Frequently Asked Questions

The name comes from an expression in Hunter S. Thompson's short story, "Death of a Poet," in which the protagonist gives someone "a taste of the long knuckle" (i.e., unexpectedly punching someone in the mouth). Although it’s trite to say that something "packs a punch," The Long Knuckle is designed to do just that. The topics vary widely, and the stories are unpredictable, but the common theme is their brutish impact.

January 2025

As of now, I release one new article every other Monday, but as my capacity grows, I'll publish more frequently.

Short answer: No.

Long answer: Fuck NO. For one, I don't think generative AI will contribute to any interesting, meaningful publishing. I think AI will be useful for derivative journalism and passive content. What does the former look like? Take a peek at any plethora of publications that copy-and-paste an AP or Reuters article, throw in their own bias, and click "publish." These articles are formulaic and uncreative, and as so, AI will be fantastic for this. To exemplify the latter, can you remember the music that played the last time you were at the grocery store? What about the dentist office or a department store? Most likely, you don't recall what song was played, but that's okay; it's called background music for a reason. Background music is like wallpaper—it's mildly interesting but nobody is really paying attention to it. It's purpose is just to exist. AI will be great at developing background music because this music isn't trying to be important and memorable. You want 1920s muzak? 80s jangle pop? How about 70s-era instrumental country? These AI tracks won't be played on the radio or in music videos. Sure, there will be the exceptions, maybe even a Grammy category eventually, but I'm talking about trends, baby. People want different. They crave it, and only humans can provide that level of originality. Why is that? Simply put, humans don't always use prior data to inform their decisions. Sometimes, they make up their own data. No amount of data could have predicted and executed records like Psychocandy by The Jesus and Mary Chain or Loveless by my bloody valentine, not to mention other seminal albums like Korn's, The Breeder's, or Suicide's debut LPs. For these reasons, I don't believe in using generative AI for journalism. Besides, I'm tired of how over-hyped and over-promised AI is (and I'm saying this as a computer science graduate).

To continue the diatribe, pondering cultural paradoxes, poking fun at life, taking instant photos, and writing about these experiences IS the fun part. Why would I give up that treasure for the uncreative, uninteresting, redundant bile that any AI can poop out? I respect myself and my readers enough to know that you deserve better and that I will do everything in my power to deliver to that.

Besides the ripe amount of literature that discusses the psychologically pernicious nature of comment sections, the lower the effort threshold, the lower the batting average.

Think about it this way: let's say you want to send someone a dick pic. In today's time, you can drop your cargo shorts (your fashion choice, not mine), snap a photo, and send it—all in under 10 seconds. Now let's assume you wanted to send a dick pic in the 1970s. You'd probably get into your Cheve Impala, drive to the local Walgreens, purchase a disposable camera, drive back to your bachelor pad, snap some selfies with your chorizo, hop back into your sweet ride, drop off the camera to have the film processed, bribe the cashier (because obscenity laws prohibit them to return nude photography so you either know a person who could hook you up or you have to fork over an Andrew Jackson), drive back home, wait seven-to-ten days, get a call that your photos are ready to be picked up, drive back to Walgreens, pick up your photos, go back home, find the chosen one, put it in an envelope, throw a stamp and address on that bad boy, drive to the local post office, drop it off, and wait another three-to-seven business days for it to arrive to the lucky winner.

Although, purely on principle, I have to commend anyone with the dedication and stupidity to carry out such a scheme, this probably wasn't a common occurrence a few decades ago. Why is that? Well obviously, it's so much damn work.

The problem with comment sections is that they're low-bearing fruit for trouble-makers. Certainly, there are moments when comment sections contain relevant anecdotes, ideas, opinions, or questions, but these typically exist on viewer-based content (like YouTube or TikTok). Once you switch over to reader-based content (like X or a news website), oftentimes, comments either (1) don't add value, (2) contain misinformed drivel from armchair "experts," (3) advertise "I'll show you how to make thousands of dollars with forex trading" scams, or (4) provide trolls an opportunity to rile people up. You certainly have times when helpful comments exist on the latter and unhelpful comments exist on the former, but that's not the pattern.

This is why I have a contact form on the website. As with any print newspaper or magazine, it is your prerogative to contact the editor should you find a mistake, feel moved to share praise, dare to criticize, or desire to bring anything to the editor's attention. This publication operates in similar fashion. You are always welcome to reach out via the contact page, and I'll be sure to read it.

As of now, it's free. Eventually, it will probably be $1.99/month or $19.99/year, with a new article published every other Monday. As the publication grows and I can dedicate more time to it, it will probably be $3.99/month or $39.99/year, with a new article published every Monday. Note: this is all speculation.

At the moment, I am not making any money. In fact, I am losing money to do this. However, I plan to only have a subscription. That means I will deliberately have no ads, sponsorships, endorsements, or merch, ever.

My long term goal is the same as my short term goal: I want to provide great articles on a consistent schedule. This means that eventually I should try to make money doing this. Losing money is clearly not a sustainable way for this publication to survive in the long-term, and I want this ship to survive. If for whatever reason this ship does sink, you'd best believe the captain—yours truly—will go down with it.

When I start charging for access, subscriptions will probably be $1.99/month or $19.99/year. In exchange, I will publish a new article every other Monday, and you will have access to all content for as long as the ship is sailing.

It's a bit trite to use the coffee analogy for subscriptions but even so, that analogy typically refers to subscriptions that cost around $5. Can you even find a cup of coffee for a couple bucks these days?

Well, I took it upon myself to find out by going to 20 spots near me. All orders were for a hot medium black coffee. (If medium wasn't available, I went with a small.) The totals listed below include only the drink price plus tax. Here's what I found:

• Panera: $3.12
• Waffle House: $2.50
• The Corner Cup: $3.05
• Perc: $3.92
• Spiller Park: $3.50
• Chattahoochee Coffee Company: $3.18
• Marietta Perks: $4.02
• Mint Coffeehouse: $2.70
• Blue Donkey Coffee: $3.27
• Costa Coffee: $2.99
• Hansel & Gretel: $3.71
• Breadwinner Cafe: $2.14
• Summit Coffee: $3.51
• White Windmill: $3.24
• ChocoLate Coffee: 4.32
• San Francisco Coffee Roasting Company: $3.81
• Crazy Love Coffeehouse: $3.23
• Just Love Coffee Cafe: $3.18
• Prevail Union: $3.51
• The Coffee Bean and Tea Leaf: $3.92

Well, that about sums that up… with a sample size of 20, I couldn't find a place that sold a medium cup of joe for $2 total. (Don't mind me going outside and shaking my fist at a cloud.)

In conclusion, The Long Knuckle is positioned to provide great value at a cost that will help us keep the lights on. We're not looking for Duck McScrooge-diving-into-a-pool-of-gold-coins profit; we're happy to contribute to the culture and just stay afloat.

There are problems with every form of revenue besides subscriptions. Here are the most common revenue streams for a publication like this and my thoughts about each:

Ad Revenue

I have NO interest in running ads on my publication, ever. For one, I think it makes for a horrible reader experience. Imagine you check out a book from your local library, go home, start reading a couple chapters, and then turn the page to find a fucking Burger King ad. I feel the same way when I see ads in any publications. Of course, if I pay money for something, I shouldn't have to see ads dangled in front of me like a severed head. I should be able to read the content I paid money for and move on with my life. The problem with running a "free" publication with advertisement is that—as we know from high school economics class—there is no such thing as free. Elvis Presley's manager Colonel Tom Parker was remembered for asking the question, "How much does it cost if it's free?" Well in the case of a "free" publication, the cost to you is either (1) your data being sold (which I'll get to later) and/or (2) your money being spent on whatever product is being advertised to you, which leads me to my second point. If my website ran ads, I'd have to deal with researching and understanding the products and ethics of each company I would hypothetically advertise. The only thing worse than running ads in general is running ads for a company with a shitty product or shitty ethics. I never want to be an ally to a company that does not live up to my moral standard, and I'm not saying this sanctimoniously. I believe we should all be holding each other accountable, and this is my way of not being disingenuous about trying to shove some product (that you most likely don't need anyway) down your throat. All of this time in hypothetically researching different companies and products is time taken away from developing great content. Why waste all this time and energy on an inferior user experience that nobody wants anyway? I think the obvious answer is to forego ads as a revenue stream option.

Sponsorships/Endorsements/Influencing (a.k.a. Advertising 2.0)

We've all had the experience of watching a YouTube video or listening to a podcast that abruptly segues to a bit in which some dude named Gerard tells you to use the promo code "Gerard10" for 10% off your next order of ding-dongs. This is also a poor user experience and one that I particularly abhor. Many blog posts, YouTube videos, podcasts, etc. are either sponsored, endorsed, or somehow influenced by some company. Product placement, paid content, affiliate links, yada yada yada. It's all just another form of advertising. I refuse to be a corporate shill and, as such, will never accept payment from a company to influence the content of The Long Knuckle. I think that would be annoying at best and a conflict of interest at worst.

Merch

Oh boy… here goes my litany about merch. For one, I never want to sell something I wouldn't buy myself. Of all the videos, podcasts, or publications I've consumed, I have never purchased a single item of merch, and I never plan to either. Second, merch eventually turns into land-fill, and I don't want to influence people into buying stuff that leads to more trash on earth. Likewise, I believe in conscious consumerism and, as such, cannot in good conscience encourage others to purchase t-shirts, tote bags, baseball caps, and whatever other modern-day tchotchkes exist. As Fugazi's Ian MacKaye sang on their anti-consumerism song "Merchandise," "you are not what you own!" Speaking of Fugazi, if you really feel compelled to show off The Long Knuckle, be punk rock about it and go the DIY route. Find a blank t-shirt in your closet and a sharpie from your clutter drawer, and be creative with it. My last note here is that if I were to hypothetically make merch, it reintroduces the same ethical problem expressed in the "Advertising" section, which is that I would want to be informed about the merch supply chain. Where are the t-shirts made? Are those workers being underpaid and exploited? Are the t-shirts made in a third-world country by child labors? I would have to spend a bunch of time researching suppliers and distributors and other bullshit just so it ends up killing ocean animals in two years. Clearly, using merch as a revenue stream introduces way more problems than it solves, so you will never see me sell merch, ever.

Selling Your Data

As the old adage goes, "if the product is free, you're the product." This has become especially true in today's data-era. With a quick internet search, you'll see that data has been considered the world's most valuable commodity since 2017. However, collecting and selling data has certainly been around before that, and throughout all this time, we've encountered some major data breaches: Facebook, Google, and Equifax, to name a few.

For starters, I have no desire to track a bunch of user data to sell "behind your backs." (I use quotes here because selling user information is usually specified or insinuated in a company's Terms & Conditions but is pretty much never explicitly stated otherwise… and who the hell reads that stuff anyway?) This would be more effort than it's worth, and I believe in building a world that isn't so "big brother"-ish. You should be able to just go about your life in a normal manner without having your activity, behavior, location, age, and more be tracked, packaged, and sold to third parties like cereal boxes on a shelf in aisle seven. By requiring payment, you (and your data) do NOT become commodities in the process. This should alleviate any ethical concerns surrounding motive on my part and privacy on your part.

Donations

I've thought long and hard about this one. Donations usually go into two buckets, with the first being pay-what-you-want. This only works well for one-off events, like Radiohead's 2007 album In Rainbows. As album releases are typically infrequent, consumers do not need to reach for their credit cards often. Radiohead's pay-what-you-want album release worked so well that, according to Music Ally, "Radiohead had made more money before 'In Rainbows' was physically released than they made in total on the previous album 'Hail To the Thief.'" Keep in mind, however, that paying for a specific album does not grant access to prior albums; it is a one-time purchase. The Long Knuckle differs from this paradigm because those who can access new articles can also access all past articles. This begs several questions I would have to ask myself: how would donations work for a publication like The Long Knuckle? Would I have to bug you to pay-what-you-want after reading an article? Would it be a time-based reminder, like once a month? Would it be contingent on tracking metadata, seeing how long you spent reading on the website, and then annoying you after every 2 hours worth of reading? Clearly, all of this is a bit ridiculous to consider.

The second bucket that works for donations is non-profit guilt-tripping. Think Wikipedia. You use it on a semi-regular basis, and once in a while, you're slapped with a banner that begs at your feet for a few bucks. They claim that only 2% of people donate, which probably means that the other 98% feel guilty about not donating. To be clear, I love Wikipedia. I've participated as an editor, and I've donated to them numerous times in the past. I just don't think this structure works well outside of non-profits.

Ultimately, donations are too unpredictable to rely on as a consistent revenue stream. I want to do this for the long run, and I believe donations do not provide the structure nor security to uphold a long-term vision.

Subscriptions

Whew! You actually made it this far! You should pat yourself on the back. Seriously. Okay, back to the program…

The subscription is by far the simplest, most direct, most transparent, most honest, and least environmentally impactful financial supporting mechanism for The Long Knuckle. It's dead simple; you pay a few dollars per month and, in exchange, have access to all published articles under The Long Knuckle, which includes new articles published on a cadence. THE END.

By having a subscription, I won't need to bother you with ads, persuade you to sign up for some bullshit "masterclass," compromise your data, create affiliate links, share promo codes, become an influencer, or contribute to landfill along the way. It's a no-nonsense, no-frills deal. No multiple tiers, no swindling you into getting upsold, no begging at your feet, no "buy me a coffee," and no selling NFTs.

Conclusion

As of writing this, The Long Knuckle is still free… and I mean free free.

I will only ever publish content that I think is interesting; meaning: I will never accept payment to promote anything, ever. I am as jaded of "company-paid-for" content as anyone and believe that this decision will lead to more a genuine experience between The Long Knuckle and you—the reader.

If (and this is a big if) I ever promote any product or business, I would only be doing so purely because I believe in the product or business, never because I am being paid to do so.

Hopefully, my acerbic filibuster cleared up any questions like "why are you choosing subscriptions to be your only revenue stream?" or "will you ever have a merch drop?" I want to dedicate myself to being the change I want to see in the world, and I think this is a small, noble step towards that.