The Silly Math of Going Viral

Greeting earthlings,

As this newsletter has evolved to align with my evolving interest in “Leverage” I’ve become more and more of a student of the media game.

Because media has no marginal cost of replication (it takes just as long to write a tweet viewed by 10 as 10,000,000), media can create enormous leverage and is worthy of deep examination by leverage obsessives (like me).

I’ve gravitated towards Twitter as my platform of choice - simply because I enjoy it, which means I’ll do it more!

Being on video pretending to be profound in 30 second increments sounds like hell to me, which has kept me out of the short form video game (perhaps to my overall reach’s detriment).

This week, I was browsing at 5AM before the house woke up (cheap dopamine FLOWING through my veins), and saw the below tweet from Eric (which current has 973,000 views):

I didn’t have a particularly strong or informed opinion about the content of the tweet - but I figured,

“Hey, let me give my old buddy Eric a hard time - maybe I’ll get a laugh out of him”.

So in about 42 seconds, I tapped this out - just trying to make myself laugh (which is pretty much all I ever try to do…if you haven’t noticed).

As of today, this stupid tweet now has 828,000 views and 474 comments.

Yowza!

For reference, that is 9 stadiums that look like this:

I don’t know the math - but that tweet also probably (indirectly) made me tens of thousands of dollars.

I occasionally monetize my reach, and each subscriber on Twitter, and here - has some dollar amount prescribed to them (don’t know what it is).

I’m not talking ad views for .001 cents or whatever - I mean big high ticket business stuff.

A bunch of people started following me, joining my newsletter, etc - because of that silly tweet.

I even had a few friends from high school and college reach out after seeing it saying “Dude, sounds like you are living well!”.

So, what conclusion should be drawn from this silliness?

• Media leverage should be taken seriously. You never know when this kind of thing is going to hit. I use Vivaldi to pump out my meat and potatoes content, so when something like this pops off I have a lot of real stuff on my profile that people dig into. I want them to discover me with silliness or whatever, then realize “Oh this dude is worth following for business”.

• The temptation to chase this kind of faux, short term high is real. It’s what leads to all these vapid gurus pitching a mastermind to exaggerate their business’ numbers, chasing virality, and degenerating into the thinnest veneer of reputability.

• Would you rather have 50,000,000 middle schoolers from West Africa follow you, or 100 Fortune 500 CEOs? Write to attract the people you want. If you want a lot of followers it’s easy. Talk about how to get started with no money, exaggerate your accomplishments, and speak to the lowest common denominator. Your followers will grow, but the real adults will laugh at you and stay away.

• You have to learn to play the game, and learn the nuances of the platform. For obvious reasons, that tweet wouldn’t have done well on LinkedIn. I’ve tweeted 15,000 times. You have to learn the meta of the platform. That’s why crossposting (without adaptation to the platform) doesn’t work. Can you imagine a tik tok style video working on Twitter? Yea - me neither.

• Authenticity above all else. First, people (generally) can spot bullshitters, and those that can’t aren’t worth getting to know. Second, find a medium you enjoy so you’ll stick with it. I enjoy writing tweets and newsletters, so I’m happy to keep at it, even if nobody pays attention.

• I write for ME. My next tweet after this one I enjoyed tremendously. Took me down memory lane. I don’t really care if anyone reads it - its like a journal entry in my mind.

Yallah Habibi,

Jon

Writing the above tweet made me nostalgic for that side of the world, so I’m including one of my favorite songs from Rahat Fatah Ali Khan, skip forward to 6:01 for his very famous “Qawwali” singing style.

Passage of the Week

To be of use

By Marge Piercy

The people I love the best
jump into work head first
without dallying in the shallows
and swim off with sure strokes almost out of sight.
They seem to become natives of that element,
the black sleek heads of seals
bouncing like half-submerged balls.

I love people who harness themselves, an ox to a heavy cart,
who pull like water buffalo, with massive patience,
who strain in the mud and the muck to move things forward,
who do what has to be done, again and again.

I want to be with people who submerge
in the task, who go into the fields to harvest
and work in a row and pass the bags along,
who are not parlor generals and field deserters
but move in a common rhythm
when the food must come in or the fire be put out.

The work of the world is common as mud.
Botched, it smears the hands, crumbles to dust.
But the thing worth doing well done
has a shape that satisfies, clean and evident.
Greek amphoras for wine or oil,
Hopi vases that held corn, are put in museums
but you know they were made to be used.
The pitcher cries for water to carry
and a person for work that is real.