Why I Write

The mission of these missives.

Atlanta, GA

April 9, 2025

Why waste time writing these essays? Every once in a while, it’s good to remind myself.

The last couple weeks we received a slew of new subscribers (thank you…and welcome), so now seems a good time to revisit the mission of these puerile missives.

The short answer: there isn’t one.

These epistles are easy outlets for whatever’s on my mind. Which might make readers wonder how there’s any material at all!

But when there is…usually two or three times a week…the effluence includes thoughts on economics, history, religion, philosophy, family, books, investing, travel…and politics. The latter is what’s most prone to get me in trouble.

I’m not sure why. We all notice things, and form opinions. All I do is write mine down, as flawed interpretations of what I see, read, or hear. But for whatever reason, that can make people mad.

That’s too bad, and it certainly isn’t my intent. I just share my perspectives. No one is required to adopt them. Nor am I convinced they should.

Lobotomies and Leeches

Mostly, I’m just trying to capture moments and organize my thoughts. I harbor no illusions any of them are correct. Like lobotomies or leeches in the history of medicine, they simply reflect the thinking at a particular time.

Till a few years ago, these posts rarely ventured into political topics. I stayed away because it was too contentious. I wrote mostly about travel, family activities, books I’d read, movies I’d seen. Like a diary, it was mostly a journal for my own recollection.

Later, I began inflicting the scribbles on my extended family. This encouraged me to polish the essays, while keeping relatives apprised what I was up to.

But I kept politics at bay, especially as additional acquaintances started reading what I wrote. Why risk antagonizing friends or jeopardizing a job by publishing political opinions nobody requested?

Changing My Mind

For years, there was no reason. But with the covid hysteria, I changed my mind…mostly to ensure I hadn’t lost it.

When the virus came along, conventional opinion congealed…like a blood clot…around uniform responses we were all supposed to parrot. And it seemed like everyone did.

That’s part of propaganda, to suppress dissidents by making them think they’re alone. If you assume no one shares your opinion, you tend to keep it to yourself. Before long, you’ll probably abandon it as invalid. It’s why people in power prefer competing perspectives be silenced or shamed.

But I couldn’t believe so few people objected to the draconian measures being imposed upon us. So I decided to use this site to see if any of them did.

Apprehensively, like a Floridian entering a chilly lake, I started expressing opposition to the ridiculous restrictions and compulsory “guidelines.”

When I opposed the lockdowns, responses were favorable. I was relieved. Not only because most respondents didn’t think I was crazy, but because it affirmed to me that not everyone was nuts. People were pleased to hear they weren’t alone. For most of the next year, the covid fiasco filled many of these essays.

It was inconceivable people could lose friends, family, or employment because of how they viewed a virus. But that’s what happened. I began gathering readers I didn’t know, uncertain how they’d respond when I wandered into different topics.

A Running Catalogue

Then I realized it doesn’t matter. I need to write what I think. Often, that relates to the ongoing asylum of our contemporary scene. But not always.

Sometimes, I go on about some historic event. Other times, I relay one of our son’s accomplishments, a relative’s birthday, a repair at the house, or a death in the family. Occasionally, I’m moved to deplore the condition of the Catholic Church. It just depends.

Over the years, these articles have become something of an album…a running catalogue of current events. But instead of compiling photos, I compose these essays.

On occasion, like recoiling at teenage pictures featuring goofy haircuts and awkward apparel, I wince when re-read some of the tripe I’ve written.

But so what? It’s what I was thinking when I wrote it. Maybe I was wrong. That’s OK. I usually am. Most of us are.

How could it be otherwise? Information is infinite, almost all of it unknown. To any question, there’s an endless number of wrong answers, and (at best) only a few “right” ones. What are the odds we stumble into something correct?

Knowledge varies inversely with the square of the distance (in time and space) from events under contemplation. And when we think we’ve found it, it’s often wrong, and frequently laden with hidden lies or ulterior motives.

Especially in the public sphere, understanding is elusive while certainty abounds. When absorbing “the news”, we should reflexively doubt anything we see. I agree with Bill Bonner that we should believe no “facts” unless we make them up ourselves.

Tree in the Forest

One way or another, that’s what all of us do. We have no idea what’s really going on. Yet we speak authoritatively about events occurring around the world, featuring people we’ll never meet, amid cultures and conflicts we can’t possibly understand.

Regardless the topic, it takes only a matter of minutes for any ignoramus to become an “expert.” Most of us have little clue what’s happening in our own neighborhood. But we have confident recommendations about complex situations around the globe.

This particularly applies to the people “in charge”. Being in the middle of the messes they repeatedly make, around opinions that reinforce their own, they probably know the least of all. As the ancient Jewish saying has it, the best place to hide a tree is in a forest.

Chesterton said it’s easy to be blind to a thing, as long as it’s big enough. Given the size of the calamities they cause, our official busybodies should carry a white cane.

Easy for me to say. If I’m so sure these people are buffoons, why not quit commenting, and get in the game? What makes me think I can do any better than the buttinskies I denounce?

That’s easy: I don’t. Because I can’t. No one can. That’s the point.

Each of eight billion earthlings has his own set of priorities, fears, hopes, desires, dreams, and demons. No collection of political hacks, government agents, or elected officials…no matter how well-intentioned, eager, or educated… is capable of implementing top-down “policies” that won’t make matters worse.

How can any person, committee, Congress, or bureau possibly know how billions of individuals with varying value scales should react to a virus? Or what the appropriate temperature of the planet should be? Or the optimal interest rate in a $28T economy? Or where a line should be drawn between Russia and the Ukraine? Or if there should be one at all?

Unfortunately, these decisions tend to be made by the people least worthy of making them, because they genuinely think they’re qualified to do so. Almost without fail, the anointed deciders make things worse, then insist the disaster would’ve been avoided if they’d only been able to do more.

Doing the Dishes

Joining this fray doesn’t seem to solve the problem. If anything, it exacerbates it. After a century expanding “democracy” and “involving more people”, monetary inflation, government debt, military destruction, and cultural decay reached unfathomable levels.

With regard to politics, we probably need fewer people in the mix, not more. I’m more than willing to stay away, rather than join the circus and become another clown. Besides, there’s plenty to do closer to home.

PJ O’Rourke observed that everyone wants to save the world, but no one wants to help mom with the dishes. Except as entertainment…and to the extent it’s not destructive…national politics is mostly a waste of time. But local efforts can make a difference.

Energy is best channeled thru more productive circuits: building businesses, starting families, helping friends. We can enjoy good books, long walks, nice meals. Support local charities and community engagement. Indulge stimulating conversation sprinkled with healthy debate. And recall how to laugh, especially at ourselves.

As is obvious to anyone reading this, I’ll spout off when ignorant…especially when I assume I’m not. If I didn’t, I’d hardly say anything at all. None of us would. But we should always be mindful of our ignorance so we aren’t misled by our knowledge.

I admit I know almost nothing. Why wouldn’t I? The world is filled with things to be wrong about.

Maybe the mission of these missives is to work my way thru them, one mistake at a time.

JD