So Punk

Writing is dead, and so is reading.

Let’s face it — if you’re here reading this, you have two problems. One, this will not be compelling reading. Two, you’re getting it from a man who sat down with a can of Coke Zero, closed his eyes, begged his brain for anything to write about — because I made a commitment to myself to write — and got back three words: writing… is… dead.

And here I am, frowning down at paper books and forcing myself to write, while 90-plus percent of the Western world turns its back on both and devours the algo instead. Short-form content, the shorter the better. Like the drug addicts of the old ports, getting their brains lobotomized by the dumbest shit the feed can shove down their throats. And it’s fantastic. Our society, for once, is doing something collectively. It doesn’t discriminate by age or gender. These days, I watch boomers abandon FOX and CNN to scroll X and “Truth Social” as their favorite pastime.

The phone. The feed. Plugged in, backs turned on the three-dimensional world we actually live in. It’s not even fun anymore — what’s fun about it? We have trained our brains to hold the attention span of a gerbil, and we don’t hide it: restaurants, school drop-offs and pickups, the middle of meetings and conversations. No shame. At least back in the day, hardcore drug addicts had the common sense to hide in the shadows before cooking their crack. Not now, baby. Not in 2026.

So back to reading and writing. I thought about compiling the statistics to show that reading and writing are in decline — to make this post look more professional than the amalgamation of thoughts it is. You know what? Fuck it. No need. Step outside and look around… I have hopes for my children’s generation as they grow up watching how dumb this all is. Personally, The Matrix will be mandatory viewing in our household; I’m classifying the film as an art classic for telling of humanity’s stupid collapse, bending the knee to its own tech.

So why did I opt for sitting with letters instead of the feed? Because there’s a small subset of the population smart enough to see it: with the bar this low, the only thing you need to do to succeed is preserve your mastery of focus and attention. And nothing builds focus like reading and writing. Those of us nerds who still read letters that, put together, form words — we’re the new rebels. The new underdogs. The underground pirates. We are, dare I say it, the fucking resistance.

We don’t deny technology. We just know who’s in control. Tech is our bitch, not the other way around. We set boundaries for ourselves and our families while everyone else is insufferable in public — phones out, attention gone, frankly rude. Ever sat at a restaurant table with your phone down while everyone else at it is on theirs? You know what I’m talking about. We stay classy. We refuse to be swallowed by the algo. So we read, and we write.

As for me, I don’t care who reads what I write. No fucks given. So much so that I made a conscious decision to use profanity as needed and as I like — because of the First Amendment, and because… well, why not? Somebody should express outrage at what we’re doing collectively: getting dumber by the minute. Nobody wants to think for themselves anymore. Innovation and independent thinking are the rarity, not the standard. Compare present-day America to any decade before the early 2000s. That, in my mind, was being American: no fucks given and a “cowboy the fuck up” culture — thank you, Bruce Willis, for those fine words in Tears of the Sun. Whatever happened to that? Don’t tell me we’ve “evolved,” that we’re “more refined” — because if refinement means turning ourselves soft, scared, and incapable of a hard thought, then I want to be as unrefined as possible.

Back to reading and writing… well… for 2026… It’s Punk.