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About Me, The Daily Fuckcabulary & The UnFuckable Code/Manifesto
I got fired for being fabulous. Unemployment ran to $20. I took that $20, taught myself Midjourney and ChatGPT, and started fusing words with “fuck” in my son’s living room.
Then the house burned down. Mom gone. Daughter gone. All my artwork — gone. I rebuilt using my own manifesto, The Unfuckable Code, because I couldn’t stomach one more regurgitated self-help book from people who’ve never lost anything real.
The comeback? Poetic justice mixed with wine to unwind, champagne to unfuck my brain, and enough resilience to become a federal, state, and local contractor — paid for with nothing but a $40 LLC filing and a $300 diverse business certification that came back to me on the first contract.
I don’t chase contracts. They find me. I don’t do social media for money anymore — I do it because it’s fun. Because I can. Because the water’s finally running warm.
This is for you if you’re too cold right now. If you’re invisible, broke, hopeless. Trust me — there’s a way out. I turned $20 into a cultural empire, a newsletter, and soon, a digital nomad life before football season starts.
The words are funny. The story isn’t. But the flow? That’s everything.
