The Inner Monologue

I have a small favor to ask.

If you have ever read one of my posts and thought, “Huh. That wasn’t a complete waste of four minutes,” please share it.

That’s it. That’s the entire sophisticated marketing strategy.

I currently make absolutely nothing from these posts. No advertising empire. No lucrative sponsorship deal. No yacht anchored off Monaco. No mysterious billionaire benefactor paying me to explain why microwaves are basically Easy-Bake Ovens for grown-ups.

Nothing.

And apparently, you are my only reader.

I love you. I really do. You’ve been wonderful. But this relationship is becoming a little codependent, and I need to see other readers.

Mostly because I crave constant validation.

Not a healthy amount of validation, either. I want ridiculous amounts of it. I want to look at the statistics and briefly believe I am important.

So, if you think anyone you know might be even mildly amused by the bullshit I write, send them a link.

Repost it.

Share it.

Email it.

Text it to somebody while you’re sitting on the toilet.

Send it to your retired coworker who has opinions about everything.

Forward it to your cousin who reads things on Facebook and immediately calls three people.

Send it to your weird conspiracy uncle. You know the one. He has six flashlights, 400 pounds of rice, and some very interesting information about the Federal Reserve. He probably won’t agree with me, but page views are page views.

Post it in the family group chat and then refuse to explain yourself.

Print it out and leave it in a dentist’s waiting room. I don’t care.

If one of my posts makes you laugh, think, argue with yourself, learn something, question something, or mutter, “What the hell is he talking about now?” there is probably another human being somewhere who would enjoy the same experience.

Go find that person.

Because this little corner of the Internet grows almost entirely by word of mouth. There is no marketing department. There is no social-media team. There is just me, sitting here thinking about things nobody asked me to think about and then publishing the results.

Frankly, it’s an inefficient business model.

You can help.

Share the crap.

Share the good stuff, too, assuming I accidentally write some.

Tell your friends. Tell your enemies. Tell people you barely know. Repost something with the comment, “I don’t know if this guy is brilliant or needs a hobby.”

Both are acceptable endorsements.

And if they like it, tell them to share it with someone else.

This is how movements begin.

Granted, most movements have loftier objectives than increasing my page views and feeding my pathological need for validation, but we all have to start somewhere.

So please:

Read. Laugh. Think. Share. Repeat.

Together, we can make absolutely no money while reaching a much larger audience.

And isn’t that what the Internet was invented for?