There’s an irony happening across all of this long-form resistance writing. The more dangerous things get, the more people retreat into documentation, analysis, and processing — almost as a coping mechanism. As if explaining it carefully enough will somehow contain it. But you can’t footnote your way out of a crisis.
The urgency I feel — that slap-across-the-face energy — is actually a more honest response to what’s happening. When the house is on fire, don’t write a 3,000 word essay about the history of combustion.
And here’s the thing — what Trump posted this morning, signing a war threat with “Praise be to Allah” on Easter Sunday while threatening to destroy civilian infrastructure — that’s not analysis territory. That’s a five sentence alarm bell. It either lands or it doesn’t.
The long form has its place for the record. But right now the moment needs a bullhorn, not a dissertation. I’ve got the bullhorn.
Institutional paralysis. The long form writers process endlessly because processing feels like doing something. The anchors soften the language because their entire professional framework was built around norms that no longer apply — and they haven’t been given permission, or don’t have the courage, to throw out the rulebook.
“President Trump said some harsh words” when the man threatened to destroy the water supply of 90 million people and mocked Islam on Easter morning while negotiating war deadlines with himself — that isn’t journalism. That’s hostage language.
And the faces tell the truth their words won’t. You can see the anchors doing the math in real time. If I say what this actually is, what happens to me? To the network? To our access? So they sand the edges off until the story is unrecognizable.
The podcasters and writers are doing a different version of the same thing. If I analyze this deeply enough, thoroughly enough, maybe I can make sense of it. But some things don’t deserve sense-making. Some things deserve to be called what they are in plain language and left standing there naked.
The tragedy is that the people with the biggest platforms are the most captured by the instinct to soften. And the people willing to just say it plainly, are working with a fraction of the reach.
That gap is the real problem.
The anchors have contracts, advertisers, access agreements and career trajectories to protect. The Substack writers have subscriber counts and brand reputations to maintain. Even the big voices in the resistance have become institutions unto themselves — and institutions self-protect.
I have none of those chains.
I’m not performing for an algorithm. I’m not worried about losing a sponsor. I’m not calibrating my language to keep a seat at the table. I can just say the true thing in plain words and walk away from the keyboard.
That’s not a small thing. That’s actually what a free press was supposed to look like before it got corporatized and monetized into paralysis.
The small fish with nothing to lose and a lifetime of paying attention is sometimes exactly who cuts through when the big fish are all busy protecting their ponds.
I know you aren’t going to support me, I know you aren’t going to buy me a coffee, I know this is all on me, But the one thing you can do, and it’s free, and it just might make a difference is share my posts if they ring true to you. Spread the word because the word needs to be spread and my message is to Think For Yourself.
Why you need me!
There’s an irony happening across all of this long-form resistance writing. The more dangerous things get, the more people retreat into documentation, analysis, and processing — almost as a coping mechanism. As if explaining it carefully enough will somehow contain it. But you can’t footnote your way out of a crisis.
The urgency I feel — that slap-across-the-face energy — is actually a more honest response to what’s happening. When the house is on fire, don’t write a 3,000 word essay about the history of combustion.
And here’s the thing — what Trump posted this morning, signing a war threat with “Praise be to Allah” on Easter Sunday while threatening to destroy civilian infrastructure — that’s not analysis territory. That’s a five sentence alarm bell. It either lands or it doesn’t.
The long form has its place for the record. But right now the moment needs a bullhorn, not a dissertation. I’ve got the bullhorn.
Institutional paralysis. The long form writers process endlessly because processing feels like doing something. The anchors soften the language because their entire professional framework was built around norms that no longer apply — and they haven’t been given permission, or don’t have the courage, to throw out the rulebook.
“President Trump said some harsh words” when the man threatened to destroy the water supply of 90 million people and mocked Islam on Easter morning while negotiating war deadlines with himself — that isn’t journalism. That’s hostage language.
And the faces tell the truth their words won’t. You can see the anchors doing the math in real time. If I say what this actually is, what happens to me? To the network? To our access? So they sand the edges off until the story is unrecognizable.
The podcasters and writers are doing a different version of the same thing. If I analyze this deeply enough, thoroughly enough, maybe I can make sense of it. But some things don’t deserve sense-making. Some things deserve to be called what they are in plain language and left standing there naked.
The tragedy is that the people with the biggest platforms are the most captured by the instinct to soften. And the people willing to just say it plainly, are working with a fraction of the reach.
That gap is the real problem.
The anchors have contracts, advertisers, access agreements and career trajectories to protect. The Substack writers have subscriber counts and brand reputations to maintain. Even the big voices in the resistance have become institutions unto themselves — and institutions self-protect.
I have none of those chains.
I’m not performing for an algorithm. I’m not worried about losing a sponsor. I’m not calibrating my language to keep a seat at the table. I can just say the true thing in plain words and walk away from the keyboard.
That’s not a small thing. That’s actually what a free press was supposed to look like before it got corporatized and monetized into paralysis.
The small fish with nothing to lose and a lifetime of paying attention is sometimes exactly who cuts through when the big fish are all busy protecting their ponds.
I know you aren’t going to support me, I know you aren’t going to buy me a coffee, I know this is all on me, But the one thing you can do, and it’s free, and it just might make a difference is share my posts if they ring true to you. Spread the word because the word needs to be spread and my message is to Think For Yourself.
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