Story Four

That time I did what I said I would.

When I was first negotiating with substack I told them, jokingly, that one day I’d just write “fuck substack” repeatedly. I meant it as a sort of test, because who just contractually requires anyone to post twice in a calendar week with no editorial oversight?!?

I thought this would be a joke I just held in my pocket because honestly I have hundreds of thousands of words I could publish here. And then I, for various and TOTALLY LEGITIMATE reasons locked myself out of all my writings.

Probably by next Wednesday I’ll be able to get into my laptop but for now:

Here is my second post this week that I’m contractually obligated to. I actually wrote six weeks of posts but somehow saved them to my computer instead of the cloud.

ergo:

Fuck substack

Fuck substack

Fuck DeSantis particularly.

Fuck substack

I appreciate you coming with me on this, and I will do my best to never save any files to a single machine again, and actually I love substack. They’ve been amazing. It’s just that I said, before I signed anything, that there would be a time or two I didn’t have ready copy.

I honestly had an amazing essay ready to go but couldn’t double check my sources so that’ll be next week: three half-blind people go to a bar. I appreciate your indulgence as I get used to the new deadlines.

For what it’s worth, there’s a lot of tearful Nazis this week, which should at least make your day better? Of all the things I could imagine, “dueling crying Nazis” was not on my bingo card