've had to take my yearly subscription down from 20, to 10, to 60 cents with a 40-cent rebate. Man, this economy is brutal.
Nevertheless, I have heard of many people making lots of money in this industry, so I will not be giving up anytime soon. However, like the rest of America's backbone (farmers, truckers, factory workers), the coming AI revolution terrifies me. I'm now rooting for the neo-luddites because at the very worst, if they win, I can send my nudes out from a printing press or get my cousin to do some of that nude painting she does. (She's an artist.) (She's the one whose closet I was digging through in a previous article.)