Don't get lost in the boobs. And remember that, with time, boobs all sag. That is the way of things. The way of the Force.
It occurs to me, at the beginning of this Substack adventure, that it's less about getting readers than it is about earning money—at least for those of us who don't have the luxury of having millions of fans when we first enter Substack. In a sense, then, my mission remains the same: it's not really about becoming an influencer or having an opinion that matters: it's more about gathering an audience so I can pay my bills. The size of the audience is just a side effect.
Aside: turning 56 means I've survived more than a year after last year's heart attack, which occurred earlier in August (the 10th). This is no guarantee that I'll survive much longer, but hey, it's still something. I recently watched a few Hollywood-related videos about stars from the past who died of this or that cause, and at what age. Some of these people died in their thirties and early fifties. By this point, I've outlived more than Jesus.
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