Business is like a private Jet full of hookers

Happy Wednesday mf

Let’s cut the shit.

Wanna know the truth about the copywriting game?

It’s messier than a private jet full of hookers, cocaine, and delusion…

Flying straight through a hurricane with no fucking pilot.

One week, you feel untouchable.

Like the king of this shit.

Next week?

You’re on your knees wondering if you were ever legit in the first place.

Your dopamine’s gone.

Your income drops.

Your audience ghosts you.

Your client disappears without a single fick given.

And your brain starts whispering poison:

“Maybe I peaked.”

“Maybe I fucked it.”

“Maybe I should quit. Or pivot. Or start again.”

No.

That’s the trap.

That’s the voice that ruins people with talent.

The storm IS THE fucking test.

And 90% fail it.

Not because they suck.

But because they can’t shut the fuck up and sit still when shit gets loud.

A hooker licks their ear and they forget what altitude they’re flying at.

One bad week and they start burning their own shit to the ground.

They confuse panic with progress.

They chase shiny fucking distractions because holding the line feels like doing nothing.

But it’s everything.

I’ve seen it over and over.

The TikTok genius who went viral, then vanished.

The “six-figure coach” who crumbled the second their Stripe notifications slowed.

The fake gurus who talk about the grind but couldn’t outlast a dip.

All bark. No fucking backbone.

You don’t need another funnel.

You don’t need a motivational wank.

You need discipline.

Stillness.

Stoic fucking pressure.

The kind of pressure that builds diamonds or breaks weak men.

Stick to your system.

Write your shit.

Shut up and deliver.

Let the work speak when the noise fades.

“But what if I’m stuck?”

“What if it’s not working?”

You’re not stuck.

You’re just at the part where most people piss themselves and run.

Hold.

The.

Fucking.

Line.

Get after it.

Tom Stoic

P.S. Copy Academy «