From scrappy little newsletter producing in-depth journalism to something ... different.
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Dear Argus readers,
Look, I never set out to become wealthy. In fact, anyone looking at my life from the outside would conclude that I’ve proactively dodged every opportunity for riches—questionable career decisions, foolish investments, and that time I knocked back one too many and bet my retirement savings on black twenty-six. (Whoops.)
And yet, today—on the first of April, 2025—here we are.
This week I’ve been unusually busy—establishing shell companies in the Cayman Islands, weaving a labyrinth of LLCs, LLDs, and LLEs (which I assume are real), and finally, at long last, replacing the broken driver’s-side door handle on my old Honda subcompact so I no longer have to climb in through the window like a burglar or slide over from the passenger seat like an idiot.
Because as you’ve probably heard by now, The Berkshire Argus has been acquired. And for a truly ridiculous—truly! ridiculous!—mountain of money. A ten-figure sum—twelve-figure if you include cents. Not bad for a tiny news outlet and e-mail newsletter focused on providing in-depth reporting, informed comment and analysis, and a little humor.
As any good journalist would ask: Whaaat? When? Why? Where? And [expletive]-ing how?
Truth is, I have no idea. I don’t know anything at all about “business.”
But the landing team dispatched this week by the acquiring hedge fund seems confident. A little too confident. Some of them look to me like tiny children: They wear hoodies, communicate in shrugs, grunts, and emojis, and demand full access to everything—financials, archives, interview notes, my childhood diaries, and more. Guess I shouldn’t have signed every document they put in front of me . . .
Still, the hedge-fund honchos assure me their innovative new business model—detailed in a top-secret white paper that is, regrettably, not available to the public—is the future of journalism. And based on the truly! ridiculous! wire transfers I’m receiving hourly, it’s certainly more lucrative than journalism’s past and present. You know what I’m saying?
As their plan says, “The one-billion-dollar acquisition of The Berkshire Argus is not just a media deal—it is the critical first step in a revolutionary new model, one that transforms journalism from a struggling public service into the cornerstone of a global influence economy.” Cha-ching!
Sure, there will be a few minor adjustments to our journalism—primarily through the implementation of multi-million-dollar subscription and sponsorship tiers bundled under something called Truth-as-a-Service™, or TaaS™, that are being marketed to Fortune 100 companies at this very moment.
Yes, “TaaS™” sounds a lot like TASS, Russia’s century-old propaganda machine, which claims to “ceaselessly strive to deliver the latest and most accurate news.” Unfortunate coincidence? Absolutely. But I repeat: Cha-ching!
Here’s a comparison of this new model versus the kind of journalism produced by The Argus until 12:01 a.m. this morning:
Even if I didn’t now have wealth beyond imagining, I’d still be excited about this bold, new direction for The Argus. Or, as it may soon be called, The New Argus. Or The Nargus, as one of the hedge-fund kids suggested. Of course, he might be mocking me—when I looked up “nargus,” I learned that it’s some kind of beetle. No idea what that could mean.
Old Berkshire Argus Slogan: “Will collect facts, investigate wrongdoing, and protect the public interest—for food.”
New Berkshire Argus Slogan: “LOOK AT ME, MA! I’M A BILLIONAIRE! WOO HOO!”
Anyway, I want to thank you for your steadfast support of independent journalism over the years—support that brought The Argus and me to this pivotal moment. I hope everything works out—for The Argus and, of course, for you.
With the highest regard and no small amount of regret, I remain,
Sincerely yours,
Bill
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