In 2026, getting canceled isn’t always a tragedy — sometimes it’s just free publicity with a side of comedy.
Some time ago, a concerted effort kicked off to get my Substack taken down. Someone (allegedly) started a petition, rallied the troops, and even set up a fundraising drive to pressure the platform. The outrage machine was humming nicely.
So naturally, after some deliberation, I wrote “Cancel Me” — a bouncy, satirical pop anthem about exactly this kind of moment.
The song leans all the way into the absurdity: one wrong move, one “problematic” opinion, or in my case, just existing while saying things people don’t like, and suddenly you’re trending. But instead of cowering or issuing the ritual apology video, the narrator flips the script — “Cancel me, baby… I’ll make merch.”
And yes, this one’s personal. While they were out there collecting donations to silence me, I kept thinking: Oh hell, don’t send them your money — send it to me instead. If it’s enough, I’ll delete my Substack myself.
That’s the chaotic, self-aware energy I wanted to capture. Socks with sandals, pineapple on pie, or just writing the wrong sentence at the right time — it doesn’t matter. The internet will find a reason. The question is whether you let it bury you… or treat it like fertilizer.
They try to bury me, but I’m a seed — that line in the bridge isn’t just clever songwriting. It’s what actually happens when you stop playing their game and start dancing on the outrage wave.
This isn’t a victim song. It’s a victory lap with a middle finger and a grin. A reminder that in the attention economy, visibility is currency — and sometimes the best response to cancellation season is to crank up the volume and own the scar.
So go ahead. Sign the petition if it makes you feel better.
Just know I’m over here riding the wave, feeling supersonic, and laughing the whole time.
Cancel me, baby. I’m just getting started.
PS Forgot to add the audio seed for this. Here you go.
