Rishabh Kumar

@Rishabhkumar115

🙏 Keep moving

Joined December 2016

134 Following

48 Followers

652 Posts

Rishabhkumar115 retweeted

Logan Gott

@LoganTGott

18 days ago

If you've got a launch coming up, this is the playbook for LinkedIn and X What's inside: - How far out to lock the date, and what that extra time actually buys you (if you follow me, you already know this) - The one line the whole post lives or dies on, and how long it can be - How to pick creators, which has nothing to do with who's biggest - What to check on an account before you book anyone - The tells that mean you're about to pay for fake engagement - What goes in the brief, and the part you should never write for them - The review step most people skip, and the label nobody can skip - How to sequence launch day so the whole thing doesn't get flagged - What to do in the 24 hours after, so they say yes next time Creators posting all at once right now is getting penalized. Almost nobody has adjusted for it (please be a company that does) Let me know if you have any questions below!

LoganTGott's tweet photo. If you've got a launch coming up, this is the playbook for LinkedIn and X

What's inside:

- How far out to lock the date, and what that extra time actually buys you (if you follow me, you already know this)
- The one line the whole post lives or dies on, and how long it can be
- How to pick creators, which has nothing to do with who's biggest
- What to check on an account before you book anyone
- The tells that mean you're about to pay for fake engagement
- What goes in the brief, and the part you should never write for them
- The review step most people skip, and the label nobody can skip
- How to sequence launch day so the whole thing doesn't get flagged
- What to do in the 24 hours after, so they say yes next time

Creators posting all at once right now is getting penalized. Almost nobody has adjusted for it (please be a company that does)

Let me know if you have any questions below!

Rishabhkumar115 retweeted

Kamlesh Singh / Tau

@kkstau

about 1 year ago

Today, Volodymyr Zelenskyy picked up the phone before it buzzed. He's been waiting for this call for eternity, it seemed. The Ukrainian president, once a comic who could make a nation laugh, now carried the weight of a war-torn land in his furrowed brow. His boots scuffed the floor as he paced, the phone pressed to his ear, awaiting the voice of Donald Trump, America’s golden-haired showman, fresh from a rendezvous with Vladimir Putin in Alaska. The call was a lifeline, or perhaps a landmine. Zelenskyy braced for either. “Volodymyr! Volodymyr, my man!” Trump’s voice exploded through the speaker. “I just had the most fantastic, tremendous meeting with Vlad. We talked, we bonded. Well, I talked, he just stared. But we cracked it, Volodymyr. The whole Ukraine thing? Done. Fixed. You’re gonna love this.” Zelenskyy’s grip tightened. A breakthrough from Trump, of all people, sounded too good to be true. “Donald,” he said, “what did Putin say? About the invasion, the peace talks?” Trump’s chuckle was a low rumble. “Peace? Oh, it’s coming, bigly. Vlad’s not the monster CNN makes him out to be. Fake news, all that ‘bloodthirsty’ nonsense. He’s just a guy with simple tastes. And get this: he wants donuts. That’s it! Donuts! I told him, ‘Vlad, no big deal, we’ll send you a box from Dunkin’. Best donuts in the world, everybody says so.’ Deal done, Volodymyr. Done!” Zelenskyy’s voice wavered, caught between suspicion and disbelief. “Donuts? You mean... those round, sugary things? With holes?” “You got it!” Trump crowed, oblivious to the tension. “Holes, sprinkles, the works. I said, ‘Vlad, glazed, jelly, whatever you want.’ He didn’t smile. Russians, you know, they don’t do that. But he nodded. That’s a win, Volodymyr. A yuge win.” Zelenskyy’s pulse quickened, his comedian’s instincts sniffing something rotten in this Alaskan tale. Donuts? For a man who’d annexed Crimea, sent drones to shatter Kyiv? It was madness, like offering a tiger a laddoo and expecting it to purr. Was it code? A Kremlin ploy to smuggle bombs in pastry boxes? Or had Trump, with his fast-food diplomacy, misheard something critical? Zelenskyy leaned against the wall. “Donald,” he pressed, his tone sharp as a knife, “why would a bloodthirsty enemy like Putin demand donuts? He’s not some kid sulking for sweets. He’s... he’s a war criminal!” Trump’s laugh boomed again, undeterred. “War criminal? Come on, Volodymyr, lighten up. Maybe Vlad just likes donuts. Who doesn’t? I love them. No nuts, nuts are for losers. Maybe it’s his way of saying he’s ready to chill. Like, ‘Let’s break bread, or dough, ha!’ Send him a dozen from Dunkin’. Throw in some coffee. He’ll be eating out of your hand, not invading it.” Zelenskyy pictured it: a diplomatic convoy weaving through minefields, delivering a pink-and-orange Dunkin’ box to Moscow while tanks rolled over Donbas. Putin, with his judo-honed menace, licking glaze off his fingers as widows wept. It didn’t add up. The word ‘donuts’ echoed in his mind, wrong, out of place. What was Putin playing at? Was Trump’s brash innocence a liability or a Kremlin-scripted farce? Zelenskyy’s voice dropped, urgent now. “Donald, tell me exactly what he said. Word for word.” Trump huffed, as if explaining the obvious. “He said, ‘Donald, I want Do-nut-sk, he pronounced like Ruksies do.’ Plain as day. Donuts, right? Dunkin’ Donuts. I know business, Volodymyr. I hear a deal when it’s on the table.” The bunker air turned to ice. Zelenskyy’s breath caught, the truth detonating like a cluster bomb. Donetsk. Not donuts. Donetsk, the scarred, bleeding heart of Ukraine, where his men died in the mud. Putin’s prize, his imperialist obsession. Zelenskyy straightened, his voice iron. “Donald, it’s not donuts. It’s Donetsk. Our land, our blood. He wants Donetsk. And that’s a no. A big, fat no.” "OK, then, you continue with your stupid war. You, like Modi, don't want me to get a Nobel. But it is mine, I tell you. My own. My precious. Yes, my precious."

kkstau's tweet photo. Today, Volodymyr Zelenskyy picked up the phone before it buzzed. He's been waiting for this call for eternity, it seemed. The Ukrainian president, once a comic who could make a nation laugh, now carried the weight of a war-torn land in his furrowed brow. His boots scuffed the floor as he paced, the phone pressed to his ear, awaiting the voice of Donald Trump, America’s golden-haired showman, fresh from a rendezvous with Vladimir Putin in Alaska. The call was a lifeline, or perhaps a landmine. Zelenskyy braced for either.

“Volodymyr! Volodymyr, my man!” Trump’s voice exploded through the speaker. “I just had the most fantastic, tremendous meeting with Vlad. We talked, we bonded. Well, I talked, he just stared. But we cracked it, Volodymyr. The whole Ukraine thing? Done. Fixed. You’re gonna love this.”

Zelenskyy’s grip tightened. A breakthrough from Trump, of all people, sounded too good to be true. “Donald,” he said, “what did Putin say? About the invasion, the peace talks?”

Trump’s chuckle was a low rumble. “Peace? Oh, it’s coming, bigly. Vlad’s not the monster CNN makes him out to be. Fake news, all that ‘bloodthirsty’ nonsense. He’s just a guy with simple tastes. And get this: he wants donuts. That’s it! Donuts! I told him, ‘Vlad, no big deal, we’ll send you a box from Dunkin’. Best donuts in the world, everybody says so.’ Deal done, Volodymyr. Done!”

Zelenskyy’s voice wavered, caught between suspicion and disbelief. “Donuts? You mean... those round, sugary things? With holes?”

“You got it!” Trump crowed, oblivious to the tension. “Holes, sprinkles, the works. I said, ‘Vlad, glazed, jelly, whatever you want.’ He didn’t smile. Russians, you know, they don’t do that. But he nodded. That’s a win, Volodymyr. A yuge win.”

Zelenskyy’s pulse quickened, his comedian’s instincts sniffing something rotten in this Alaskan tale. Donuts? For a man who’d annexed Crimea, sent drones to shatter Kyiv? It was madness, like offering a tiger a laddoo and expecting it to purr. Was it code? A Kremlin ploy to smuggle bombs in pastry boxes? Or had Trump, with his fast-food diplomacy, misheard something critical? Zelenskyy leaned against the wall. “Donald,” he pressed, his tone sharp as a knife, “why would a bloodthirsty enemy like Putin demand donuts? He’s not some kid sulking for sweets. He’s... he’s a war criminal!”

Trump’s laugh boomed again, undeterred. “War criminal? Come on, Volodymyr, lighten up. Maybe Vlad just likes donuts. Who doesn’t? I love them. No nuts, nuts are for losers. Maybe it’s his way of saying he’s ready to chill. Like, ‘Let’s break bread, or dough, ha!’ Send him a dozen from Dunkin’. Throw in some coffee. He’ll be eating out of your hand, not invading it.”

Zelenskyy pictured it: a diplomatic convoy weaving through minefields, delivering a pink-and-orange Dunkin’ box to Moscow while tanks rolled over Donbas. Putin, with his judo-honed menace, licking glaze off his fingers as widows wept. It didn’t add up. The word ‘donuts’ echoed in his mind, wrong, out of place. What was Putin playing at? Was Trump’s brash innocence a liability or a Kremlin-scripted farce? Zelenskyy’s voice dropped, urgent now. “Donald, tell me exactly what he said. Word for word.”

Trump huffed, as if explaining the obvious. “He said, ‘Donald, I want Do-nut-sk, he pronounced like Ruksies do.’ Plain as day. Donuts, right? Dunkin’ Donuts. I know business, Volodymyr. I hear a deal when it’s on the table.”

The bunker air turned to ice. Zelenskyy’s breath caught, the truth detonating like a cluster bomb. Donetsk. Not donuts. Donetsk, the scarred, bleeding heart of Ukraine, where his men died in the mud. Putin’s prize, his imperialist obsession.

Zelenskyy straightened, his voice iron. “Donald, it’s not donuts. It’s Donetsk. Our land, our blood. He wants Donetsk. And that’s a no. A big, fat no.”

"OK, then, you continue with your stupid war. You, like Modi, don't want me to get a Nobel. But it is mine, I tell you. My own. My precious. Yes, my precious."

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Rishabh Kumar

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