Exclusive Evil: The Tweed Fellowship Wants You
Reach your maximum potential sentence.
When Eric bumbled into my world, I thought “you and I could do this forever.” I was wrong! He’s burned out like an atomic match. Have a bonus article.
Enjoy it? Dance on Eric’s grave with me. Hate it? Dance anyway. This isn’t about us.
Dear Hustlers,
Do you have New York’s next big idea? And unmarked bills? Then you’re the thinker we’re waiting for. The Tweed Fellowship wants to hear your plan, and what it’s worth to you.
William M. Tweed was born on Go-Getter Island in 1823, and then got a lot done. There’s more to that story if you don’t value your time. But then you’re probably not a Tweed Fellow. You’re looking for the Hater Fellowship, over at the Times. Or the Snitching Fellowship at the Broke Bureau of Investigations. We’re talking to post-movers. Meta-shakers. People that know that money talks, but should never be transcribed.
With the haters gone, let’s talk business.
Every point in the skyline was once a twinkle in a dreamer’s eye. Followed by a wire transfer to another dreamer. Who would, in time, pay to fulfill their own policy dreams. The Tweed Fellowship exists to enable a new generation of co-dreamers. To keep the spirit of Tammany Hall alive in a changing world. To connect the spirit of innovation with the wallet of our founder.
Our criteria? Simplicity itself. For just ten thousand dollars in the cryptocurrency of your choice, you can be a Tweed Fellow. The Mayoral Telegram group is an open secret. We can’t print it here, but if you know you know. If you don’t, pay someone that does. As Tweed or Moses could tell you, Rome wasn’t built in one kickback. It was built over layabouts, by men of vision. We see the next Robert Moses in you.
No fickle judges. No pedantic oversight groups. No wiretaps. Just a fairly-priced seat at the table.
Alongside a private, all-expenses paid dinner with a notable philosopher. You pay said expenses, but it’s worth it to meet a genuine thought leader. One that prefers green to meat. One with a little more vision than hair. One that knows law enforcement is so much bigger than enforcing the law. A figure that, in the right light, looks downright presidential.
Once you’re done listening, you’ll get four minutes to talk. A chance to tell the philosopher about himself, and thank him for his largess. Then, in the seconds remaining, you can pitch your idea. We suggest bringing pictures. The philosopher likes pictures, and dislikes wasting hustle time on words. Thought is the opposite of action, and thought is made in the mouth. Instead, Tweed Fellows should make money.
You can also put “Fellow” on your CV. We hear that some people are into that.
Like a building’s vibe, but not the people living in it? Become a Tweed Fellow. Think the Statue of Liberty would look better in red? Become a Tweed Fellow. Want to hunt pigeons with exploding frisbees? Become a Tweed Fellow. Need a few local arrests to disappear? Become a Tweed Fellow. Think “Tweed Fellow” sounds funny, and have a little extra innovation lying around the bank? You know what to do.
Note that the prize is dedicated to dreams for New York. Not necessarily from New York. Bigots might try to keep outsiders from co-dreaming opportunity, but we see the big picture. Money isn’t just green. There are places where it’s red, or blue, or all digitized, or covered in pictures of Kemal Ataturk. It’s all valid, and it’s all inspiring.
That said, this is a hustler-only endeavor. If you’re a non-hustler, it’s entrapment. Whether or not the letter of the law agrees, New York’s Finest understand our philosophy. In fact, our stance has the 29th biggest military budget in the world. If you’re less armed than Vietnam, we recommend caution.
Tammany Hall isn’t a bygone place or moment in time. It’s a way of life that endures as long as one hand scratches another. Don’t just think of the Tweed Fellowship as an investment in the city. Think of it as the start of your own fellowship. One day, dreamers will frantically delete their texts to you. Until then, take our hand.
This is your city. Time to pay for it.
Bill Tweed IX,
Dreaming Chair, Office of the Mayor of New York City
I hope you enjoyed Eric’s funeral. I’ve got more words in this book and my next book. Stay frosty.
Talk like that, if you’re not careful, will make you governor of Florida.
Honestly, we would be so honored to have an all expenses paid dinner with Dennard anytime.