Sticky Messages

I’ve done my best to hide a valuable lesson inside today’s email

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“I was in hell. I knew all the salesman’s tricks. Why wasn’t I rich? Why wasn’t I successful? I opened the Bible, and I read the 18th Psalm. ‘The Lord is my rock and my fortress.’”

That’s from the “Christ in Commerce” sermon in Elmer Gantry, a 1960 film that I believe should be required viewing for anybody interested in copywriting, marketing, and influence.

Elmer Gantry should be required because fun should be required. And Elmer Gantry is a fun, loud, and entertaining film starring Burt Lancaster, possibly the most manly man of all time.

But Elmer Gantry should also be required because it’s about a huckster, a scammer, a traveling salesman turned revivalist preacher, once he figures out that preaching pays better than selling electric toasters.

Elmer Gantry tells of a time in US history that also gave birth to direct response advertising.

In fact, the Elmer Gantry type of big-tent sermonizing was a cousin discipline to direct response marketing.

​​It continues to be so to this day. Just think of people like Dan Kennedy and Tony Robbins — and the thousands of marketers who have learned from them — speaking in front of an audience of ten thousand, while a hungry sales team waits near the exits.

All right, that’s it for my email today. In case you’d like to learn how to write emails like this, you can find that inside my Most Valuable Email training. The link to that is below.

“Whoa there,” I hear you saying. “Why in the Elmer Gantry would I want to learn to write emails like this? Just something from an old movie? Where’s the cleverness or the conceit in that? Where’s the valuable marketing idea? What exactly did I learn here?”

I promise there’s a valuable idea in this email, and it’s not just that Elmer Gantry is a fun film.

Perhaps you can figure out this idea on your own.

In any case, you can find it explicitly explained in MVE #14 in the Most Valuable Email Swipes, which is something you get with core MVE training. In case you’re curious:

https://bejakovic.com/mve/

Gratuitous fun to make readers stand up and beg for buttermilk

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For the first 20 or 30 years of my life, I had this serious mental defect where I couldn’t enjoy a good bangemup action movie.

“So unrealistic,” I snuffled. “So predictable.” That’s how I wasted decades of my life.

Thank God I’ve grown up.

​​Because now I can watch and enjoy movies like True Lies, James Cameron’s 1994 action comedy.

​​True Lies stars Arnold Schwarzenegger as super spy/boring suburban dad Harry Tasker, and Jamie Lee Curtis as his stodgy/talented wife Helen.

The initial reason I watched True Lies was the following famous line. It’s delivered by a used car salesman who’s trying to seduce Helen and is unwittingly confiding to Harry about it:

“And she’s got the most incredible body, too, and a pair of titties that make you wanna stand up and beg for buttermilk. Ass like a ten year old boy!”

Which modern Hollywood screenplay would dare have that?

But even beyond the risky dialogue, I was surprised by how fun this movie is. I guess that’s the only word to describe it. For example, as the movie goes on, you get to see:

– an old man sitting on a public toilet, calmly reading a newspaper, during the first shootout between Harry and the bad guy

– Harry riding a horse into an elevator, and an aristocratic couple in the elevator getting whipped in the face by the horse’s tail

– Tia Carrere (the evil seductress in the movie) rushing to grab her purse before the bad guys drop a box with a nuclear warhead onto it

– a pelican landing on a teetering van full of terrorists and sending it crashing off the bridge

– Harry saving the day flying a military jet, perfectly landing the plane on a city street, and then accidentally bumping a cop car

The point is that all these details are what I call “gratuitous fun.”

They weren’t in any way central to the action of the movie… and even the comedic part of the plot could have done without them.

They were just pure, unnecessary fun that made the movie sparkle a bit more. And I guess they helped it become the success that it was, netting almost $400 million in 1994 dollars.

I think the message is clear:

This year, surprise your readers with some gratuitous fun in your online content, in your sales messages, and even your one-to-one business communication.

​​People love James Cameron’s movies. They will love your stuff, too. In fact, you’ll make them wanna stand up and beg for buttermilk. Whatever that means.

And if you are too close to your own marketing to know what “gratuitous fun” might look like… well, maybe you can get some ideas from my own marketing. If you like, you can sign up for my daily email newsletter here.

I just remembered Cialdini’s best way to teach anybody anything

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I’ve just awakened from a hypnotic trance.

I spent the last 16 minutes watching a video of a fridge repairman from Alabama disassembling a failed fridge compressor.

As my hypnotic trance cleared, I began to marvel at this mystery.

After all, I don’t have a fridge compressor to fix. And I’m not looking for DIY advice.

In fact, I have zero interest in fridges or handymanism. I wasn’t familiar with 95% of the technical terms the fridge guy was using. I really could gain nothing practical or pleasurable from his 16-minute video.

So why did I watch it, with rapt attention, from beginning to end?

Perhaps, you say, I was just looking to waste time instead of writing this email.

I certainly do like to waste time instead of working. But why not waste time doing something I like, like reading the New Yorker, or watching some Bill Burr on YouTube?

No, it wasn’t that.

But perhaps, you say again, I just enjoy feeling smug and right.

After all, the dead fridge compressor was from 2009. And the fridge repair guy specializes in maintaining long-running, old fridges that go back to the 1940s. So maybe I was just looking for confirmation of my belief that old is good and new is worthless.

Maybe. But if that’s the case, why did I have to watch the video, and all 16 minutes of it? I mean, the video’s title gave me all I really needed to feel smug:

“Declining quality of consumer-grade products – 2009 fridge compressor autopsy…”

So no, it can’t be that.

But perhaps I just wanted to share something cool with a friend.

Even though I have no interest in handymanism, I do have a friend who is into it. I wanted to forward him this video, and maybe, you say, I just wanted to make sure it was worthwhile.

But that doesn’t hold water either. After all, this video popped up on a news aggregator I frequent, where it got 2-3x the usual number of upvotes. That’s a lot of tacit endorsement of quality. And I could tell within just the first minute or two that my friend might find this video interesting, and that I should send him the link.

So why did I myself watch the entire thing?

In trying to figure out the answer to this puzzle, I jumped back to a critical point in the video at minute 5:54.

The fridge guy has just tested whether the compressor failed because of electrical failure. No, it turns out, it wasn’t electrical.

So he decides to cut open the locked-up compressor and see what’s going on inside. As soon as he cuts the compressor open, the motor moves freely, and is no longer locked up.

The fridge guy is in wonder.

“I don’t understand at all,” he says. He decides to try to power the compressor up again. “My guess is it still won’t start.”

“Aha!” I said. “I get it now!”

Because I realized what was going on. I realized why I had been sucked into this video so hypnotically.

It was the structure of the way the fridge guy was doing his compressor autopsy.

He was using the exact same structure I read about once. A very smart and influential professor of persuasion spelled out this structure in a book, and he said it’s the best way to present any new information and teach anyone anything.

I don’t know if the fridge repair guy had been secretly reading the work of this professor of persuasion.

But I do know that if you’re trying to teach anybody anything, whether in person, in your courses, or just in your marketing, then this structure is super valuable.

It makes it so people actually want to consume your material. They will even want to consume it all the way to the end (just look at me and that 16-minute fridge video).

This structure also makes it so the info you are teaching sticks in people’s heads. That way, they are more likely to use it, profit from it, and become grateful students and customers for life.

And this structure even makes it so people experience an “Aha moment,” just like I did. When that happens, people feel compelled to share their enthusiasm with others, just like I am doing now with you right now.

You might be curious about this structure and who this professor of persuasion is.

Well, I will tell you the guy’s name is Robert Cialdini. He is famous for writing the book Influence. But the structure I’m talking about is not described in Influence.

Instead, it’s described in another of Cialdini’s books, Pre-Suasion.

Now, if you read Daniel Throssell’s emails, you might know that Daniel advises people to skip Pre-Suasion. He even calls it the worst copywriting book he has ever read.

I don’t agree.

Because in Chapter 6 of Pre-Suasion, Cialdini spells out the exact structure I’ve been telling you about. Plus he gives you an example from his own teaching.

This is some hard-core how-to. ​And if you ever want to get information into people’s heads, and make it stick there, for their benefit as well as your own, you might find this how-to information very valuable.

In case you want it:

https://bejakovic.com/presuasion

Drop your phone in the toilet, grab a cup of coffee, and read this whole email word for word

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About two weeks ago, I got a surprise:

Dan Kennedy started sending me emails.

I’m not 100% how this happened. In the past, I’ve signed up for email newsletters on various DK websites.

​​As I’ve written before, I’m a big Dan Kennedy fan and I had high hopes.

But it always turned out the emails were not written by Dan. They were just random pitches for various DK stuff. Each time, I eventually ended up unsubscribing.

And yet, two weeks ago, I suddenly started getting emails from Dan again. And they are great.

I don’t think these new emails are actually written by Dan either, not now, not as emails. It’s probably just old Dan content, repurposed for the email format by some marketing monkey working under Russell Brunson, who has bought up Dan’s entire business.

Still, it’s great stuff, full of humor and valuable ideas. For example, here’s one bit from a recent DK email which caught my eye:

One of the great litmus tests of a newsletter is when yours arrives, are people so excited about it that they drop whatever they’re doing, take their phone and lock it in the trunk of their car, get a cup of coffee, then eagerly sit down to go through it? At least a quick skim to see what’s there and then say, “Tonight, when I have more time, I’m gonna read the whole thing word for word.” Is that how they react?

This caught my eye because last month, I launched my Most Valuable Postcard.

​​MVP is not a newsletter — really, it’s an un-newsletter. It covers tried-and-proven marketing principles rather than new techniques and tactics.

I was wondering how people would react to this approach, and to the format of the postcard. Well, initial reactions are starting to filter in.

One MVP subscriber, who shall remain unnamed, said that in the excitement of receiving her postcard, she ended up dropping her phone into the toilet (the phone survived).

​​Sure, a house is not a home, and a toilet is not a trunk. But it may be even better.

And as for reading the whole postcard word for word, MVP subscriber Jakub Červenka just wrote me to say:

Hey John,

Just wanted to let you know I just got your postcard. I am only half-way through your horror stories, but I am already sure you over-delivered on value.

And I have a feeling that your postcard newsletter thingie is case-in-point study in putting in work up front for your prospects.

I don’t have yet enough money / business big enough to be able to afford you, but you making this whole thing so personal, I cannot think of anyone I’d rather work with once I am launching my funnel in English market..

But in the meantime, I am pre-sold already on any copywriting course you may sell in future.

And my mind is already spinning trying to come up with ways I could use what I am learning from you into my business.

Thank you for inspiration, it is awesome!

Jakub has only read half the postcard so far. That’s hardly word-for-word reading… but as far a testimonial for MVP, I don’t think I could ask for anything better.

Still, I’m still not sure what to do with this project.

Like Jakub says, it’s very personal… but also very unscalable.

If I ever reopen this offer to new subscribers, I might tweak the format, and I will certainly increase the price.

But if that doesn’t turn you away, and you want the chance to lock your phone in your trunk or at least fumble it into the toilet when you get a postcard in the mail from me, you can sign up for my (free) daily email newsletter, so you can get notified if I reopen MVP again.

A fun and easy email about “appointment marketing”

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I’m in this bantering WhatsApp group with a few friends that I studied with. In the group, we exchange stupid jokes and tabloid headlines, and we reminisce about times spent drinking together.

I’m very happy to join in all that.

But sooner or later, the conversation turns to Netflix and the shows people are watching. Whenever this happens, I sit there, a frozen smile on my face, with nothing to contribute, quietly desperate inside, waiting for the storm to pass.

I stopped watching TV a long time ago, and I completely missed out on the streaming revolution. I never got into any of the millions of streaming shows.

I wish my friends never got into them either, so I wouldn’t have to sit on the sidelines during the latest rounds of, “It was soooooo good, you should check it out!”

So it was with some malicious glee today that I read an article on Vulture, about Netflix’s recent troubles.

The article came out late last month, on the heels of news that Netflix lost subscribers for the first time in 10 years. Netflix’s stock price dropped 35% as a result, erasing over $50 billion worth of value in one day.

“Good,” I cackled to myself, rubbing my hands together. ​​

But you know what? I might not watch Netflix, but I do care what they do as a company.

Because like Ben Settle has been pointing out for years, we have entered the age of entertainment. Today, not only your education or selling, but even your entertainment, needs to be presold through entertainment and still more entertainment.

And who better to learn from than the hottest entertainment provider today? That’s why I figure Netflix’s hits and misses are both worth studying.

The Vulture article gives an interesting analysis of what has been going wrong at Netflix. The article deserves digging up and reading in full. Here I will share just one fun and easy thing with you.

Netflix innovated binge watching. All episodes of a show were dumped to the public at the same time.

That means you can spend a weekend in bed, eating Nutella out of the jar, and watching episode after episode of Bridgerton until nausea sets in, either from the show or from Nutella.

But while binge watching got Netflix a cult of rabid fans to start, it has its drawbacks, which are now surfacing.

One drawback is obvious. The lifetime of a binged show tends to be short.

The second drawback is less obvious. Many people like the opposite of binge watching, something the Vulture article calls “appointment TV.”

For example, knowing (once upon a time) that Seinfeld is coming on at 9pm every Thursday isn’t just about having a ritual for a Thursday evening for an entire year.

It also creates expectation and excitement.

It allows viewers to bond with their friends who are also watching the same show.

And maybe most important, it allows people the pleasure of sharing and converting others, getting you free publicity, and money money money.

So what exactly am I telling you to do?

Absolutely nothing.

​​In fact, if you remember anything from this email, remember my disappointed face whenever I hear the conversation turn to Netflix recommendations… and remember my fiendish cackling whenever I read about Neflix’s troubles.

Because I figure that for anything like “appointment marketing” to work, it takes more than just a regular schedule.

The content itself must be fun and easy. Even a hint of work or seriousness is probably deadly.

So in the interest of having you go on Twitter to share the latest Bejako email… or tell your friends that my newsletter is soooooo good and they havetocheckitout… I will stop myself here. And I will go peek in my WhatsApp group, maybe for some political memes to make me chuckle.

And on the next episode of Bejako…

Well, that episode will air tomorrow, at around 8pm CET, in your inbox, in case you sign up for my fun and easy email newsletter.

Tell, don’t show

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Among copywriters, the most famous movie of all time is Lethal Weapon. That’s because Gene Schwartz, the author of Breakthrough Advertising, which is something like a bible in the field, once said that every copywriter should watch Lethal Weapon at least two or three times, preferably back to back.

Gene was recommending Lethal Weapon because of its BANG-talk-BOOM-talk-JOKE-BANG-BOOM-talk structure.

But Lethal Weapon is an influence gift that keeps on giving. For example:

In one early scene, we see Martin Riggs, a cop played by Mel Gibson, in the middle of a Christmas tree lot. Riggs is being used as a human shield by a cornered drug dealer, who is pointing a gun at Riggs’s head.

Riggs starts yelling to the gathering cops, who all have their guns out. “Shoot him! Shoot the bastard!”

The drug dealer is getting flustered. He begs Riggs to shut up.

​​Riggs keeps yelling. And in a flash, he turns around, grabs the gun from the drug dealer, headbutts him, and ends the standoff.

​​Next scene:

W​e see the same Martin Riggs, in his ramshackle trailer by the beach, late at night. He’s drinking and looking at a framed wedding photo of himself and his wife.

Riggs takes his gun and puts it inside his mouth. He tries to pull the trigger, but he can’t. He starts crying. “Oh, I miss you,” Riggs says to the picture.

Are you getting an idea of what kind of character Martin Riggs might be?

I hope so.

But in case not, there’s one more scene I want to tell you about. In fact, it’s the very next scene in the movie:

The police office psychologist is walking with the police captain through the police station. “May I remind you,” she says to the captain, “that his wife of 11 years was recently killed in a car accident? He’s on the edge, sir. I’m telling you he may be psychotic. You’re making a mistake by keeping him in the field. The man is suicidal.”

So now let me point out the obvious:

Probably the most famous bit of writing advice is to show and not tell.

And it’s good advice.

It’s almost as good as the advice to both show and tell, which is what’s happening in those Lethal Weapon scenes.

Because with buddy cop comedies, sales copy, and with influential writing as well, we are really not looking for people to draw their own conclusions.

Sure, it’s great if they conclude what we want them to, on their own. And that’s why we show them stuff.

But you don’t want to leave it there. You don’t want to give people any wiggle room. So that’s why you tell them your point as well as show it.

What? You say you knew that already? Or you say it’s so obvious that it doesn’t need to be pointed out?

Fine. So let me tell you something else, which might be genuinely new:

You can tell people stuff. Including stuff that’s not supported by the emotional visualization you just showed them.

Because an emotion is like syrup. It can be poured over anything… and once it’s poured onto the pancakes, it’s likely to spread all over the plate, to the sausages also.

That’s a super valuable idea, if you only grasp it.

​​In fact, all my emails are chock full of such super valuable ideas. If you want me to show you as well as tell you that, sign up for my newsletter here.

I’m sorry Ms. Jackson

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This one right here goes out to all the email copywriters… the business owners who write their own emails… maybe even those with a YouTube channel.

Here’s the story:​​

A few weeks ago, a music industry insider named Ted Gioia made a big splash by writing an article with the title:

“Is Old Music Killing New Music?”

Gioia had a bunch of stats and anecdotes to prove that old music — stuff that came out 20, 30, 40, 50, 60 years ago — is crowding out the new music being produced today.

Gioia has his theory for why this is.

Basically, he says, record company execs just wants to get a piece of the American pie to take their bite out. So they keep giving people tried-and-true stuff. They’re not willing to take risks.

It’s short-term thinking, Gioia says. Because ironically, the execs are making themselves irrelevant in the process. But one way or another, the fact remains, in Gioia’s words:

“Never before in history have new tracks attained hit status while generating so little cultural impact.”

In my own uninformed yet subjective opinion, this is part of a bigger trend.

It’s not only music that’s getting old. I think it’s movies also, and perhaps other pop culture too.

This matters for marketers.

Because from what I’ve seen writing approximately a billion sales emails… pop culture always gets a great response.

Pop culture references turns you into a magician who can abracadabra a sales point… get people to enjoy it… and maybe even get them to buy.

So what exactly am I telling you?

Well, it’s the same thing that some 40 years ago, A-list copywriter Gene Schwartz said:

“If a movie does a hundred million dollars or more, especially a movie that does two hundred or three hundred million dollars or more, I would go to it two or three times.”

This is a good idea today just as it was in Gene’s time.

Go see blockbusters. But make sure you see the same ones that Gene was talking about, like Lethal Weapon and Home Alone and Pulp Fiction.

In other words, don’t take risks with any of this new stuff. Give people the tried-and-true. And keep doing it. Forever. Forever-ever. For-EVER-ever.

“Whoa there Bejako,” you say. ​”You’ve been handing out a lot of careless and maybe even harmful advice lately.”

Oh yeah, like what?​

“Well, like ​first you said to bet on the Bengals for the Super Bowl. We know how that turned out. Then a couple days ago you almost got me sucked into QAnon.”

That was an honest mistake.
​
“Whatever. The point is, now you’re telling me to pander to my audience with references to Fleetwood Mac and Kill Bill. But isn’t this the same short-term thinking as those record company execs? Won’t I be making myself irrelevant in the process?”

I don’t know. You might be right. I might be wrong. So all I can say is:

I’m sorry dear reader. I am for real. Never meant to send you bad advice. I apologize a trillion times.

But I’ll do more than apologize.

I’ll tell you how to avoid pandering and talk about pop culture your audience isn’t familiar with, without taking much of a risk. That’s in my email tomorrow. I hope you’ll read it. You and your mama.

G is for Gavin mauled by a wild cat

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Once upon a time, there lived a human being named Gavin.

One day, Gavin was walking through the jungle. Suddenly he froze. His eyes got wide. His mouth hung open. Blood drained out of his face.

What was that in the bushes ahead? It looked like a tiger’s shifting green eyes.

But a moment later, Gavin relaxed. He realized what he was seeing. It was just berries, hanging from a branch.

A bit later, it happened again. Gavin stopped mid-step. He thought he saw tiger eyes in the shadows. But his own eyes and his brain were better adapted this time. It was more fruit. He chuckled at himself and kept walking.

And a few moments later, it happened yet again. Gavin thought he saw a tiger’s eyes in the bushes. But this time he just shook his head and didn’t even slow down. He walked right up to the bush where the tiger was hiding. Gavin died, age 13, victim of a tiger mauling, never having sired any children.

Today, I want to give you a design and branding and maybe copywriting tip.

It’s based on idea I got from cognitive scientist Donald Hoffman. Hoffman says our brains and eyes quickly get used to most stimuli. That’s why I often stand for ages in front of the fridge, trying to find the olive jar I know must be in there… which turns out to be right on the shelf in front of me, in full view.

This is a feature, not a bug. It makes no sense to keep noticing familiar things. Except…

There are some things we never get habituated to.

One of these is animals. Or even animal bits are enough.

An eye. A tail. A tooth.

Hoffman says our brains never get fully habituated to these stimuli. Well, in general that’s true. There were people like Gavin whose eyes and brains did get habituated to seeing animal bits… and we never heard from these people again.

So that’s the design and branding tip Hoffman gives.

If you want to design packaging or create a logo for your brand, find a subtle way to trick the eye. Make it think it might be seeing an animal hiding on the shelf or inside the computer screen.

However many times people see your design or you logo, they will notice it, yet again.

Because animals are hard-wired into our biology. And so are people. Which is my copywriting tip for you for today.

If you have something important — but abstract — to teach people, make sure you wrap it up in a person. For example, here’s how Edward Gorey helped kids learn their ABCs — and how you can too:

A is for Amy who fell down the stairs
B is for Basil assaulted by bears
C is for Clara who wasted away
D is for Desmond thrown out of a sleigh
E is for Ernest who choked on a peach
F is for Fanny sucked dry by a leech
…

Want more marketing ABCs, wrapped up in a person-sandwich? Then hold back your habituation to being pitched, and follow my lead here.

Deadline in the air tonight

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“You know the song by Phil Collins, ‘In the Air of the Night’
About that guy who coulda saved that other guy from drownin’
But didn’t, then Phil saw it all, then at a show he found him?”
– Eminem, Stan

I just found out that Phil Collins’s famous hit In The Air Tonight is not about a drowning that Phil witnessed. I thought it was for years, apparently like Eminem and millions of other people. But no. It turns out to be just an urban legend. Says Phil:

“So what makes it even more comical is when I hear these stories which started many years ago, particularly in America, of someone come up to me and say, ‘Did you really see someone drowning?’ I said, ‘No, wrong.’ And then every time I go back to America the story gets Chinese whispers, it gets more and more elaborate. It’s so frustrating, ’cause this is one song out of all the songs probably that I’ve ever written that I really don’t know what it’s about, you know?”

I know, Phil. It’s gotta be frustrating. Still, it’s a hell of a story… and maybe you should have kept quiet about the bland real origin of the song.

But whatever. Phil can’t hear me. Maybe you can. So let me admit why I bring all this up:

In The Air Tonight has been playing in my head all evening long. In part, because it’s getting late. In part, because I don’t want to be accused, like that mysterious person in Phil’s song, of standing by and not lending a hand to a drowning man.

So here’s me, making a last effort to help you out:

The deadline to enroll in my Copy Riddles program is nearing. The cart will close in a few hours, at midnight PST.

Maybe you couldn’t care less and you’re just fine, right where you are. But if you have any interest in enrolling in Copy Riddles, consider this a lifebuoy I’m throwing you. To grab it and use it while there’s still time:

https://copyriddles.com/

Fake stories in copy

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A man sat down at a classy restaurant. It looked great.

There was a plant next to his table. A big ficus.

“I’ve got one of these at home,” the man said. He passed his fingers over the leaves and—

He realized they were plastic.

The plant looked real, but it was fake. In fact, on closer examination, the man realized the plant looked fake also. There were things that gave it away.

Suddenly, the man found himself questioning the whole restaurant, even before he had a chance to order.

Speaking of ordering, I got a couple questions recently. They were on the topic of, “What do you think of using fake stories in your copy?”

One question had to do with the claim that fake stories are illegal to use.

I don’t know about that. I’m not a lawyer. But I doubt it’s illegal. At most, I think you might have to add some kind of disclaimer, like they do at the bottom of TV commercials. “These are paid fitness models, and they have never used the Ab Rocket and would in fact never use the Ab Rocket.”

So I don’t have a problem with fake stories from a legal standpoint. But I have a problem with them just because they sound fake and made up. Because people will spot a fake story, just like they will spot a fake plant. And then they will doubt everything that follows.

“But what about parables and fairy tales?” That was the second question I got on this topic.

That’s something completely different, I think. Parables are powerful. Pop culture illustrations are great also, even if they come from a comic book or superhero movie. Fairy tales work too, whether you made them up or somebody else did.

The key is the subtext.

A fake plant in a restaurant signals tackiness and makes you doubt the quality of the food.

A fake plant as part of theatrical scenery, during an engrossing play that leaves you with some sort of lingering moral… that’s a welcome aid to imagination, understanding, and maybe, to being persuaded.

Now if you feel persuaded by this fairy tale:

You might like to read some other stuff I write. In that case, you can sign up for my email newsletter.