Making a living in the creative economy is next to impossible. The savvy creator must therefore look for opportunities to monetize their work in any way they can.

So when I approached fellow satirist, Amran Gowani, to see if he wanted to get in on what I thought could be a revolutionary (and lucrative) media opportunity, he responded with an emphatic, Hell yeah!

Fellow creatives, you’re going to want to get in on this once-in-a-lifetime opportunity too.

Introducing our groundbreaking new series: The Real Househusbands of Substack.

The Background

Carlos: Many of you know I have zero ethical principles, especially when it comes to shilling for brands. Which is why, a few months ago, I announced that Shades of Greaves, my weekly newsletter of satire, curiosity-driven personal essays, and unserious writing advice, would be sponsored by Raytheon Technologies. Unfortunately, you cheap bastards aren’t buying nearly enough Tomahawk missiles for me to earn a living from affiliate marketing alone. Factor in the paltry sum I earn from publishing humor in the New Yorker and McSweeney’s and sales of my satirical, movie-themed story collection, Spoilers, and it was clear I’d have to resort to other measures to make ends meet.

I was chatting with my buddy Amran Gowani — the only writer I know who’s as unscrupulous as I am — and it turned out he was in the same boat. We’re both married men who are only able to chase the writing pipe dream thanks to our hard-working, bread-winning, and endlessly patient wives. That’s when it hit us: What if our deadbeatness was actually our greatest strength? What if the key to making money was by leaning into our roles of doing absolutely nothing productive?

Amran: Spot on, Carlos. And thanks for the generous introduction. For the last two years I’ve written a weekly-ish newsletter called Field Research, which features a caustic carousel of satire, humor, parenting riffs, gonzo journalism, and personal essays. As it turns out, the all-knowing “market” isn’t especially interested in the demented musings of a middle-aged dad, and my creative output has been priced at approximately $0.00 per year.

At one point last fall I was so desperate to generate revenue — and save my marriage — I reached out to the legendary Jane Friedman to diagnose my newsletter’s financial woes. One look at my webpage and her exact words were: “Bruh, your content blows and your monetization strategy sucks ass. Nobody’s gonna pay for this dogshit.”

Luckily for me, the traditional publishing industry is so irreparably broken and morally bankrupt a major imprint ponied up just enough for my debut novel to stop my wife from divorcing me. Now I plan to use my newfound chump change and continued cultural irrelevance to achieve my true goal: becoming a toxic, thirsty Trad Dad who does the absolute most on reality TV.

Carlos: Hence, we made the call to Bravo.

The Pitch

Amran: After speaking to like twenty AI assistants, we finally scheduled a meeting with two dipshits from Bravo’s reality TV division, who may have also been generated using glorified linear regression software. Carlos kicked things off with our elevator pitch.

Carlos: “If you thought bored housewives in New Jersey were catty, wait ‘til we tell you about a place that has more beef than a butcher shop. It’s called Substack…”

The Bravo executives listened intently, then the tall, brown-haired gangly one politely explained: “We love the idea, but unfortunately, our franchise is all maxed out. Take a look at our programming data showing the number of Real Housewives shows in existence by year.”

He handed me the following chart:

“As you can see from the chart,” he continued, clearly very proud of himself, “2024 is the year with the highest number of Real Housewives shows because it is the tallest bar on the chart. Therefore, we can’t make any more shows.”

Amran: I took one look at this duncecap’s diagram, channeled the combined power of our respective STEM backgrounds, and said, “Did you drop out of middle school, or were you dropped too many times as a baby?”

Carlos: Then I grabbed a red sharpie from the table and drew a line to spell it out for them:

Amran: They still didn’t get it, which wasn’t surprising given the problem-solving ability of the average network executive. After some trivial number crunching, Carlos cooked up another analysis:

Carlos: I explained, “For the past eighteen years, the Real Housewives franchise has grown at an exponential rate. This is not surprising. Scripted television remains expensive to make thanks to those greedy writers and actors insisting that they be paid. And Americans continue to crave escapist, lowest common denominator, reality nonsense as the nation slides deeper and deeper into moral decrepitude.”

Amran: “Expanding the franchise to Househusbands and Housespouses would add crossover appeal, allowing you to reach audience demographics you didn’t even know existed,” I added. “For example: Racists for reparations…”

Carlos: “Black Sufjan Stevens fans…”

Amran: “TradCath juggalos…”

Carlos: “People who like Ted Cruz as a person…you get the idea.”

Amran: “The permutations and possibilities are endless,” I continued. “Like the Substack platform itself, the TRHHoS franchise will perfectly thread the culture war needle by appealing to feminists, men’s rights activists, DEI advocates, and neo-eugenicists — at the same time.”

“The biggest difference is TRHHoS won’t be forced to rely upon the disingenuous and fundamentally broken ‘one thousand true fans’ business model. Instead, thanks to the indefatigable power of advertising, we’ll actually make some goddamn money.”

Carlos: “Furthermore, our analytics suggest demand for Real Housespouse content will only continue to accelerate, such that, by 2050, the market could easily sustain over 1,500 unique Real Housespouse shows airing concurrently across Bravo, Bravo+ (it’s only a matter of time), Brava (for the ladies), Bravx (to appeal beyond the gender paradigm), and Brovo (to reach straight men by featuring the exact same lineup of reality shows but with more ads for Callaway golf clubs and Cialis).”

Amran: “And don’t forget possible spin-offs like Vanderstack Rules and Vanderstack Rules: Viral Notes! Think of the merchandising potential!”

Carlos: Their jaws dropped. “Mother of God. They’re right,” gasped the portly bald one. Minutes later, we’d signed a contract for five full seasons.

Amran: Since then, our lives have been completely upended. I’m now a brand ambassador for Lululemon, Pampers, and Smith & Wesson.

Carlos: And I’m the new face of Cash for Gold, infrared face masks, and Fortnite. 

Amran: Most gratifying of all, our wives told us they’re not disappointed with us anymore. They’re now disappointed with themselves.

Casting Call

Carlos: With Bravo greenlighting TRHHoS, we’ve hired Steven Seagal and the guy who directed the John Wick movies to handle fight choreography. Now we just need you.

Amran: Here’s who we’re looking for:

• Writers of all gender identities; we embrace anyone who embodies the spirit of a househusband — as long as you’re a delinquent spouse who neither brings home the bacon nor takes care of the kids, you’re in

• Your newsletter makes less than five figures, preferably three (anyone who’s actually successful on this platform can fuck right off)

• You were gullible enough to become a Substack “investor”

• You have a penchant for starting petty beef

• You tell everyone you “quit social media,” yet you spend an unhealthy amount of time posting faux-inspirational memes on Substack Notes

• You love to argue in bad faith using cherry-picked, incomplete, fabricated, and/or no data

• You’re incapable of experiencing shame

Carlos: To give you a sense of what a typical episode will look like, check out this snippet from the pilot we filmed:

INT. JUICE BAR — MORNING

Carlos and Amran, clad head to toe in athleisure, sip smoothies following a rigorous yoga class, and reflect on their publishing dreams.

Amran: “Can you believe we’ll both be published authors soon? A far cry from our science and engineering days, huh?”

Carlos: I know, right? Also, I think it’s so brave of you to go the traditional publishing route considering 96% of books sell less than 1,000 copies. But, hey, I’m sure you’ll be one of the lucky ones who earns out their advance.

Amran winces.

CUT TO:

INT. CAMERA CONFESSIONAL — MORNING

Amran: That motherfucker better watch his sorry, self-published back.

CUT TO:

INT. JUICE BAR — MORNING

Amran: Thanks, Carlos. It’s a tough business, but fingers crossed, right? And I just want to commend you for self-publishing your book. It takes a lot of courage to put your work into the world, especially when no respectable agent or publisher would touch it.

Carlos gasps.

CUT TO:

INT. CAMERA CONFESSIONAL — MORNING

Carlos: Aww, hell no.

CUT TO:

INT. JUICE BAR — MORNING

Carlos: “That’s not true, you limp-dicked liar! I just wanted greater autonomy over the project and self-publishing felt like a better fit!”

Amran: “Self-publishing only works for romance novels and replacement theory manifestos. But keep rationalizing, I’ll wait.”

Carlos: “Well enjoy your measly 7.5% royalties, asshole! Not that you’ll ever earn out!”

Amran: “At least I’m getting paid with prestige! Can’t say the same for your broke-ass essay collection.”

Carlos: “Traditional publishing is dead, you raggedy bitch! Nobody buys books anymore.”

Amran: “Look at your open-rate, dickhead! Nobody reads anything anymore!”

Carlos and Amran exchange slaps, then lock arms and grapple awkwardly. They tussle back and forth until they crash into the smoothie machine and get doused in Banana Mama Jama protein shakes. The cashier calls the police.

Amran: That was incredible stuff, Carlos! I can’t believe you resurrected that drama about traditional vs. self-publishing. As if all books weren’t utterly doomed! Anyway, next time, pull your slaps a little, huh? Middle-age hasn’t been kind to me.

Carlos: You too, man! The line about replacement theory manifestos was inspired. But I hear you. My knees are killing me. Now I know why Hollywood actors use stunt doubles.

Amran: Man, I’m super excited for people to watch the full season. My wife thought “unemployed blogger with pitiful Instagram following” was my personal and professional nadir, but she never learns.

Carlos: Just wait ‘til she sees the episode where we argue about Substack growth hacks.

Amran: The only thing left now is for you, Dear Substack Writer, to ask yourself one question: Do you have what it takes to debase yourself and embarrass your family on national television?

Carlos: Remember, unlike producing your newsletter, on TRHHoS you might get paid for your efforts.

Apply Now!

Here’s how:

1. Answer the following questions:

   1. Why do you want to be on TRHHoS? (The more depraved and egotistical your answer, the better)

   2. How many followers do you have across your social media platforms? (Preference given to applicants with fewer Instagram followers than us because we’re divas that way)

   3. Have you ever posted engagement bait on Substack Notes, such as pictures or drawings of adorable animals, subscriber milestones, or quotes by famous writers? (If so, let us know what worked — we’re always on the lookout for new ways to trick people into subscribing to our newsletters)

2. Read our “free speech” manifesto: From Our Smudgy Dead Fingers

3. Sign our “All Speech Matters: Even Speech That Directly Violates and/or Isn’t Protected by the First Amendment” pledge of allegiance by clicking HERE

Carlos: This whole experience has really taught me a lot, but mostly I’ve learned that becoming a writer was a really dumb idea when I could’ve been a reality TV star this entire time.

Amran: And I’ve learned that monetizing creative work in the age of trillion-dollar tech companies, mercurial algorithms, cynical oligarchs, rampant media illiteracy, cultural atomization, high inflation, and geopolitical strife is just, like, incredibly fucking difficult.

Carlos: We’re pretty funny guys, but the world is awash with talented people and beset by broken business models. Finding so-called true fans has somehow never been easier or more impossible.

Amran: My wife hates my writing.

Carlos: So, if you’re trying to create art in our unforgiving economic system, give yourself a break. Just try to produce work you love, and always remember to have fun.

Amran: Because that’s all you can control.

Carlos: That, and join TRHHoS so you can get hella rich like us.

Amran: Exactly. Well Carlos, it’s been a true honor. I can’t wait to punch you in the dick and hurl racial epithets your way on a future episode!

Carlos: Right back atcha. Let the dick punching begin!

Field Research

A huge thank you to

Subscribe to Amran!

Also keep an eye out for his debut novel, Leverage, which will be published summer 2025. And, in the meantime, check out his Instagram, where he posts, among other things, dad humor and book reviews, including a recent review of Spoilers.

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