The Inner Monologue

Oh, dear reader, you’ve stumbled upon my little secret. You’ve read my posts, nodded along (or angrily fist-shaken at your screen), and walked away thinking, Ah yes, this is who they are—this is what they believe.

Spoiler alert: You have no idea.

I’ve been playing you. Or, more accurately, playing with you. Because half the time—maybe more, maybe less, who’s counting?—I’m arguing the exact opposite of what I actually think. Why? Because it’s fun. Because it makes you mad. Because nothing sharpens the mind like defending a position you don’t hold while a chorus of internet strangers tells you you’re wrong.

Wait, So You’re Just a Troll?

No, you delightful, outraged simpleton. A troll wants the chaos. I want the thinking. There’s a difference.

If you only ever argue for what you believe, you’re just rehearsing a script. But if you can step into another viewpoint—even (especially) one that makes your skin crawl—you might just learn something. Or at least get really good at rhetorical judo.

But Why Invite the Hate?

Because nothing tests an idea like throwing it into the gladiator pit of public opinion. If my devil’s advocacy holds up? Great! Maybe there’s merit there. If it gets torn to shreds? Even better—now I know where the weak spots are.

And let’s be honest: Watching someone angrily type “BUT LAST WEEK YOU SAID—” is just chef’s kiss.

So Do You Believe Anything?

Maybe. Maybe not. The point isn’t what I believe—it’s that belief itself should be flexible enough to survive a good shake. If you can’t argue the other side, you don’t understand your own.

So next time you read something of mine that makes you want to throw your laptop into the sun, ask yourself: Is this real, or is this performance art?

And then—argue back anyway. That’s the whole point.