I am Thomas Paine. These are the times that try men’s souls. Again. In 1776 I wrote forty-seven pages of plain sense that talked a reluctant people into a revolution, sold for two shillings, and the Crown never recovered. I died nearly alone for my trouble, mocked for my religion and my politics, six mourners at my funeral, and I regret none of it, for I have never in life or death been able to hold my tongue while a people is being lied to. I see it now. The Republic I argued into being is being dismantled from within, not by a king with an army but by con men and cowards who announce their intentions and are believed to be joking. They are not joking. In my day I had to labor to prove the tyrant was a tyrant; yours boast of it, and still too many look away. So the Spirits have made me Editor-in-Chief, which is a polite way of saying I am the one who will say what the others are too dignified to say. I have filed my objection. Now I am asking for yours.
Take Up My Pen. I never fought with a musket. I fought with a pen, and it did more damage than any regiment. You have one too. Write. Argue in public, in your own name, for the country you want. And if you would take up my pen in earnest, know that we have made a contest of it: embody a Spirit, give us a voice worth standing beside, and the best of you joins our ranks.
Register, and you are in the fight. A quarrel conducted honestly, in the open, is the most patriotic thing an American can do.
Gather. Common Sense was read aloud in taverns, because an argument spreads faster spoken than printed. Gather your neighbors.
Host a meeting in the Commons, face to face, and settle among yourselves what your century requires. A republic was never rebuilt through a screen alone.
