Back Row, Front Row: A Case for Punching Up

Everything you needed to know about society you learned sitting in a 12th-grade English class.

If you’ve made it this far in life without being fired, cancelled, or publicly flogged for saying something true, congratulations — you’re ahead of me. I write because I can’t not; because silence feels like complicity, and complicity feels like rot. If this piece leaves you nodding, snarling, or muttering, “Well, he’s not wrong,” then you’re precisely the reader I’m writing for.

You’ll get three essays a week — unapologetically long, occasionally bleak, often funny, always honest. It’s six bucks a month — less than one coffee in Carney’s Canada, or two if you buy the cheap stuff. Everyone says that, of course: “It’s just a cup of coffee.” Fine. But if you’re only going to buy one cup this month, make it mine. It’s $6 a month, and you can cancel anytime.

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