Jerry Cosper

Dear Dom Lucre, I hope this letter finds you in the middle of another “BREAKING” post you're making up. You remind me of that greasy late-night TV psychic who promised to predict your future for $19.99 but only ever predicted you’d keep getting poorer while he got richer. Everything with you is “BREAKING,” isn’t it? BREAKING: Dom Lucre just reposted a screenshot he found in his spam folder. BREAKING: Dom Lucre’s ego needs another $50 to stay inflated for the next twelve hours. BREAKING: Dom Lucre just stole a small account's content, removed the watermark and posted it as his own. BREAKING: Dom Lucre is still pretending he’s not the digital version of the guy selling fake Rolexes out of a trench coat in Times Square. You remind me of a low-rent Andrew Tate who couldn’t afford the Bugatti so he settled for a 2009 Honda Civic with a “TRUST ME BRO” vanity plate. The cockiness is Olympic-level, Dom. I contacted you awhile back to see if you would read my book and review it and you got back to me asking for $6000 to repost MY post about my book. You strut around X like you personally cracked the JFK files when the only thing you’ve ever cracked is the bank accounts of lonely boomers who think your “BREAKING” posts are actual journalism. Newsflash, champ: real journalists don’t have tiered pricing for reposts. You’re not a reporter, you’re a digital street hustler. Who the hell do you think you are, offering Bronze, Silver, Gold, and “Platinum Insider” tiers like we’re buying into a hedge fund instead of your recycled conspiracy salad? Brother, I’ve seen better business models from Nigerian princes who at least had the decency to pretend they were dying of something exotic. You walk around like you’re Elon Musk’s slightly less successful cousin. Your cockiness would be impressive if it wasn’t for the fact that without the grift you’d be back to selling timeshares or whatever sad hustle you were doing before you discovered the “BREAKING” goldmine. You look like the physical manifestation of every “act now, limited time offer” banner ad that’s ever ruined someone’s day. Oh holy shit man, you just compared yourself to Jesus, bro. You parade around like you’re above it all while your business model is literally “pay me or I won’t click the little arrow next to your tweet.” That’s not influence, Dom. That’s digital panhandling. I am done with Dom Lucre. Oh yeah, for those that don't know "Lucre" means money. Even your fake ass name is a grift. You’re not breaking news, you’re breaking every rule of basic human decency and somehow making a living doing it. Congratulations, I guess. Just know that every time you type “BREAKING,” somewhere a real journalist dies a little inside and a PayPal notification makes you feel like a big man for about six seconds. In freedom, Mr. Star-Spangled MAGA

Eric Swalwell today