There’s a certain genre of industry writing that’s less about insight and more about personal score-settling. I’ve now been on the receiving end of it two weeks in a row.

This Saturday, someone decided that I—along with Alan Wolk and Evan Shapiro—should be named in a piece about how “influencers are ruining the industry.”

Let’s pause here. First, the idea that any one person, or even a handful of us, could ruin an entire industry that’s been staggering around for decades under its own weight is laughable.

Television didn’t get broken because Alan Wolk wrote a report or Evan Shapiro gave a lecture.

It got broken because the industry ignored change until it was too late, then scrambled to duct-tape streaming onto a business model built for rabbit-ear antennas.

And second, the comparison is absurd. I am not Alan Wolk.

I am not Evan Shapiro.

And I say that with respect, because those two are forces of nature.

Alan Wolk writes reports that make most “thought leadership” look like it was written on the back of a cocktail napkin. They’re exhaustive, detailed, and—whether you agree or not—impossible to ignore.

Evan Shapiro? He’s got the academic pedigree, the Emmy, the professorial authority. He’s a walking encyclopedia of television history with the charisma to make you actually want to listen.

Me? I quote them often because they’re smarter than me in those lanes. My role is different.

I’m not writing the phonebook-length research report or teaching the masterclass.

I’m cutting through the noise, making connections, and occasionally lobbing in some sarcasm to keep the whole thing honest.

So when someone drops us into a bucket labeled “influencers ruining the industry,” what they’re really doing is admitting they don’t understand who does what—or maybe they just wanted names that would get attention.

What made this all sting a little more is the timing. This vague broadside landed right in the middle of the holiest stretch of my year—Rosh Hashanah rolling into Yom Kippur. The time when Jews are supposed to reflect, forgive, and do some spiritual accounting.

And the irony? Just a week earlier, this same critic had emailed me asking to partner on a report. Wanted my eyes on it, wanted my time.

I didn’t respond, because during Rosh Hashanah, my focus is on my family, my faith, and the holiday—not on turning around a stranger’s project. Sorry, but my new year doesn’t sync with your PR calendar.

And here’s something that often gets lost in this industry’s obsession with hustle and hot takes: I have a life. A complicated, messy, not-always-pretty life.

I have four adult children and stepchildren. I have three more under 18, two adopted. I have medical conditions that make getting through the day sometimes feel like running a marathon on one leg. My life is not a straight line of “publish, reply, repeat.” Sometimes I can’t respond to an email. Sometimes I’m not available to rubber-stamp a report.

That doesn’t make me mean. It doesn’t make me an enemy of the industry. It makes me human.

Which brings me to the bigger question: why the meanness? Why the venom? Why do some people decide that tearing others down is their brand?

The industry is already full of turf wars, petty rivalries, and endless debates that go nowhere. Adding personal attacks into the mix isn’t just unhelpful—it’s exhausting. Maybe this guy was annoyed I didn’t respond. Maybe he’s insecure. Maybe he just wakes up every morning and decides cruelty is his content strategy.

But whatever the reason, here’s what I know: it doesn’t build anything. It doesn’t make the industry better. It doesn’t even make him look smarter. It just adds more noise to an already deafening conversation.

Here’s the part where I could clap back. Name him. Drag him. Rip the whole thing apart line by line. And honestly? It would probably get me some likes. But it’s Yom Kippur season, and forgiveness isn’t optional—it’s the assignment.

So instead, I’m offering this: be kinder, be better, be happier.

Because no one—ever—has built a meaningful career or changed an industry by writing vague subtweets disguised as thought leadership.

The industry doesn’t need more bitterness. It doesn’t need another influencer hit list. It needs people willing to build instead of bash.

So while someone out there is scribbling vague rants about me, I’ll be here juggling family, faith, health, and, yes, the business of media.

And here’s the real kicker: while he’s busy being angry, I’ll be busy living.