The Z Man

Good golly, Miss Molly. Summarizing what makes The Z Man’s take on life, the universe and everything so refreshing is beyond the scope of these few paragraphs. His own stab at summarizing his theory of everything ran over 7,000 words long, and you can tell he would have kept going on forever if he didn’t also have to bathe and eat sandwiches and do all the other things which distract people from penning manifestos.

But do you know what really sets The Z Man apart from the mainstream media? Whereas the average run-of-the-mill screwed-on-toupee journalist lies with the kind of enthusiasm a six-year-old typically reserves for opening presents on Christmas morning, our man in Maryland tells the truth with twice as much gusto. He’s not in it to push a narrative down the masses’ collective throat or coax Boomers into buying Centrum Silver and supplemental life insurance. He’s in it to give the most sensical account of current affairs – nothing more.

Maybe flogging vitamins would have been more lucrative for The Z Man, but the devil will personally serve snow cones in hell before GlaxoSmithKline starts mailing him checks. But that’s okay. The Z Man doesn’t need to sell out to afford scented bath bombs and sandwich ingredients, because he has the gracious support of readers and listeners like you.

When you order official The Z Man merchandise, you won’t just fund one of the few remaining journalists who has the stones to call out BS wherever he sees it. You’ll also be able to show your support for real news to anyone who looks in your direction. “Look at this,” you’ll say, maintaining eye contact as you tap your finger against your official The Z Man merchandise. “I support real journalism.” They’ll be so impressed by your patronage that they won’t be able to find the words they’d need to respond.