Letter from the Editor

The who, what, and why of the NRP

Hello readers. Lotta stuff going on in the world, huh? Maybe you take a breather from the apocalypse? We are suspending our publication schedule this week to commemorate 100 issues and a full year of publishing the NRP.

Who?

I am the EIC, your poastmaster general, Dudley Newright. I’ll remain pseudonymous as long as possible, though I’ve made my peace with the inevitability of a doxxing, which will likely render me unemployable in my field. It’ll suck to lose my very comfortable fake email job that feeds my family, but what can I say? I’m highly disagreeable. I just gotta poast!

What?

Aggregating the most thought-provoking and funny ideas coming out of the subculture loosely known as the “New Right,” the “e-right” or the “dissident right.” Tradcaths, Nietzschean vitalists, Dimes Square art hoes, based semites, tradwives, Christian nationalists, pagan LARPers, race realists, eco-fascists, apocalpytic evangelicals, schizophrenic shut-ins, model minorities, BAPist bodybuilders, obese NEETs — all united under little more than an antipathy toward the grand liberal project, the Regime, the Cathedral, the Machine that wants to turn us all into drugged up, immiserated, tired, passive, deracinated, mindkilled, impotent, spiritually inert, atomized, gray goo’d, pod-dwelling, bug-eating, childless, individual consumers with no community from which to draw enough strength to oppose its inexorable march.

Pseudonymity makes for slow growth. Can’t hire an intern. Can’t crosspost to LinkedIn. Despite cheeky references to a “writing staff” and “editorial board,” this is, as you’ve surely guessed, a one-man show.

Despite these hurdles, the NRP is racking up a handful of new followers most days. Somehow, people are finding the NRP, which is lovely.

Why?

Years ago I moved to [Tier 1 City] because I wanted to be near the most interesting people in the world. The comedians, musicians, writers, startuppers, bloggers, creatives of all stripes. It was fun for a while. The vibe shift came pre-Trump — around 2013. Media outlets realized that churning out left-skewing bait allowed them to harvest boomer rageclicks. Creators in turn realized they could turbocharge their careers by complaining about “victim blaming” and “tech bros.” The people and institutions that make culture were totally captured by the stuff. It made them softer, dumber, slower. And in a world of constricting opportunities to make money on content, it was an obvious last gasp. We all saw the writing on the wall. Over time, the culture just slowed to a halt. All slop. Nothing transgressive. Fake, and indeed, gay. No fun.

Certainly not for me. I got outta there. Started a family. And boy did that radicalize. Nothing activates the almonds like being in charge of a few vulnerable, guileless children. You just want to give them a normal world, at least as normal as the one you grew up in. But you can’t.

Meanwhile, I’d been lurking this side of Twitter for years and it became increasingly clear that the cultural vitality forfeited by the institutions had been picked up by a loose collection of strange anonymous freaks and autists who were allowed to be as smart and funny and honest and perceptive as they could be, because nobody knew who they were. They had the freedom to notice, as someone once put it, resulting in the most vibrant subculture on the information superhighway today.

And I couldn’t believe nobody was documenting it.

What’s the goal?

I think the NRP could be a big deal someday. Paid writing staff, daily releases. Original features. On-the-ground tabloid reportage. Maybe an audio or video component. It’s unquestionable that the scene is mature enough to deserve its own Gawker.

So this thing needs to scale organically like, fifty-fold. I’m happy to keep it lean until then.

Alternatively, some based billionaire gives me a million bucks.

I’m waiting, billionaires.

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We return to our regularly scheduled poasting on Friday. Thank you for reading.