How Every WrylyReilly Article is Written
Wow he has a surprising amount to say, causing me to chuckle, skim half of it, and then wonder how much free time he has
“Nothing frustrates me more than when someone who reads something of mine or anyone else’s and says, angrily, “I don’t buy it.” Why are they angry? Good writing does not succeed or fail on the strength of its ability to persuade. It succeeds or fails on the strength of its ability to engage you, to make you think, to give you a glimpse into someone else’s head— even if in the end you conclude that someone else’s head is not a place you’d really like to be.” -Malcolm Gladwell
The story behind the Shire shark attack scene that was cut from The Fellowship of the Ring at the 11th hour isn’t just one of the most misunderstood moments in film history; it’s one of the most overlooked events in human history.
Unfortunately, there never was a shark attack scene in the screenplay for any of the Lord of the Rings movies, a real oversight in my opinion, not that anyone asked for it, a phrase that would incidentally be a decent synopsis for this entire blog.
Did you know that all men with explanations about why everyone is wrong except for them are obviously wrong, except for me? That just might be the most hypocritical sentence you’ve ever heard since Obi Wan uttered the iconic “only a Sith deals in absolutes.” Yes, I too have blindspots bigger than a Peterbilt truck. Wait, was that a reference to my brother, my dad, or the trucking industry? You do the math.
Confused? Don’t be. All you need to know is that when the clock strikes twelve on Friday it’s time for me to authoritatively and wittily hold court on a pantheon of subjects so diverse in scope and tone that you’ll stop and ask yourself: wait, how do you know all this again—did you like study this stuff? What do you even do for a living? Some weeks, I’m not even sure any more.
What I am sure about is that every seemingly insignificant shard of trivia is actually a fascinating microcosm of a bigger social phenomena, Malcolm Gladwell is always wrong, Andrew Huberman is annoying but mostly right, and it’s never too soon to use another quirky analogy to distill our fascinating and frustrating world into a cute metaphor with a fairly obvious takeaway about the value of nuance, the dangers of capitalism, and the joy of cinema in the 2000s.
Wow, that sentence sure was long, wasn’t it?
That wasn’t actually a question, but a test. If you’re hoping for shorter sentences or articles for that matter, I’d suggest you stop reading immediately. Exactly how long-winded are these articles? Let’s just say if the federal government ever starts rationing commas I’ll have to find another hobby.
Still with me? Then get ready for me to use a few more analogies to fuel gloriously circuitous paragraphs like Marshawn Lynch used Skittles to fuel gloriously circuitous touchdown runs. You read that right, this nerd still watches football for some reason, despite the near deafening levels of cognitive dissonance it causes him annually.
Do you like diet intellectual concepts like "cognitive dissonance,” and somewhat pretentious verbs like “venerate” and “juxtapose?” Good, because by the end of this piece you’ll wish you’d never had to hear the words “microcosm” or “epitomizes” again in the same way you wish to never have to hear the phrase “small plates” and “craft cocktails” after spending more than a few days dining in Brooklyn.
Yes, I will poke fun at New York, a city I love to visit but could never live in in the same way that I will roast the Bay Area, an area I love to live in but suspect I’d hate if I hadn’t grown up here. Is it just me or is every US City now widely known to be terrible and unlivable, our economy makes no sense, makes very few things for that matter, but does seem to reliably make everyone miserable, even and especially the successful people?
On the plus side, the sun too will eventually die, not that any of us will be alive to see it, a real shame since this event would likely produce a great new crop of pithy podcasts and Substack articles.
Oh, sorry I started doing that articulately phrased pessimistic tangent thing again. My bad.
Enough digressions! This rambling intro has gone on for long enough— what exactly is this article about, anyway?
Remember that moderately interesting, somewhat coherent, unsolicited monologue I went on the other day about:
An obscure caucasian hobby like Spikeball, skimboarding, or brewing kombucha
A movie I irrationally love or popular trend I irrationally hate
A quirky factoid I picked up from a recent podcast and/or documentary and/or NPR story and expanded into a half-baked armchair philosophy for life
A widely held critique of Silicon Valley bro culture, late stage capitalism, or popular nonfiction books
How sharks actually explain the need for sociology, the sociology of sharks, or the social lives of the screenwriters behind Sharknado
Well, this post is basically that but funnier, more articulate, and less repetitive.
The fact is, if you’re a friend of mine, it’s likely you’ve heard the kernel of this article already over drinks, dinner, or the drive to Mendocino because there’s nothing thirty something white people in the Bay Area love more than heatedly discussing podcasts and blogs while driving to Mendocino.
Maybe I should write an article about Mendocino next. I could call it “Mendocino Misconceptions: The Foggy Truth About the Bay Area’s Favorite Getaway.” Other contenders for titles are “Kelp! (I Need Somebody),” “Redwood Renaissance,” and “Great White Gentrification: Attack of the Yuppies.” If you’ve got any Mendocino history, hot takes, or fun facts please share them, knowing I’ll likely incorporate them into my blog without ever directly crediting you. Sorry, Alexis.
Alas, I have unapologetically digressed again, another turn of phrase that’s actually a decent summary of my entire Substack.
When you’re as obsessive about verbosely discussing everything with the vigor of a try hard college Freshman at a rural liberal arts school as I am, these pieces basically write themselves. By that I mean all it takes is an average of five hours of caffeinated drafting, four hours of anxious editing, three existential crises, two emails to my career coach and/or therapist, and one inescapable feeling that no one actually reads these.
To save time, I wonder if I could train an AI to write this blog for me so I could spend more time on aforementioned esoteric hobbies. Or I could just share my takedown of AI next: “AI, Say Aye: How My Doubts About Robo-writing Are Yay High.”
Oof, that one is not ready for prime time. You know, thinking of all these cute alliterative titles is harder than you might imagine. A robot certainly couldn’t write them, right? Right?!
The honest truth is that I may not have something perfect enough to publish this week, which, to be honest, is what I tell myself every week.
Maybe instead I’ll take the easy way out and write a metafictional self-depricating satire post to buy time so I can finally think of something truly great and worth sharing.
At least, that sounds like something the wry guy might try.
This is what is like to live in the mind of Reilly
You are a terrific writer, provocateur, and synthesizer, as evidenced by my continuing to read after seeing "Malcolm Gladwell," not my favorite dude. But I persisted and was rewarded! Thanks!