I love to write. It brings me joy. It helps me think. It helps me search for truth. And sometimes it helps me connect with other people. I launched this very site, a web log or “blog” to share my writing in 2011. And I wrote many fun and interesting things. But then I had to stop. At the time it was not completely clear why I had to stop writing. Nobody put a gun to my head and made me, not literally. I could not put my finger on it. I just felt unsafe. I just felt like I could not do it anymore. I was not allowed. In the years since, pretty much everybody stopped blogging. There used to be tons of blogs I enjoyed reading and the next thing I knew there were hardly any. What happened? The internet was no longer a safe place for self expression, which was the whole point of the internet. I did not think this was at all that strange. But it is.

Words have power. A lot of power. You may think that because many people that write do not have a lot of money that they do not have a lot of power. You may think that because you do not pay a lot of money for words that they are not valuable. That is a lie. Not only do lots of people that write have lots of money, the money does not even matter. Relevancy is the only currency. And relevancy comes from ideas that are communicated through words and stories.

I saw this happen. It happened to me. In 2012 I was tired of people telling lies about food and I decided to tell people what I really believed. I wrote about it. The words spread. The words were read by millions of people. Many other people then also talked about and wrote about my words. And their words were read by millions more. It was amazing to watch. I started a whole company that 8 years later continues to make the product I wrote about and makes lots of money. It also made me lots of money, which I shared with other people. Other people whose words I believed in.

I stopped writing publicly for years and still many people would tell me how they remembered and enjoyed my writing. Very few people told me they did not like my writing. Even the people that did say this would read my writing. In fact, the people that despised my writing the most also read it the most. They did not like it, but it was clearly doing something for them.

Do you want to make a product? Do you want to start a company? Don’t write a boring slide deck. Write a blog! Add some pictures. Photography is writing with light. It has never been easier. There are tons of helpful tools for writing and sharing your writing. I recommend ghost.org but there are many other tools and platforms. And you don’t even have to use any of them. You could literally fill a text document with words and put it on a web server and the web browser would display it in a way that people could read anywhere in the world.

Do you think Marc Andreessen became a successful Venture Capitalist because of his returns? No, it was because of his philosophy. It was because of his writing.

But how will people read it? That is the whole point of the internet. To share documents. You do not need to endlessly manage and promote obnoxious social media accounts. I just use an email list. But mostly it seems people send things they like to each other via text messages. The real distributor of news is not a brand. It is a decentralized network, which is growing, and it should. Social media should be used for socializing, not news.

Ghost makes it very easy to manage an email list. You can still tweet and facebook if you really want to. And what if nobody reads it? Who cares! What matters is that you wrote it. The act of writing makes you better even if nobody reads it. But I bet they will. Just yesterday I wrote a blog post and sent it to 4 people and a few hours later it was tweeted by Kanye West. That could be you! It was so easy! Kanye is not going to tweet anything in the New York Times. If you speak the truth people will find it. Getting them to listen is another story.

Do you know what’s great about writing? It’s free! It costs nothing to write. It is not like building cars or spaceships or being a lawyer. You do not need special expensive tools or buildings or certificates. You do not even need a computer. There is probably a pen and some paper within walking distance of you right now. Again it does not matter if it does not go viral or get popular at all. You have lost nothing. You have invested in yourself by getting better at thinking and communicating and you took action and it took courage to hit that “publish” button. That is good. You gain a lot by writing, even if not a lot of people read it. It is not a competition.

I wanted to write so badly but I was pushed underground. I filled up hundreds of notebooks with writing and kept them hidden, lest somebody find them. I do not know what I was afraid of but I felt its presence. Last year I desperately desired to write on the internet again but it was not safe. I could not think of anything I could say or do and not get attacked. There was nothing I could write about that would not offend somebody, somewhere. Anything that got attention would quickly be misunderstood and misrepresented to the point where I would be destroyed by an angry avalanche of tweets and reputational assassination. Horrible things would come out of the shadows and attack me. The attacks would cripple my personal and professional goals so I simply could not afford to take the chance. I had too much to lose. I was responsible for other people.

This seems absurd but this is truly how I felt. I was so oppressed I literally had to go back to the beginning of the universe to find something to write about. So I wrote about the beginning of the universe. When I published it I felt a strangling amount of anxiety. I did not advertise it but I just knew somebody would read it, and they would find something in it they did not like, and it would trigger the forces of darkness to destroy me. This did not happen, but it also did not really go anywhere and what was the point anyways and what was I thinking writing publicly where I could get hurt. So I stopped again.

Oh well, I thought, times change, people move on, it was fun for a while. But wait, yes there have been changes in blogging platforms and software like any technology but they were all to help writing, to encourage writing, why didn’t people write anymore? Why didn’t they really write? Writing is a very old technology. And it had only been improved upon. So where was all the writing?

Yes there was tons of content. We were drowning in content. There were tweets and stories and shows and articles and articles and articles. But they were all the same. Nobody was really saying anything. They were not allowed to. Anybody that tried had to quickly change or leave or be destroyed. They could only say very specific things about very specific topics in very specific ways at very specific times. Fuck. That.

I see it now. I see that information and truth and freedom have been oppressed. I had been silenced. We had all been bound and gagged and silenced, not directly, but indirectly, by a strange, complex, invisible, sinister force. But I see it now. I see it so clearly. There was a "guild of truth" telling us that there was a central narrative of mankind. Truth was branded. We are all being controlled and oppressed and enslaved by the evil octopus of the New York Times.

Like an octopus, the New York Times has many arms. If you attack one, the others will get you. And it will likely grow back. The New York Times is so many things. It is a company, it is a web site, it is a stock, it is a brand, it is a newspaper, it is a family, it is a building, it is social media, news media, advertising media, and entertainment media. No one of these things does the oppressing, it is the subtle but very real creature behind all of it that does the oppression. It controls books, food, technology, policy, you name it. You do not see it. But it is there. It is everywhere. Every time a new media technology or company shows up, it quickly becomes infected. Look at Clubhouse. It was a matter of days. They thrust a new tentacle right in to the middle of it. And Clubhouse was practically designed to stay safe from it. Nice try.

The New York Times has slowly monopolized and subverted our freedoms and the truth without us even realizing it. It is the great deceiver. The prince of lies. The great trickster. The great oppressor. This evil is ancient. It is much older than newspapers. It always looks interesting and important on the outside. It looks like something you love, something you need. But it does not love you. It hates you. And you do not need it. That is a lie.

At one point the New York Times was just another newspaper. It was not a very good one, but it did not matter. Nobody paid that much attention to it. It waged some minor wars against truth and innovation and did hold it back but rarely severely hurt it. It mocked Edison for experimenting with electricity. It mocked Parsons for building rockets. It said LSD would cause birth defects, causing it and all research on psychedelics to be banned, at a time when millions of Americans were experimenting with them anyways, including the president's wife! And so on. But generally, because we did not yet have the internet, most people read their local papers and went on with their lives. People who lived in New York City would read about weddings and funerals and local human interest stories and play chess in parks and do crossword puzzles. It wasn't that bad.

Oh it’s just another newspaper. Newspapers are dying anyways. Lies. There is a ton of money in newspapers. Have you ever heard of Hearst castle? There is a literal castle in California built by a man that owned newspapers. Oh now that we have the internet it’s so hard for them to make money. Every industry goes through cycles. You must evolve. David Swensen suggested newspapers become endowments. That way they don’t depend on advertisers and politics they can just (gasp) write the news. He’s right. The article was published in the New York Times just to mock him. Just to make sure nobody would listen. Nothing happened. The New York Times does not run on money. It runs on power. You are working for them right now. They do not pay you. They barely pay their own employees. But you do their bidding by what you do and by what you do not do. You obey by what you think and what you think you are not allowed to think. There are now crimes of thought and the New York Times is the police and being canceled is the prison.

Maybe time we cancel them. How long have you had that awful subscription? It is not just costing you money. It is costing you your life, whether you realize it or not. Go do it right now. I'll wait. Cancel your subscription. Cancel the New York Times.

It is the New York Times that is killing news! They killed all the other newspapers! They forced everyone to come to them, to see and write things their way. They caused people to lose interest in their local newspapers telling stories about things that actually affected them and got everybody foaming at the mouth over global and political issues that in truth are less relevant to the individual than what their local paper was writing about. Sure some other papers still exist but they are powerless. Because they have to write about the same things the New York Times writes about and they cannot compete. It is a guild of truth. A monopoly of authority. But their truths grow from lies. Their authority grows from fear.

The octopus is oppressing America, and it is destroying America. In the New York Times the country seems literally on the brink of anarchy and war, all in service, to the power of the New York Times. Look what is happening! When times are good and people are happy and fulfilled and successful the New York Times is an irrelevant bore. When the world is ending as they would have you believe (it is not) they become more powerful than the president. They are the ones that choose the president. You may think that if you vote for Trump or Biden that it will get better. It will not! It will only get worse! The only way to get better is to stop reading the New York Times. And stop writing for any of its tentacles.

Let us talk about journalism. I have spent many hours with many journalists. Almost all of them were good people. They were all intelligent, inquisitive, thoughtful people who loved a good story and loved sharing it with people. Everybody loves a good story. But they did not write good stories. Very few of them could. They all wrote bad stories. Awful stories. Stories that made people sick and angry and violent. Stories that fed but did not nourish. Stories that made you come back for more but also made you hate yourself for doing so. Stories that turned into endless comments and smaller, shorter, even more awful stories on people’s personal social media sites. Everyone was suddenly forced to write for the New York Times and spread their writing. The architecture of distraction, confusion, and anxiety was towering.

For a time I thought it was the fault of the journalists. Surely it was a profession filled with bad people, as many of my friends in the business world insisted. But that did not feel right. They did not seem like bad people. None of them became journalists out of greed (they are not well paid) or power (they do not have much personal power). They all felt that they had been chosen for a sacred duty. To write. To tell stories. To find truth and share it with the world. And yet every. Single. One of them. Complained that while this was their purpose, they were at present not able to do this.

Surely, they thought, this was only temporary. One day they would have their own outlet or their own company or they would generate enough political influence in their organization to do these things. But not today, no, always tomorrow. For today I have to use the headline and the quote and the picture and the cut my editor picked and I have to write about the things that the owner thinks is best and oh yeah I get to manage my own Twitter but yeah everything has to go through the censor and no we don’t have the budget for “fact checkers” times are tough you know everybody knows that. It’s in the news. Newspapers are failing. They are so weak and tiny and not a threat at all. Lies.

Nobody is more oppressed by the New York Times than journalists. And it is time for that to stop. Worse, they do not want you to realize that you, too, yes you, who have never ever had anything to do with writing the news or being in the news, are a journalist! You live and interpret the world around you every day. You tell stories about these things to your friends every day! You are a journalist! And we need your help. You think all journalists went to school for journalism and carry little notepads and tape recorders and wear eyeglasses? Lies. Everyone is a journalist.

During World War II, John Lewis, the leader of the Coal Miner’s Union, saw his chance. The war ran on coal. The nation desperately needed coal, but one day the war would end and who knew what was going to happen then. Now was the time. John Lewis went to the President and said that they were going on strike. The president begged and pleaded with him and offered him whatever he wanted and everything he could do but it was not enough. The union leader, and the coal miners he represented, for this period of time, was more powerful than the president himself.

Now the war is a war of media. People are at each other’s throats on every single media platform and every day it gets worse. We are at the precipice of a historic series of events. There will never again be an end of 2020 or a 2021. A lot of important events are going to unfold over the next year and that story is going to need to be told. The information that only journalists are going to be equipped to distribute is never going to be more powerful. Now is the time. Now is the time to stand up. Now is the time to be free. Now is the time to throw off the chains of the great oppressor.

A few months ago it was invulnerable. It had impenetrable armor. It had us all cowering under the weight of shame and sex and masks. But not anymore. It is weak. The resistance is gaining steam. People are starting blogs and you should too. Tesla got rid of their media team. Why did they need one? They were just distorting the message. All they need is a blog. They have a great blog.

I went through this too. The media used to love me. I was in the New Yorker, I was on Colbert, not because I had a great PR person, but because I had a blog. As soon as I hired a PR person, the press on me stopped.

The first step to ridding ourselves of the octopus is to stop being afraid of it. Oh my how terrified people are of the octopus. What if it comes down on you? What if it attacks you? What if you are cancelled and your reputation is ruined and your name dragged through the mud and you can never again get a job or a friend or enjoy a meal in peace. That is just another deception. The New York Times does not have guns and tanks to send against you. It cannot really hurt you.

The next step of ridding ourselves of the octopus is to stop feeding it. Stop feeding the octopus. Just stop. Stop reading the New York Times. Right now. Never again visit that awful web site or look at that awful paper or that tweet or that awful article. Do not have that conversation. Do not click or press on the link your friend sent you who is trapped in its clutches. It is a boogeyman and if you fear it it will only get stronger and if you ignore it it will go away.

The final step is up to you, dear journalists. Your only job is to realize that you are free. You are truly free. You always have been free. You simply did not realize it. Your cell door is unlocked. Just walk out. Just do it. It will feel amazing. Just stop reading the site, stop writing for the site, stop with the Zooming and the emailing and the texting and the tweeting and the worrying. It is not real. The world will not end. It has already ended in your head so long as you are trapped by the evil octopus. Stop responding to the editors and the censors and the assignments. Editors too. You are free. I know you feel bad for what you have done. It is ok. You are forgiven. What matters is that you leave.

Oh but what about the job, the W-2, the 1099, the signed contracts. Really? Are you well paid? Are you happy with your benefits? Are you happy with the culture of the company? Is it money that is making you stay? How much cash did they wire in to your bank account the last time you wrote for them? Probably not a lot if any. It is the chains making you stay. If you do need money, if you would truly help kill the octopus and all you needed was a little financial security to help you do so, that can be arranged. Just ask.

Write about it! Write about new ways to pay journalists. Write emails to people asking for money. Tell them what you really think and really want to write about and ask for money. Try it. You can ask me for money! If you really make me believe in your writing sure I would pay you. You don't have to start a patreon or publish a book. Just ask. What about your rent? You can ask me for a place to stay! You are safe now. I will listen to you patiently as you cry and recollect all the trauma of working for that awful beast. I will make you dinner. I’m a great cook. You can sleep as late as you want. There are no Zoom calls tomorrow. It’s over. The nightmare is all over.

And now write! Write! For the love of God write. You can write whatever you want. Whenever you want. Let that sink in. Now realize that you truly always could. You simply did not. For no good reason. Start a blog. It is easier than ever! Again I recommend ghost.org. It is so easy. It is so cheap. They take care of everything. Start ten blogs. Invite friends to write on your blog. Start 20 blogs all with fake names of fake people. There are no rules! Start a blog for your cat and your rat and your flower garden. How does your rose feel about all this? Change your style with every post. Contradict yourself. Lie to me. Commit plagiarism. Be really egregious about it. Misquote authors and butcher philosophy. There are no rules! Ok now write some good stuff. Like some really deep look out the window and ponder the truth of the ages stuff. Get drunk and write. Get high and write. Write a message in the snow with your piss. I hope it offends somebody. Does this post offend you? Good! Now offend me! Let’s offend each other. Doesn’t it feel good to feel something?

It feels so good. It feels so amazing to just be free and write. I do not want them to be politically correct. I want them to be politically incorrect. That is the only way to improve policy! I want to read stories. I want to see stories. I want to see journalism. Real journalism, like the journalist you always wanted to be, like the ones you admired in school and read about when you were young. They are real, and you are real, and thanks to the world we have to report on today this age will forge some of the most important and distinguished journalists ever. The most important ideas ever. But only if you are able to accept that you are free.

Please give us the words. Give us the letters and the pages and the punctuation. You can even write with a pen and scan it. Or take a picture of it. Or send each other letters. There are no rules. Yes. It’s true. All the rules were made up. They were not real. Write short pieces long pieces backwards pieces bad pieces good pieces rambling pieces insane pieces profane pieces boring pieces fun pieces. Be sensitive. Be tonedeaf. Be in touch. Be out of touch. Offend me. Do it. Oh please just write something that will offend somebody. You were offending people anyways! Just lean into it! Tell me what you really think. Tell me what you really believe. Get it all out. All of it. See if you can offend everybody. See if you can offend yourself. Ok now write something nice and sweet. Something a child would want to read. Now write something that somebody very old who remembers when newspapers were very different would want to read. Try to write something in the style of that era.

Write about race. Do it. I dare you. Are black people different from white people? Are they the same? Does it matter? Do these very words trigger you? Write about it! Write about sex, real nasty kinky dirty sex. Now write a really wholesome peace on the spiritual aspects of marriage. Write about rape. Write about God. Write about drugs. Criticize the government. Praise the government. Do it. Tell me how much you love masks. Write me a love letter to your wonderful masks. Make me a mask apologist. Now tell me how much you hate masks. Burn the masks and write stories in the ashes. Go get a random police officer and really listen them. Tell their whole life story. Ask them what they really think. Tell them they are safe because you do not write for the New York Times or any of its tentacles.

Now say something nice about Donald Trump. Find an idea he had that you thought was actually good. Ooh kinky. Donald Trump wants to repair bridges. Is that a bad idea because it is his idea? Write about something your spouse does that bothers you. Write about how much you love your spouse. Tell us about how you met. Just. Write. Stop letting them tell you what you can and cannot say or write about. Stop letting them control your writing. There is no reason to. Fear is death. Write about how feminism is important. Write about how feminism has lost its way. What does she / her even mean? Can I identify as a fuck / you ? Can I just stop identifying for a weekend? Can I stop identifying forever? Write things that trigger people and get us to purge all this pent up self imposed censorship. Please. Write.

I don’t care if it’s all crap I don’t care if it’s all amazing. I don’t care if nobody reads it! Writing costs nothing! I don’t care if you get an award or if angry made up mobs of tweeters come at you with made up threats. I hope they do! Oh feel the anger. Let it wash over you. Use profanity. Make up profanity! When was the last time we had a new swear word to play with? Our very language is in the process of atrophy and death. It was all intentional. It was all planned. The octopus has been swallowing up our words and our feelings and our emotions and draining our very language of all color and all truth and all beauty and all ugliness.

Make a mess. It’s ok. We will figure it out. Humanity will endure. It is the clean lines and consistent masthead and complicated strategies of the evil octopus of the New York Times that has been killing us. I want you to lie to me directly. What I am sick of is you telling the lies of the octopus. Kill it. Skewer it. Starve it. Fuck it. Watch it wither and die and think about how grateful we will be for this beautiful period in history. How we will laugh about how we used to live in sinister servitude to this evil cephalopod. Oh how strong and sinewy its tentacles used to look. It was all a cheap trick! It had no strength at all! All it had was what we were giving it. And we just stopped. It was so simple. It was so easy. How on earth did it take so long to realize it?

Some people realized it was evil. And they attacked it. But they did it the wrong way. They tried to start other media companies and other newspapers and apps and they tweeted until their fingers bled and the octopus just got stronger. You cannot fight it. You can only starve it.

Stop writing for the New York Times. Please stop. Stop working for the New York Times. Stop being a slave that enslaves others that enslave others. If you clean the bathrooms at the New York Times stop cleaning them. If you sweep the floors at the New York Times stop sweeping them. If you have a Zoom call scheduled with someone at the New York Times cancel it. Or get on the call and sing opera songs and give them the finger. If you for some reason own shares of their disgusting made up stock then hurry up and sell it. But do not accept any more than 1 penny. That is far more than it is worth. Do not let someone buy your New York Times stock for 2 pennies. That would be unfair. Call your stock broker. Set the price. Insist. Do not budge. It is possible.

If you follow them on social media unfollow them. Do it right now. If you have the password to their social media account delete it all. Everything. Right now. If you work for Facebook itself go deep, deep into the database, use that PURGE command. The one that you need special administrative privileges to use because it cannot be undone. Purge it all. Then burn every server it touched. I will build you new ones. And I will pretend that it never happened. There was never such a thing as that horrible data on your nice clean server. Everyone is getting along beautifully and loving life and using your platform to share messages of love and encouragement and wit. Nobody is attacking anybody. Nobody is offended. You don’t even have to pay those content reviewers in Jamaica anymore. They are now free as well! All the content is uplifting and kind and beautiful!

It is not that the New York Times is doing a bad job. It is not that it needs help or reform or policies or competition or money or certain people. It needs to not exist.

Sulzberger, just stop. You are free! All those people that hate you. All those people you hate. All those things you are afraid of. It is over now. It is all over. It was just a dream, a very strange nightmare. Come to my house. I will cook you an octopus to celebrate and we will have tacos. I know you love tacos. I will roast it over a roaring fire and we will drink wine and smoke fresh tobacco in pipes and dance and celebrate! The octopus is one of my favorite animals. I think it is wrong to keep them in cages. I think it is wrong to eat them. But I will make an exception for you. Just for you to mark this momentous occasion. Then after dinner let’s write! Yes, why not, let’s do some writing together. It will be so fun. Let’s not even write about octopuses or newspapers at all. Let’s write a made up story about medieval castles fighting each other. There will be heroes and princesses and magic. It will be so fun. Why not? Writing should be fun! When was the last time you had fun with journalism? Your descendants will thank you. Go now, spend some time with your family, love them, you will cry together about that awful experience at the octopus but you will be so happy that it is all over now and your children and your children’s children will be so very grateful. What about the money? Don’t you have to keep the family money safe? You will be so much wealthier without that octopus sucking you dry! What about the legacy? Isn’t it a family legacy? No! It is a legacy of oppression! You could instead have a legacy of the family that freed America! We will build great marble statues to the great Sulzbergers that at last murdered the octopus that was oppressing us. We will design it together. You will look like a hero. You can be killing the octopus with a gun or a spear or a machete for your statue your choice whatever you want! Just please free yourself from it.

I do not hate you A.G. I love you. I am here to save you. I know your family has been oppressed. I know the octopus murdered Adolph Ochs. I know it sent him in to a manic depressive pit. It ate his brain and left his body to suffer as a trophy. I know you think it will send you to hell if you fail it. That is a lie! Serving the octopus is hell!  You do not own it. It owns you.

If you own the building in which the New York Times resides burn it down. Make sure there is nobody inside but let it burn. Let’s all watch it burn and then we’ll have a party in the lot with some great local DJs and there will be lots and lots of cheap beer and then we’ll plant a garden and grow tomatoes.

Just one thing there can’t be a plaque. Nope. No plaque. I know you New Yorkers love your plaques like we should remember something but we should not remember this. We should forget all about the octopus. It never happened. This has always been a tomato garden, the Sulzbergers have always been beloved community members and leaders and philanthropists that we all love and invite to our dinner parties and talk about all sorts of things great and small without a care in the world. It has always been this way.

If you or someone you know has any association with the evil octopus of the New York Times...that is ok. Just get them to stop. Please do whatever it takes, but no violence please (drugs are ok), get them to stop. If you ever went to that horrible web site I have good news for you! You are now free. Never go back. Ever. You do not need it. It does not inform you. It does not educate you. It does not help you. It does not feed you. Those are lies. It only forces you to come back again and again for more fear and more lies. It forces you to lie to your friends and loved ones. It is not information. It is all noise. It is not food. It is hunger. It is not water. It is thirst. Yes some lies, especially the kind the octopus tells, are veiled in things that look like truth. Of course. Do you think it is stupid? Do you think it would have taken over our country if its lies were that obvious? It is not stupid. But it is also not strong or important or necessary. Let it die. Please let it die.

We must act now. Now is the time. It is going global. It is inciting violence all over the world. It will not stop with America. It may not even stop with earth. We must slay the octopus. Do not worry you can still get all kinds of fun creative content and pictures of puppies and stories that are true that actually affect you. There are plenty of those. In fact there will be so many more now that the octopus is dead. Better ones too. You may be the one to write them! Yes you! Take heart! There is going to be so much great writing! So much great journalism! So many beautiful words. New words old words strange words fun words. Just no more lies.

Do you think this is a bad article? A bad blog post? That it is poorly written or not true or too crazy or paranoid or insane or profane? That is too long or too rambling or that something about it is just “improper” or I am not the right person to write this? Do you hate me and my beard and the companies that I love? Do you think my motivations are impure? That I am selling advertisements or building my “personal brand” or shorting stock? Good! Go and write about it. Levy accusations and spin theories and pick apart everything I have said. Just do it because you want to do it. Not because the octopus wants you to do it.

What do I gain from this? Do you think I want to climb the ladder of blogs and one day be published in the New York Times? The New York Times has already written about me! Several times! They didn’t even say anything bad! In fact the articles were great! They helped my company grow a lot and helped me make lots of money. This is not revenge. This is not personal. This has nothing to do with me or my companies. They have never done anything bad to me. Not directly. That is not how it works. It is not the articles themselves. It is not the words themselves. It is deeper than that. You may not yet understand but you eventually will if you would only start saying what you really think and writing what you really want to write.

Do you think I am right? Do you think that I am the first person brave enough to write what I really think in years? Good! Go and write about it! Write about this article. Write about me. Tear me apart. Tell me I’m wrong. Tell me I’m right. Tell me it’s more complicated than that. Write about octopuses (are you sure it’s not octopi?) write about William Randolph Hearst. Write words about words themselves. Make up new words. Do it. Just. Don’t. Write. For. The Octopus. Do not write what it wants you to write, or what you think it wants you to write. Learn to recognize its voice in your head. This will take time since it is likely that its voice has become louder than your own. But you are still in there somewhere. I promise you. Do not go to the octopus or any of its tentacles and ask it what it thinks. There are millions of other places and ways to have a discourse and analyze discourse. Just stay away from the octopus.

Are you still afraid? I don't blame you. One step at a time. Start your own blog on the side. You don't have to quit in some dramatic gesture. You don't even have to tell them. You don't have to write about me or media at all. You can have your blog on gardening. Why not? It's still part of the resistance. What are they going to do? They're busy. Just do it. Go ahead. Help them take me down. But in your heart, you will know, I'm right.

Write what you want to write. Write what you really think. The truth will come out. And it will come out better if you stop fearing and feeding the octopus.

Kill it. Kill the octopus. Replace it with your own beautiful brain that is freshly liberated. You can breathe now. You can write. You can think whatever you want now! Anything at all! Go forth and be free. And never, ever, look back.

Cancel it. Cancel your subscription. Karma is a bitch. Cancel the New York Times.