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I’ll be so rich, I’ll be able to buy a staircase so I can finally reach the second story of my mansion.

Watch Out, Jeff Bezos, ‘Cuz I Just Made $8.56 In My First Month Writing On Medium

Not too long ago, I chronicled my first major Medium milestone — making $1.47 during my inaugural week writing on the eponymous platform — and am now ready to make you shit yourself with envy by relating to you, dear reader, my latest landmark achievement:

How Did I Become A Future Trillionaire With Medium?

I think it was just pure raw talent. There’s no substitute for that.

I published my virtuosic writing regularly.

I started off publishing stories twice a week, then drastically increased the frequency up to a seemingly impossible THRICE a week.

I analyzed my stats like an accountant checking the finances of a 1930s gangster.

I know there’s a stigma around Medium writers who constantly check their stats, but I disrespectfully disagree with that notion.

I planned out what I was going to write like some sort of precognitive Shakespeare.

First, I scanned Medium to see which types of articles got the most action, then tried to find come up with topics for posts that I hadn’t seen on Medium but might do well with its audience.

What Can I Buy For $8.75? Happiness Junk, That’s What

First week writing on Medium, the Dollar Tree.

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Complete with ear plugs that are the same color as your envy-puke!
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This device is ALSO the color of your envy-puke!
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This one’s the color of you envy-poo!
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Ever wondered what it felt like to have a Terminator scratch your body? This is the next best thing.
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I only purchase products that win the most prestigious of awards.

Plans For The Future

Now that I’m power walking on the path to disgusting affluence, I think it’s time to start planning what I’m going to do with all of the money I don’t yet have.

Hire some unpaid interns and pay them with recommendations they’ll have to write themselves.

Obviously, my blog will soon overtake such major global conglomerates as Amazon, Google, and the Girl Scouts of America.

Put a down payment on a mansion, a yacht, and a meth lab.

And as soon as I can afford to purchase the Earth’s atmosphere so I can hold illegal air balloon death races, I’ll have won quadruple trillionaire Yahtzee!

Create a fake LLC and open an offshore bank account in the Cayman Islands.

I don’t know much about pirate banks, but I assume they have something to do with Johnny Depp and Disney franchises that have overstayed their welcome. And even if I get caught, I hear Bernie Madoff is looking for a roommate.

Marry a gold digging supermodel and have lots of children who look nothing like me.

If my death entails being poisoned by an Amazonian goddess who’s into the whole “looks don’t matter to me, only bank accounts” thing, then I’ll consider myself lucky, frankly.

Put that box of monocles to use and live my life with the utmost disregard for people who don’t write for Medium.

Look, you’ll never join us in high society if you’re too stupid to bring a pickaxe to a goldmine (this is a metaphor, in which the pickaxe is the act of writing puerile articles and the goldmine is, for those of you non-Medium-types).

Final Thoughts

Well, there’s not much on my mind at the moment except my guaranteed future as a trillionaire playboy that women want to be with, and men ALSO want to be with.

Written by

I cover art, culture, film, comedy, creativity, books, and more at

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