Some newsletter ideas are hard to come by, like trying to squeeze orange juice from a stapler. Others arrive fully formed, theses singing like an angel choir.
In rare instances, an idea startles me — first with its audacity, then with the tender underbelly hidden beneath the surface. Such was the case with this one.
When I spied this sign haphazardly taped all over downtown Manhattan, it was too good to keep to myself. So, I posted it on Notes, fully expecting that to be the end of the story. Then the comments started rolling in.
“So, are you going?”
“Please tell me you’re going!”
“Who would go to something like this?”
“I would absolutely go to this???”
“Wait, is that my son?”
“Please report back!”
The QR code revealed a landing page that was cryptic at best. The event was hosted by someone called Cheeseballman427. The description was succinct: “I will eat the whole thing. I will probably throw up.”
Naturally, I had questions. Would this be a Joey Chestnut dunk-and-down situation, or did they plan on slowly munching their way to the bottom? Would they don the mask the entire time? Would there be merch?
Was this performance art, a PR stunt, a hobby, a calling? And just as intriguing, who were the 1,173 people (and 263 maybes) that had RSVPed?
My mission was clear: I would watch this person eat an entire jar of cheeseballs. And then I would write about it.
Early Thursday morning, Cheeseballman427 sent a text:
“hey guys, this saturday is going to be a blast (absolute misery). please wear orange, ok cool.”
It included this highly specific image disclosing the location where the cheeseballs would be eaten.
Since joy is magnified when shared (and because I am short and sometimes have trouble seeing in a crowd), I wanted some backup. I recruited my friend Jesse, who enthusiastically agreed.
“You here yet?” Jesse texted, as I made my way to the park. “Some people in orange just smiled and nodded at me. I feel like I’m in a cult.”
I arrived to discover him dressed like a human hazard sign. Thirty minutes out, a mob had started to gather. Some wore sweaters clearly meant for Halloween, while others sported orange construction vests. One person had fashioned a traffic cone into a hat.
As we waited for the main event, I felt strangely emotional, the way I do when beholding an opening number on Broadway or during that moment right before the big reveal in a home makeover show. We had entered the domain of dreamers, of doers, of those who dare to endeavor — that special breed of magic that happens when a human creates something infused with their being. That it hinged on a jar of cheeseballs and the potential of vomit did not lessen its promise.
The crowd continued to grow until it was easily a few hundred deep. At precisely 3 p.m., the throng parted and Cheeseballman427 burst onto the scene. He ran in a circle, giving high fives.
“There’s a flag!” he announced, unfurling a giant banner featuring his likeness and a jar of cheeseballs superimposed on a scene of a placid mountain lake.
Next he brandished the jar of cheeseballs. (Eagle-eyed observers may notice it is not the same jar depicted in the poster — a lavender-tinted 36.5 oz Utz canister — but rather a clear Munch King barrel, weighing in at 13 oz. As “Munch King,” seems more aligned with his personal brand, I am willing to overlook the discrepancy.)
“When I say cheese, you say balls!” he urged.
“Cheese!”
“Balls!”
“Cheese!”
“Balls!”
“Wow, I was not expecting a thousand people to be here,” he said, sheepishly surveying the growing crowd. “So, uh, if you can’t see I’m sorry about that. I’m going to eat as many of these cheeseballs as possible before the NYPD chases me off!”
We all drew closer as the eating commenced.
“Eat-those-balls! Eat-those-balls!” the throng chanted as he began to munch his way through, one orange orb at a time.
“This might take a while,” grumbled a lady next to me.
“It’s going to take forever,” her friend confirmed.
“Honestly, we could probably go grab a bite and come back afterward and he’ll still be here working on it.”
But in the blink of an eye, Cheeseballman427 held up the canister, showing a significant dent.
“You can do it, Cheeseballman!” yelled the same lady who had just been grumbling. He’d converted her before my eyes.
Cheeseballman powered on, channeling the frantic yet controlled mandible of a determined chipmunk.
“We believe in you!” came a voice from the crowd.
“You got this!"
“Halfway there!”
The only thing more surprising than the size of the audience was the ardor behind their support. It was a strangely touching display of the magic to be made not only in chasing what moves us, but in cheering each other on.
Twenty-three minutes after he burst onto the scene, Cheeseballman reached the bottom of the jar.
“Fi-nal balls! Fi-nal balls!”
He held the final ball aloft, milking his moment of glory, before taking one last triumphant munch. The crowd went wild, all too happy to embrace a new sort of superhero — one a bit closer to home, fists and face covered in orange dust.
Heading into this event, my only hope was that I’d have enough to write about. I expected to spin a story of snacks, of gluttony, of public spectacle. The cautionary tale of a trip to Costco that got a bit out of hand. But what I observed — nay, what I took part in — was a heartwarming display of community, an affirming show of solidarity, an inspiring demonstration of pluck and perseverance.
Watching a guy eat an entire jar of cheeseballs, surrounded by a rapt (and ultimately, invested) audience, is not unlike witnessing someone press publish on a newsletter. Nor is it so different from launching a business or giving a presentation or telling someone you love them for the very first time.
When it comes to our dreams, they may not always work, they may not always land, and they certainly won’t appeal to everyone. But if there is a lesson to be gleaned from Cheeseballman427, it is, simply, to go for it. Try something new, something strange, something beautiful. Build something that’s true to you.
In both the crowd and the comment thread, one question kept coming up: Why the mask? Why did he choose to keep it on, even after his triumphant final bite? Why not own his success, embrace his glory?
Watching him work the crowd, it became clear this was not a cloak of anonymity, but of mystery. The chance to rally behind an unknown figure and catch a glimpse of ourselves mirrored back at us. Because here is the truth:
In this lifetime, the closest we get to a superhero is a person who goes for it.
“I’m not Cheeseballman427, you guys are!” he yelled, as he reached the bottom of the jar. “Thank you for helping me fulfill my dream of eating an entire jar of cheeseballs in Union Square on April 27th!”
Indeed, the story of Cheeseballman is about anyone who dares to chase what lights them up inside. It doesn’t need to be grand or sensible or even all that socially acceptable. At our core, we’re all just a guy eating cheeseballs in a public square. Even if our audience is proverbial. Even if we never don a cape.
We needn’t chase something epic — we are epic. We need only embrace it.
After the feat, I asked Cheeseballman427 if he had any words to share with you. What would he like the world to know about eating cheeseballs and chasing dreams?
“You’d be surprised just how much people care,” he said. “Never back down, never give up.”
Thank you, Cheeseballman. Long may you reign.
Thank you so much for being here, and for reading. ❤️ This space is my strange and beautiful dream, and paid subscribers make it possible.
Card of the Week
Here is this week’s card for the collective, as well as some thoughts to carry into the days ahead. As most modern readers will tell you, the tarot is not about fortunetelling, nor is it about neat, definitive answers. The cards are simply one path to reflection, a way of better knowing ourselves and others through universal themes. If this reading resonates with you, great! And if not, no worries. Take whatever may be helpful and leave the rest.
Today’s card is a repeat visitor, not unlike the targeted ads that trail me around the internet even when I ask them not to. The Four of Cups speaks to a feeling we know too well — when we want one thing but get another.
This week’s message reminds us that, at any given moment, we only have the capacity to recognize one aspect of the story. We see the photo the influencer offers us, but not what’s outside the frame. We see the grass is greener on the neighbor’s side, but not the staggering price on their sod bill, nor the root rot forming underground.
We may think we have context, but there’s a good chance we don’t. More will be revealed to us soon.
There’s a Taoist story that makes the rounds about a farmer whose horse runs away. When his neighbors hear the news, they all say, “Such bad luck.”
“Maybe,” replies the farmer.
The next day, the horse returns, bringing three wild horses with it. “Such good luck!” say the neighbors.
“Maybe,” replies the farmer.
The next day, the farmer’s son tries to ride one of the wild horses, is thrown, and breaks his leg. “Such bad luck,” say the neighbors.
“Maybe,” replies the farmer.
The next day, military officials come to the village to issue a draft for the army, but pass over the injured son. “Such good luck,” say the neighbors.
“Maybe,” replies the farmer…
The most common interpretation of this card tells us to be grateful for what we have — an evergreen message, and a valid one. Recognizing the blessings of the present moment is the surest path to contentment.
But today’s message is also about agency. We have a choice. Sure, we don’t always have a say in the hand we are dealt. There is much beyond our control. But we do have a choice in how we react.
As we move through our days, we're offered up images and not-so-subtle suggestions as to how we might change or improve our lives. The Four of Cups wishes to remind us that feelings aren’t facts (and neither is much of what we see). Like the character on this card, we have a choice. We can accept the thing — the ad, the job, the date, the offer, the opinion, the suggestion… — or we can decline it.
Both are valid.
Both are okay.
Readers are quick to say the person on this card is being resistant, closed off, choosy. They might feel stagnant, apathetic, over it. But as I look at this card, I see discernment. I see a mind in the process of being changed.
Maybe they’re taking a moment to see what these cups are about. Maybe they’re staying open to the possibilities before they make the next move. Maybe they’re allowing the scene to play out as it may.
Maybe they’re gathering information, including the guidance within.
Perhaps the outcome will surprise them.
Perhaps it will surprise us, too.
Love this so much — only in New York would people gather to cheer on a guy eating cheese balls. 🥲 This line really resonates: “in this lifetime, the closest we get to a superhero is a person who goes for it.”
“You’d be surprised just how much people care.”
Message received.