Hannah and Papa J

Hannah and Papa J

Friday, January 18, 2019

A letter to what's left of my readers

To my dear readers,

The internet has given and the internet has taken away. At this point I'm supposed to give a blessing, but God isn't running the internet and I can't find it in myself to do it.  Used to having around 300 views per essay, Facebook and Twitter are now giving me around 30.  This means I've been effectively shut out, and my late foray into Gab.com, which is supposed to be the internet's Argentina to everyone accused of being a Nazi, got me more hookers as followers than actual fans.  And I am not a fan of hookers.  Neither am I a fan of Nazis. I'm not interested in or rich enough for the first and not white or stupid enough for the second.

What the ban led me to realize is that my writing isn't over.  But it has started over.  I am effectively, in terms of a fan base, a new entrance on the scene -- and those of you who are with me are my first fans.  You're really all I have: more will come, but you're what kept me going.  So thank you for reading me, writing me, and most of all sharing me -- something which I believe most people are afraid to do.  I've been too honest in too many unpopular ways.  I consider this a strength, although it's finally come to bite me.

From now on social media can no longer be relied upon, so I'm starting an email subscription -- something great writers have been advising everyone for decades, and which I'm only following now because I'm a moron.  Gmail will be used for my personal essays: not for asking for money, or personal updates, or political memes, or jokes.  Everyone on this list will be mailed discreetly -- your email address will not be shown to everyone else.  

Email me at letterssubscription@gmail.com to keep up to date with these essays.  I suspect they'll continue for quite some time, as I can't seem to keep my mouth shut.  If you don't think you want the emails because you're still seeing me on Facebook, then good for you -- for now.  It's what everybody else thought too, and now, to them, I might as well not exist.

Yours truly, in Facebook and off it,


  1. I am with you whereever you go. Keep in touch. Hope I am alive when you have hit life's sweet spot.

  2. I'm still here. Have been for some number of years.

  3. Have visited you once a month for years now. Always come away perturbed, enlightened, joyed, piqued, and curious about your inspiration. I hope my own writings do the same. Keep up the work my dear friend. And for the record, I have forwarded posts of yours to friends, and they have agreed with my assessment of your power an effect as a writer. Stay the course. Stay the course. You are still a young man.

  4. I have enjoyed your insightful viewpoints for years. I pass your articles to friends often. Assuming your readers agree or at least pause for contemplation, have you thought about encouraging them to forward the article to 10 of their friends to expand your sphere of influence?