The sordid theme of this missive is, Why we need your money. I can think of a dozen topics more tempting. I dislike money. I spent a career chasing it. It stupefies. Time spent thinking about money is time not spent pondering grace, beauty, truth, purpose, good and evil, the governance of mankind and countless other categories of conundrum, where clarity might correct conduct. But money’s a fact of life, like mildew or mice, not to be wished away. Eventually it insists on a reckoning. Folks need to eat, bills need to be paid.
The chart above tracks the growth of our readership over the last 180 days – from less than five hundred readers to today’s twenty-three thousand. Growth continues at a pace of hundreds of fresh recruits a day. Why this Jack-and-his-beanstalk eruption is grist for future chats. I pinch myself: yes, I seem to be awake! Friends congratulate me: all those new readers – nice problem to have!
Well, yes and no.
The better we do, the more it costs. As King Pyrrhus of Epirus groaned after winning the Battle of Asculum (according to Plutarch): “If we are victorious in one more battle with the Romans, we shall be utterly ruined.”
Whence the expense?
One thing nobody’s paying for is me. It delights me to provide my words gratis. It makes me feel generous, pristine, valorous. I’m no philanthropist except with words, but of those, few lavish more. Six hundred words a day seven days a week for more than ten years, not a day missed! Voluble doesn’t mean valuable, but that little boast feeds my voracious vanity. Your attention is my sunlight. Thanks.
What costs us is scale. I have a precious partner, who works to eat. She titles and illustrates my missives – brilliantly – and wrestles with Substack, our present platform, and with the behemoth Facebook, and figures out ways to bring my words to your attention. This takes time.
Some percentage of would-be readers have difficulty engaging; some (a small, benighted lot) have difficulty disengaging. Each of their cases takes time – and time is money.
Growing in scale, one attracts attention, some of it malevolent. The Internet breeds verminous pranksters and gangsters who revel in mugging you for their enrichment. The Nameless One and his goons might swat us if we got irksome. One must take care, insure, dot i’s and cross t’s, to avoid inadvertent extinction. This takes time.
A percentage of readers want to talk, some occasionally, others more often. Bless you! Conversation is the whole idea of these sprees, a couple of pals schmoozing during their daily constitutional. Your words merit mine in response. Often you raise questions that raise questions; often, I stand corrected. I want to reply, but yikes, my inbox is flooded like the Sorcerer’s Apprentice’s workshop – nearly a hundred non-robotic emails a day. And if I do my job right, this problem will get worse. Addressing it – considerately – takes time.
The faster we grow, the faster we want to. The more readers, the more influence, the more cross-pollination, the stronger our little brigade to resist suppression by a despicable dyspeptic punk. As America moves toward tyranny, we enter a new era of samizdat. Institutions can’t protect free speech without risking their entirety. Only individuals can save freedom by exercising it.
So please, upgrade your subscription to paid. Eighty dollars a year means twenty-two cents a day or two cents a minute. Eating at a decent restaurant costs at least a buck a minute. If a subscription isn’t feasible, consider a contribution – no amount’s too small. Even a dollar chases dolors and stokes my joy. And to those who already give – my thanks, and my relief. This odd enterprise exists because of you.