The answer to the titular question is, first and hindmost, not from this blog. And, secondly, not from my writing. I apologize for this, devoutly and with fervent abjection, but I simply could not, and can not, get an ounce of play that can be parlayed into real, number-stuffing money from my reductios.
I’ve sold nothing. I may have made some books, oh yeah, and I cherish them as the greatest unseen treasures of this or any other known world, but they are a familiar comfort in their fanatical anonymity. They are what allow me to pass in this society, to make a dishonest buck, to rise above the horrid decrepitude of no job-no money – no voice and have a mind that find some expression in writing while giving the demands of social reality their duty with a decently-paying job of erumpent stupidity.
So what about you? Do you want a job that matches your ideals? Do you think you have one? Then be like this weirdly anti-Jewish dude:
I was pushed out so many times because I went against the vanguard, the rear-guard, the guarded and the turncoats of society – middling folk who have banked on some little 401-k pension shit that will of course be gutted, soon, by the elite class, those offshore-loving, country-killing, labor-squeezing, death-expediting folk we call economists and Wall Streeters.
Or be like all the left-liberal punditry, unable to account for how they get paid, where their family’s money came from, what financial adviser they have, or what it is like to sell blood for money, or to live as a pauper in a temporary consumer wonderworld. We all get money from fully unaccountable sources, so this anti-nihilist Occupado sentiment that we should love what we do, and we should do good, unthreatening misery-comfort work for the poor ignores the irredeemably corrupt and sensationally unregulated nature of our supersystem.
Sure, we would love to do well, to make nice, to get along by hosting fully-aligned tender-hearted folk singalongs, but that’s not in the design blueprints of the supersystem. Just don’t turn into a raving jackass. Find a life outside whatever dumbass job comes your way, if you can find one. How’s that for an anti-Franzen, anti David Fos-W commencement speech?