“Years ago, a friend of mine and I used to frequent a market in Baltimore where we would eat oysters and drink VLB’s – Very Large Beers – from 32-ounce styrofoam cups. One of the regulars there had the worst toupee in the world, a comical little wig taped in place on the top of his head. Looking at this man and drinking our VLB’s, we developed the concept of the Soul Toupee.

Each of us has a Soul Toupee. The Soul Toupee is that thing about ourselves we are most deeply embarrassed by and like to think we have cunningly concealed from the world, but which is, in fact, pitifully obvious to everybody who knows us.

Contemplating one’s own Soul Toupee is not an exercise for the fainthearted.

Most of the time, other people don’t even get why our Soul Toupee is any big deal or a cause of such evident deep shame to us, but they can tell that it is because of our inept, transparent efforts to cover it up, which only call more attention to it and to our self-consciousness about it, and so they gently pretend not to notice it. Meanwhile, we’re standing there with our little rigid spongelike square of hair pasted on our heads thinking: Heh – got ‘em all fooled!”

What’s so ironic and sad about this is that the very parts of ourselves that we’re most ashamed of and eager to conceal are not only obvious to everyone but are also, quite often, the parts of us they love best.”

Tim Kreider, The Czar’s Daughter

If you spend enough time in nature, eventually you will see something so majestic and unlikely that you are struck speechless. You might watch a deer nibble at the grass in your local park when an eagle swoops down like a fighter jet, snatches the deer from the ground, and soars up into the treetops. These scenes temporarily empty your mind of vocabulary. You replay the incident over and over again in your head, examining the memory for any clue that you misperceived what just happened, like a merchant inspecting a diamond for flaws. In the weeks and months later, what stays with you is not just the slow-motion clarity of the event, but the feeling of awe that hit you like a sudden drop in air pressure, a sensation our neurons produce only after witnessing something both brutal and impossibly beautiful.

At its peak, Tim Kreider’s We Learn Nothing generates this sort of emotional response every 60-90 seconds. You pause an essay for minutes simply to absorb and recover from the precision with which he knocks you in gut with a hard truth, gorgeously rendered.

The book isn’t a manual to boost your productivity or reclaim your finances or build your network. It’s a series of stunning personal essays by a largely unknown cartoonist and writer. Few people reading this will take a chance on this book, even after a recommendation by me, a completely unknown non-cartoonist and writer.

That’s why I’m gifting 10 copies of this book. If you’d like one, contact me here [I recommend the audiobook version, as read by Tim himself]. If you’d like to listen to Lazy: A Manifesto, one of the essays that appears in the book, you can do so here for free.

Like witnessing a bolt of lightning strike a tree fifty yards in the distance, the first thing you want to do after cleaning your pants and picking your jaw up off the ground is share the moment with your friends.

Straight-A’s should be a handicap when applying to colleges.

Imagine you are an admissions officer deciding between two applicants:

Lisa gets A’s in every class, is first-chair violin, and captain of the rugby team.

Arya gets C’s and D’s in all of her classes, save for Physics and Woodworking, where she gets A’s. She doesn’t do any academic extracurriculars, but she has a Gunpla youtube channel.

You might believe that Lisa is the better student, but the truth is that her transcript tells you less than Arya’s.

Lisa’s high grades across classes highlights her capability for success, but obscures her interest in anything other than academic achievement.

Meanwhile, Arya demonstrates both capability and passion for a specific topic.

Lisa, with so many commitments manages her time; Arya prioritizes her time.

As an admissions officer, you should feel confident that Lisa will thrive inside your university. And that Arya will thrive beyond.

For a discussion of fragility and antifragility applied to education, read this article by Alwyn Lau.

Space-time is, broadly, the theory that time and space are not independent structures; the flow of time actually changes relative to an object’s position and movement through space.

As I sipped absinthe in a secret red-walled bar down a Shibuya alleyway, I considered the existence of a new theory of relativity: the space-food continuum.

What I discovered in my liquor-ish haze, is that my food selection changes relative to my position and movement around the globe.

I treat food like I treat maps.

When I visit unfamiliar cities, I give the finger to maps. Fuck a map, I am a space explorer. I lose time. I lose myself. I pick a point and wander, turning randomly at intersections, no destination in mind. I prioritize novelty over all else. I don’t particularly care where I end up, or when. I trust curiosity, fortune, and friends to lead me to the right spaces.

And the right foods.

Plunk me in a new city, and I will eat everything, try anything. I chuck calorie tracking and nutrient density out the window. My intention is to amble about the culinary topography, to taste the strange, the banal, the obvious and obscure; to let luck guide my tongue.

At home, I turn from explorer to engineer. Space is an optimization exercise. I study the map. I figure out where the fewest stop signs are located and I track the lengths of stoplights in order to shave seconds off my travel time. Beating Google Maps’ estimated travel duration brings me great joy. Missing an exit on the freeway brings me great shame. The purpose of commuting isn’t to commute; the purpose of commuting is to Get There.

At home, food becomes a route to a specific destination. To lower blood levels of LDL-P. To reduce body fat by 5%. To deadlift 35 more pounds. In the kitchen, I track macros and weigh meat. I record weekly averages. Food follows function: I prioritize effectiveness and efficiency over aesthetics and chance.

My tolerance for serendipity increases as a factor of distance from my house.

This is what I define as the space-food continuum.

You would though.

Given the right set of circumstances, you would vote for an erratic, dangerous, anti-democratic nitwit, assuming that she or he represented the majority of your political priorities.

So let’s build a liberal Donald Trump.

First off, it wouldn’t be Donald Trump, because an old white male would have difficulty channeling the younger, less-white, less-male Democratic base. However, this person could have all of Trump’s other qualities: narcissism, inexperience, troubling attitudes toward women, bluntness, and the ability to entertain large crowds by saying nothing.

Look: Kanye West would be liberal Donald Trump.

And what would be the characteristics of a Kanye candidacy? In order to appeal to a liberal base in a Trumpian fashion, we would see appealing far-left positions framed with a naive understanding of policy and diplomacy.

On the Kanye platform:

  • Monetary reparations for Black, Native, and Asian Americans
  • A promise to end to “all war”, including suspension of drone strike program
  • Federal legalization of marijuana and psychedelics
  • Expansion of women’s rights, including equal pay, parental leave, and greater access to reproductive health care (unfortunately including an off-color joke about being the cause of many abortions himself)
  • Amnesty to undocumented immigrants and uncapping the number of work visas granted per year
  • Commitment to move U.S. energy sources to “future shit”: solar, wind, etc. by 2030
  • Free Tidal accounts for all citizens (taxpayer subsidized)

Sounds pretty appealing, doesn’t it? The fact that he is a musician and entrepreneur with no political experience no longer strikes you as a deal-breaker. His inability to discuss these issues with any clarity or nuance on the campaign trail becomes easier to overlook.

But are you willing to overlook his more disturbing habits? Let’s also imagine:

  • An open war with police unions, including public musing over whether he will “shut down” the NYPD and prosecute officers for biased policing
  • Insults toward any opposition, including families of fallen officers
  • A full-throated defense of celebrity rapists
  • Behind-the-scenes recordings of him making demeaning comments about women and bragging about sexual exploits with questionable consent
  • A pledge to outlaw paparazzi and jail media outlets critical of his albums
  • 3AM Twitter ranting on biased journalism
  • A disgusting insistence that he will finally sleep with Taylor Swift as president
  • First Lady Kim Kardashian

You’re on the fence now. When 2024 rolls around, you don’t vote for Kanye in the Democratic primary, but he wins the nomination on a wave of (now-greying) millennial support. And who does the Republican party nominate?

Bionic Dick Cheney.

It has to be him. It has to be him because Dick Cheney makes liberals shudder the way Hillary makes conservatives furious. Their records aren’t equivalent, but they both represent the worst of the opposition party, and they have for decades.

We now have a 2016-style election between a dangerous asshole who you mostly agree with as long as he keeps his mouth shut (which is rare), and a literal zombie that hates everything you stand for.

You could, of course, make a protest vote. But you balk at people who do that. After all, there really is no such thing as a protest vote: Either Kanye West or Dick Cheney is going to be the next President of the United States.

And you aren’t going to vote for Dick Cheney. No way. No way.

You are going to vote for liberal Donald Trump.

In 1968, when William Jefferson Clinton was a Rhodes Scholar at Oxford University, he met a graduate student named Jeffrey Stamps at a party.Clinton promptly pulled out a black address book. “What are you doing here at Oxford, Jeff?” he asked.”

“I’m at Pembroke on a Fulbright,” Jeff replied. Clinton penned “Pembroke” into his book…

“Bill, why are you writing this down?” asked Stamps.

“I’m going into politics and plan to run for governor of Arkansas, and I’m keeping track of everyone I meet,” said Clinton.

As an undergraduate at Georgetown, the forty second president made it a nightly habit to record, on index cards, the names and vital information of every person whom he’d met that day.

Keith Ferrazzi, Never Eat Alone

My first reaction upon reading this: “Ha, what an odd dude, that Clinton.”

My second reaction, a moment later: So what the hell am I doing at parties, then? If I’m not there to learn about the people I meet, if I’m not curious about their histories, their perspectives, if I’m willing to let our conversation spill from my memory as soon as the food arrives, why am I there?

And if I am there to learn, how would I demonstrate that?

If a student doesn’t take any notes during a lecture, you can assume that they don’t care much about the class. Perhaps they have a supernatural memory, but it’s far more likely that they aren’t invested in the subject.

When we want to learn, we don’t leave it to chance. We pay attention, ask questions, take notes, review.

And yet, when it comes to the most important subject – the people around us – we leave it all to chance.

For a long time, this wasn’t a problem. We didn’t need to spend a great deal of effort learning about new people because until recently, we rarely met new people. Our social biology and behavioral norms are shaped by thousands of years living in tribes rarely larger than a few hundred. Our brains are only equipped to hold around 150 people in our heads. Odds are, your mental rolodex was full before you got to high school.

Social networks are useful to us because they help fill in the gaps. We meet somebody in the wild and then we get to know them on our iPhone. Their profiles are the notes we should have taken when we met them.

I used to remember people’s phone numbers, now my phone remembers them. It’s your birthday when Facebook tells me it’s your birthday.

Social networks, if we let them, will happily gobble the remainder of our mental representation of our friends.

Maybe that’s not a big deal. Perhaps outsourcing trivia like dates and facts to our phones allows us to focus on what’s really important. The test is open-book, says the student. Why take notes?

We take notes because there is a difference between passing the test and learning the subject. We take notes because we care.

We are bad students when it comes to connecting with people.

And what would a good student do? Pay attention, ask questions, take notes, review.

If you feel like politicians don’t represent your attitudes, it is possible that you are not strange enough.

In the documentary Objectified, industrial designer Dan Formosa describes his lab’s approach to building new products:

“We have clients come to us and say, ‘Here is our average customer.’ For instance, ‘Female, she is 34 years old, she has 2.3 kids,’ and we listen politely and say, ‘Well, that’s great, but we don’t care . . . about that person.’ What we really need to do, to design, is look at the extremes. The weakest, or the person with arthritis, or the athlete, or the strongest, the fastest person, because if we understand what the extremes are, the middle will take care of itself.”

My take: This approach is currently being tested in the U.S. presidential election. We will find out whether speaking to the oddest, the angriest, and the most dogmatic at the exclusion of everyone else is a viable political strategy, or whether you really need to cater those in the middle: independents and undecideds.

More than that, this is a lesson for anybody who has something to say:

Who is your least interested audience? Who are your biggest opponents? Who loves your work? Who are your True Fans? Whether you are crafting a presentation for management, planning a protest, or starting a blog, these are the two audiences you need to consider. Shock your opposition to attention. Nerd out with your homies. No middle ground. No average users. The mean will take care of itself.

To learn about how Tim Ferriss used this principle to learn Spanish in 8 weeks, read The Four-Hour Chef.

Who wins a debate?

Who had the better argument?

Who seemed more likable?

Who showed more strength?

Who was more informed?

Who blinked less?

Who was more memorable?

Who was funnier?

Who convinced more people of their position?

Who had more empathy?

Who showed more certainty?

Of course, it doesn’t matter. Because the person that wins is the person that does the work, investigates the problems, builds the coalition, earns trust, takes responsibility for the outcome. This is the person that wins, whether they show up to the debate or not.

If you are open-minded and do not fear harm to your reputation, then there is a way to receive a world-class education for free. In order to explain how, we must first observe two phenomena:

  1. The internet provides us with immediate and abundant access to experts in all fields.
  2. We have a psychological need to correct stupid statements.

We will use these facts to create an individualized, graduate-level curriculum taught exclusively by the leaders of any field.

All you need to do is be an intentional idiot. Here are the steps:

  1. Find an internet forum dedicated to the topic you wish to study.
  2. Start a thread that offers terribly inaccurate advice to novices. Declare with certainty.
  3. The comment section will fill with experts on that subject emphatically correcting your idiotic advice. This is the goldmine. Scholars and experienced practitioners will clearly lay out everything you need to know about the subject. In many cases they will even debate amongst themselves, in doing so highlighting relevant controversies and opportunities for more research.
  4. If you need to drill down on a particular, simply challenge a expert with a qualified assertion like, “well that may be true, but then why X.” They will happily (angrily) get into the nitty-gritty.
  5. Take notes!
  6. When you feel satisfied with your expert tutorial, close out the thread by saying that you stand corrected, repeat back what you’ve heard (helps the commenters feel understood), and thank them for a new perspective. This is important. Experts spend most of their time arguing with other experts, so for them, the greatest feeling in the world is convincing somebody else that they are right. Since you are piggy-backing on their hard work, they deserve that gift.

This is how you troll for a world-class education.

I haven’t seen this method described anywhere else. Please correct me if I’m wrong.

To see trolling for education in action, check out this Reddit thread on avocados.

If free food doesn’t excite you, nothing will.

That’s about the least you can care about something. If an event boasts of free pie, you know they are in a low-care business. The conference room might be packed, but 99% people are just there for the food. When the food runs out, or the organizers ask people commit to anything (anything), the attendees will flock to the exit.

And of course, you avoid opportunities like that because you’d rather spend your time on something that you care about, pie-or-no-pie.

So that’s one end of the Care Spectrum. What would sit at the other end? What is the opposite of free pie?

How about a punch in the face?

Very few people would show up to an event that boasts it will punch every attendee in the face. In fact, let’s assume this event is extremely expensive as well. You might pay several thousand dollars to attend this event, and you will be punched directly in the face an uncertain number of times.

Very few attendees, indeed. But you can bet that whatever this event is about, the attendees care a whole hell of a lot about it. Whoever these attendees are, they are the experts and nerds, the pioneers and changemakers.

We all want to make a difference, until we get punched in the face a few times.

You might know exactly what you want to do. You might even be great at doing it.

But the question is, what are you willing to take hits for? Because this isn’t the end of the Care Spectrum: it’s the new beginning. This is the least you can care and still make a difference.

Which conferences do you show up for, punch or pie?

Want to learn more about how to care (and more importantly, not care) about the right stuff? Check out Mark Manson’s  The Subtle Art of Not Giving a Fuck.

When I was 8 I ate nothing but Goldfish and ice cream for a whole summer, just to get out of playing Little League.

In third grade, my grandma signed me up for Little League. She’d noticed that I spent all of my free time playing Sega Genesis and reading Calvin and Hobbes and (rightfully) insisted that I’d benefit from physical activity and socialization.

It did not go well.

There were two problems:

  1. I didn’t watch baseball.
  2. I didn’t care about winning.

As a result, I tried very hard to not try very hard. I’ll never forget the time I spent an at-bat slowly striking out while my coach barked from the dugout, “Choke up on your bat!”

I still don’t know what that means.

The last day of Little League season was Family Day, a full day potluck cookout. Each of the players’ families was responsible for bringing something for everybody on the team to eat. I asked my mom to buy a giant tub of Goldfish crackers, since that wouldn’t require any preparation. That, and napkins. People always need more napkins.

However, when Family Day arrived, I refused to go. I had already decided I was done with Little League, so why would I have lunch with teammates I didn’t care about? My mom was relieved, because she didn’t have to waste a day in the hot sun small-talking yuppie parents.

Thus, I spent the rest of the summer eating through that Family-size tub myself, handful by tiny handful.

I cared so little about League that I couldn’t even bother to show up to a potluck.

That’s about the least you can care about anything.