HODL HODL HODL
Don't MOVE AN INCH
Eid Mubarak to those who celebrate! (Not me but I love and respect all.)
I love accessing various dashboards and analytics. That’s where I can see data streams that give me key, actionable insights. So when I logged onto the Substack Dashboard this morning, I was prepared to see a number—but the number I saw shocked me.
Nah because why am I smiling the widest possible grin rn? 😃
We did it. We have slipped the surly bonds of the vulgar and entered the pantheon of Substack sublime. We’re at the perfect number—one subscriber more and we enter sellout territory, washed hacks who pander pander pander1 to their slavish audiences, doling out buckets of Substack diaryslop and center-right rational looksmaxxing cope to be poured down the gullets and maws2 of an unsuspecting audience. One subscriber less and we’re irrelevant pretenders, down in the chasm with the heaving hordes of the Substack user base.
My happiness rests on one thing: nobody should subscribe or unsubscribe ever again.
Hold. The fucking. Line. Do not attempt to “reduce the clutter in your inbox.” Do not think “ah what the hell, guess I’ll give it a shot” on Recommendations from “12 Grams of Carbon” Do not click on “harry’s” “Note” about “A Beautiful Girl Named Canine Hip-Dysplasia.” Just stay the damn course, keep your ship sailing straight. Do not deviate.
Your rewards for following my instructions shall be thus:
Low Lift Ask will end. No more posts or emails in your inbox. Not one musing shall enter your sphere of consumption. No bad short story, no bad writing, no low effort. It will all be over. Just hold the damn line. If anyone subscribes or unsubscribes over the next week, we will be forced to continue this newsletter forever.
Indians will dominate the world stage. Self-explanatory. I know half of you are guys in the Bay Area named “Arun Mullapudi” who are desperate to go to “Luma” events where you bandy about “positive externalities of friendship” with someone named “Genevieve Yu” that you secretly have a huge crush on. If you hold the line, I will make sure you make it to the top of the social pecking order, where you will have your choice of mate.
You can have my comp ticket to see the second half of Project Hail Mary at BAM. File was corrupted when I went to go see it last night. Actually I kind of want to see the second half, even though it was rather corny. I just need to know: does Ryan Gosling (Dr. Ryland Grace) end up saving the sun? Or does he fail in his mission, doom the human race to extinction, and die? So I’ll probably end up keeping that ticket. Sorry about that one. You can read the Andy Weir Wikia if you want to really know about all that stuff.
Nabeel’s Footnote
That being said, if 101 of you decide to subscribe all at the exact moment, subsequently getting us to 1,000, I will take you all out for a large seafood platter. A huge seafood platter.
🎵 brrrrah. I got broads in atlanta
🎵 Gullets and maws. Gullets and maws. Gullets ‘til I reach you.