You're Not the Boss of Me

... and other possibly unpopular thoughts on well-meaning activists, participation trophies, and penis-shaped confetti

This week, one of my favorite members of the Disinformation Dozen, Nebraskan badass Dr. Ben Tapper, posted a 31-second Instagram reel advising his followers that he was once again on the brink of being banned and urging folks to follow him on X. It was not a fiery anti-mask rant or a plug for this political candidate or that one; it was a simple PSA. “Hey guys, here’s how to find me on a different platform if they disappear me here.” There was no polarizing topic broached; no controversial opinion stated.

But sometimes people just suck.

“Disappointed you as a ‘Christian’ [emphasis hers] is [improper verb choice also hers] too afraid to speak out on Palestine. I was wrong about you,” @pyreneesbig couldn’t stop herself from criticizing. (Disclaimer: I have no idea of @pyreneesbig’s gender but she sounds awfully Karenish you know it’s true don’t hate me because I have the balls to say it so I’m going with female since there’s at least a solid 1.35 percent chance* I’m right.

*Remember just yesterday when that would have been 50/50 but then they discovered decided that there were not two but 74 gender identities? Also did you know one of them “shares the quality or aesthetics of outer space,” WHAT DOES THAT EVEN MEAN? Whooboy, I know what I’m writing about next!

How does Dr. Tapper’s indignant follower know what he’s afraid of? Maybe he pontificates about Palestine routinely in his private life, which she unfortunately is uninvited to. Or maybe he doesn’t and has no plans to, which is his human prerogative and none of her goddamned business. And why does she think for a nanosecond that a stranger—a widely recognized and highly admired one at that—would give an actual rat’s ass about her unsolicited disappointment? Can you imagine showing up at work and calling your colleagues a bunch of selfish shmucks for not wearing feathers and sequins because it’s Carnival and you’re Brazilian?

(Actually if they did wear feathers and sequins, there’s a one hundred percent chance someone would accuse them of cultural appropriation why is the world so confusing anymore?)

My guess is that Pyreneesbig is part of the Participation Trophy Generation (PTG), an entitled cohort of twats who expect an award for showing up and behave as if God gave them whims so that other people would have something to cater to. The PTG is like penis-shaped confetti at a bachelorette party—annoying and unavoidable—but if you need to find a member of the flock fast, just look in the comments section of any social media post anywhere on the planet.

“You won’t shut up about the Covid vaccine, but you say nothing about women’s reproductive rights,” one PTGer accurately pointed out on one of my Facebook posts. “Shame on you!” I replied by noting that the list of things I’m not talking about at any given moment is a tiny bit larger (literally infinite) than the one thing I’ve chosen to focus on (most likely, the plandemic) and includes not only what women should and should not be allowed to do with their uteruses (which is a tough conversation to have when we can no longer even agree on what a woman is) but also underwater basket weaving, types and sizes of garden gnomes, competitive pillow fighting, and the secret language of penguins. There’s a lot of shit out there I spend a ton of time not writing about; I get exhausted just thinking about it.

Would anyone meeting Steven Spielberg use the opportunity to ream him a new one for not making rom-coms, or march in front of Chick-fil-A with a “Where’s the Beef?” sign, or tell Mariah Carey they were offended by her discography’s appalling lack of rap music? Never mind. As someone who’s spent a day or two in the actual world, I can confidently say there are more than a few raging, self-obsessed narcissists out there who absolutely would do all of those things and more, and how much do you want to bet every one of them has a shelf somewhere crammed with dusty participation trophies?

The same day I saw @pyreneesbig’s comment, a passionate freedom fighter and radio show host I’m friendly with (and who probably reads this substack; hi, Greg!) sent me a DM through Facebook. It was a link to his pet project, a bill that aims to make vaccine manufacturers liable for the injuries they cause. After listing off the well-known people who had essentially put his Baby-bill in a corner (MTG, Dr. Peter McCullough, and Senator Ron Johnson were called out in particular and with not a lot of forgiveness), my Pharma-fighting friend wrote this: “You and Pierre [Kory] and OANN and Newsmax and all the public figure doctors have to get behind this bill and get it into the national debate [emphasis mine].”

There is no question that I believe this to be a critical bit of legislature. And as you’d probably surmise, I support it unequivocally. For the record, I’m also pretty keen on freedom of speech, animal welfare, anything anti-Bill Gates, and Take Your Cat to Work Day (which is this Friday so mark your calendars! Also I just made that up; tell the others). Am I out raising awareness and mobilizing support for these issues all day every day? Don’t have the time and probably still wouldn’t if I did. Do I despise Billysoft or love the planet’s population of cats any less on my days off? Also no. Do *I* get to decide what to fight for and when? You bet your Declaration of Independence I do! Do I care if you think less of me for not making your personal crusades or sincerely held beliefs my own? Sorry but not even a microscopic bit. If that hurts your little feelings, feel free to tell your favorite participation trophy all about it.

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Let me be clear: The man behind this bill is a tireless advocate and we are hashtag-blessed to have him on our team. In fact, I was patently flattered that he lumped little old me into such a dynamic group of disrupters. But the reality of individual liberty is that not everyone on earth is going to feel equally moved to save the same endangered breed of tree frog or preserve your favorite forgotten fungi. As passionate as I am about ivermectin, for example, it never occurred to me to demand that everyone I know stop what they’re doing and take to the streets with a copy of my book and a megaphone. Some people (and I’m unambiguously one of them) just plain don’t like being told how to expend their precious emotional energy, or which missions they should feel are worth fighting for.

I explained to my pal as gently as I could that I am asked on a daily basis to support no fewer than a half dozen bills, campaigns, and causes, and that not every interview, article, or senate testimony is the perfect place to plug someone else’s agenda—especially when you have your own motives, goals, and priorities you’re focused on and you’ve only got a handful of column inches or minutes of airtime to make your point. He replied with a lovely note saying he understood and adding that if I ever needed help with anything, I should feel free to ask.

There’s a saying I love: Don’t should on anyone else and never let anyone should on you. (There’s also another saying I love: Opinions are like assholes. Everyone has one and they all stink.)

Can you imagine what a different response @pyreneesbig might have gotten if she had politely prodded Dr. Tapper, “As a Christian, I’d love to know your thoughts on Palestine”? Or if any of my many Facebook judges and jurors ever said, “let me know if I can get you any additional information on [my favorite cause] in case it comes up in your writing,” LIKE IT JUST DID FOR MY LIABILITY BILL BUDDY, would you look at that? Nicely played, sir.

At the risk of being labeled lazy, selfish, or indifferent, I plan to continue to pen columns on issues that move me. You can read them, ignore them, share them, disagree with them, or print them out and line your birdcage with them. As far as I’m concerned, the only thing you can’t do is dictate them. And when you start your own substack devoted to left-handed vegan librarians, I promise not to show up in the comment section and accuse you of elitism for ignoring lava lamp collectors and people who are allergic to leather.

This is a book. I wrote a bunch of it. If you enjoy my writing and are still fuming over the asshattery we’ve all been subjected to for going on four insane years now, there’s a 98% chance you’ll enjoy reading it.