Nicholas Grider

The Known Person On the Internet says he knows how it feels because he’s felt it himself but stronger because he feels everything at maximum strength due to a childhood that was formative and because he has felt everything intently. This means he has felt everything there is to feel, even the feelings of crowds that haven’t been gathered yet.

The Known Person On the Internet says you are welcome to send him money because he needs a chair because as we well all know he cannot survive without one and neither can humanity, but he is the one who needs sitting most right now.

It doesn’t count as begging if your finger’s on the trigger, jokes The Known Person On the Internet.

Supplements are fine, says The Known Person On the Internet. Be careful but don’t be too careful, he says. Supplements and doing your own research.

Entertainment purposes only, The Known Person On the Internet reminds us. No liability for our failures based on his good ideas, which are ideas for entertainment purposes only and not legally binding suggestions.

The Known Person On the Internet says there’s nothing in the basement so there’s no need to look there and there’s nothing in that room, he says while he points to a padlocked door framed in scarlet LED piping, and there’s no need to look in his other property’s cellar, or in the shed, or in the woods behind the shed.

The Known Person On the Internet appreciates our interest and curiosity but needs us to calm down because we don’t know the most important facts.

The Known Person On the Internet wants to know if chat just clipped his fake dick slip. Just tell me if you did, he encourages us. You know the policy, but people make mistakes all the time. If that weren’t the case, he postulates as the sheen on his forehead and lenses of his blue-blocker sunglasses catches the gleam of Amazon Wishlist vibe-setter lights, why else would you return here again and again to leave generous donations in exchange for my open-hand guidance?

There’s a neon sign in The Known Person On the Internet’s room that says KEEP GRINDING and he assures us more than once it is real, that we can tell because of how the letters spelling “GRIND” are burnt out but the white neon letters on white wall is still otherwise lit up. Shit getting broken, he says, is how you know shit is real, and shit being real is how you know shit is worth something.

Cursive neon is not universal, says The Known Person On the Internet, but the vibe of cursive is so real that the pyramid aliens probably have it in their star cruisers.

The Known Person On the Internet leans in and encourages us to take what he terms “accessible and repeatable human risks.” He also says he cannot comment on the ongoing legal case. Not the one where his HQ is located, not the one in Delaware, and not even the contract dispute.

Are you fucking dead in the head, asks The Known Person On the Internet. This question is not always aimed at a specific person, and can be found across several fields of online discourse. At some point the phrase is placed on a t-shirt, which The Known Person On the Internet encourages you to purchase even though he claims it was neither his doing nor his idea.

Minor hustles are for minor men, says The Known Person On the Internet. Put that shit on a t-shirt. But no not minor like underage, minor like insignificant. Nobody’s getting up the ass of The Known Person On the Internet over shit that went down almost a decade ago, or clipping him, or doing fucked shit.

Sometimes the veins in the arms and neck and face of the known person on the internet are visible like the neon behind him. This, The Known Person On the Internet says, is because of science.

I don’t actually have an opinion, The Known Person On the Internet says as the pounding on the door of his HQ’s ops room (second bedroom) grows louder and louder. I always act decisively and efficiently, he clarifies, which is what makes it seem like I do.

The ghosts of chat present whisper about the pounding after everything that happens happens. Most exciting thing in a long time, we agree. Maybe the pounded door should have its own podcast, we say to each other. Now that’s a podcast, we say, watching the tipped over chair in the spare bedroom not move, that’s a podcast we would pay good money for, even if mostly what we’re paying for is to show up and wait. Just in case.

We like waiting, we agree. We just want a chance to catch the world moving when it changes around us. And, we agree, there’s no harm in making sure everything that can be visible stays that way. Sunlight, like in Florida or on commemorative coins.

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