Ok, if I were writing on substack I would say something cantankerous about
Megan Markle Zuckerberg, Adam Mooselini and their Terrible Apps. I would
pass like crazy judgement on power users and thirst trappers and DMers and
Drake and close friends story posters and "slop" merchants and t-shirt
sellers and Spotify users and crowd work comics and hustle ex cons and
whatever. I would mourn the content basically inaccessible to the unlogged
in (hey if you want to look at this skate clip you have to hit this crack
first). I would make some rude reference to the gayass Summer of Ludd
which was a business conference for self-promoting Tompkins bands and
smell-bad tattoo scratchers advertised illegally by pasteups on street
lights around the village and how it actually has nothing to do with the
light phone or with talking to strangers.
I would say something about Hellgate and how they don't do homie links so
you can't just send a friend 1 article without ripping it because Ghost.io
is run by stupid morons. I would have a stupid picture of something I don't
care about and you'd have to click out of the subscription request substack
throws on every single post.
But I'm not writing on substack anymore. Hamish is an idiot. And Patreon is
run by the guy from Pamplemouse.
Instead, I will say that I have met several strangers this year who ask for
my Instagram and I just give it to them with
no intention of ever opening it. I think I'm gonna give out my personal
email or something instead.