Can you go viral? Because that’s the new résumé.

The Meritocracy Myth

When I was growing up, everyone preached the same gospel: “Don’t talk about it. Be about it.” Keep your head down. Do the work. Be undeniable.

And for a while, that worked—back when the world was small, visibility was scarce, and gatekeepers all played by the same rules.

But the game changed. I know because I played by the old rules.

I’ve built and exited companies—some in boardrooms, others on the floor of a studio apartment, scheming viral launches. One helped launch a Grammy winner with albums we created in my spare bedroom. Another was acquired by a studio that eventually sold to Disney. I’ve pitched spreadsheets in exec meetings and made viral clips—a fake fight, jam sessions—that helped otherwise marginalized musicians get seen. That run led to Maker Studios Inc (Acquired by Disney) where I worked with PewDiePie, Markiplier, and the original daily vloggers—the Shaytards—until the big mouse acquired us. I went from taking a sabbatical to leading in boardrooms at Discovery-backed startups. And now? I’m back at square one—making food videos with my partner Jaeki, with nothing to prove and everything to enjoy.

So I say this with love and experience: talking about your work matters more than doing it.

That sounds sacrilegious to anyone still clinging to “let the work speak for itself.” But here’s the truth: you can’t be brilliant in silence. Without light, nothing shines.

I’ve seen it up close.

I’ve worked in the business of getting noticed—online and in rooms where job titles are currency and PowerPoints pass for proof of work.

I’ve watched people who never built a thing rise because they were “great in a room.” They performed in meetings like it was their TED Talk. Smiled up, shit down. Flew in to speak on panels at every conference. Failed upward. Their names came up in every big meeting—again and again.

Sometimes it still gets to me.

But I’ve learned: you can’t hate the player—you have to learn the playbook. And if you want to build something that spreads, scales, and survives—you have to master how attention works.

The Quiet Part Out Loud

It’s 11:43 PM. The house is quiet—just the soft hum of the air purifier outside my kids' rooms. I’m watching Marc Andreessen—Netscape co-founder, a16z kingmaker—speak to a packed audience. He says it plain:

“The warm intro is the first test. If you can’t network your way to a VC firm, how will you ever recruit a great team or sell a product to customers?”

Everyone nods like it’s obvious.

I think of my kids upstairs—8, 5, and 3. What kind of world are they walking into? Will they need a Stanford MBA and a name-drop?

Andreessen’s logic isn’t wrong. In a world with scarce trust, referrals are currency.

But it’s also how we got Elizabeth Holmes, Adam Neumann, and Sam Bankman-Fried. All insiders. All disasters.

Warm intros aren’t about competence. They’re about pedigree.

And in the new attention economy, they’re no longer the main filter. The new gate is virality.

A New Kind of Proof

Take Cluely —the controversial AI startup that lets users ‘cheat on everything.

Chungin Lee , one of its founders went viral on Twitter/X after posting about getting suspended from Columbia for building an AI tool that helped job seekers ace technical interviews at FAANG companies. The story blew up. They withdrew from school. Then raised $5.3 million. Their press release? Not PR Newswire. They dropped an Instagram Reel.

That wasn’t a fluke. It was a signal. The attention wasn’t just dopamine—it was diligence. They landed their beachhead. Comments revealed market pain. Shares mapped distribution. Followers became beta testers.

Old model: Build → Network → Pitch → Launch New model: Launch messy → Learn in public → Let the market chase you

A warm intro whispers, “Trust me.” Virality shouts, “The market already does.”

Y Combinator knows this. That’s why they’re running a YouTube channel now. a16z is a media empire for a reason. Attention is alpha.

The Death of “Quiet Competence”

The imperative to talk about your work—loudly, publicly, strategically—isn’t just for scrappy founders or creators. It’s the playbook for the richest, most powerful people in the world.

Elon Musk doesn’t just hype Tesla. He turns R&D into a meme engine: Cybertruck’s viral reveal → 250K preorders → $0 ad spend → Manufacturing validated SpaceX explosions → 100M+ views → Public stress-testing → Political capital

Even tech’s “serious” operators now bow to the algorithm.

Mark Zuckerberg went on Theo Von’s podcast and joked about “raw-dogging reality” without caffeine or chemicals. It wasn’t random. It was a play to go viral and look more human.

The titans of tech aren’t above the algorithm. They’re its best students.

The Power Law of Attention Liquidity

Capital flows where attention pools. Always.

Donald Trump’s 2025 memecoin launch proved it:

The $TRUMP coin hit a $13 billion market cap in 36 hours.

This isn’t a glitch. It’s the new logic of capital.

We’re witnessing a reordering of the capital stack:

1. Viral attention
2. Community
3. Revenue
4. Institutional validation

Warm intros still exist—but they’re lagging indicators. A symptom of already having gone public the right way.

Even crypto and meme culture, often dismissed as noise, reveals something deeper: Memes don’t just spread. They anoint. They reward early believers. They collapse the lag between belief and value.

And increasingly, the people who mint belief are the ones who know how to communicate. Who move culture. Who go viral.

Look at recent political appointments—not for their ideology, but for what their rise signals:

• Pete Hegseth, TV pundit turned Secretary of Defense
• Linda McMahon, WWE co-founder turned head of the SBA
• JD Vance, author and elite-tier Twitter shitposter turned Vice President

By the time my kids vote, this won’t be the exception. It’ll be the norm.

Credentials will still matter. But contagious ideas will matter more.

Know Your Meme

Let’s be clear: the algorithm is the new referral. And virality? It’s not clout-chasing. It’s leverage.

If you want to build something that moves—attention, culture, capital—here’s the playbook:

• Start messy. Don’t wait for perfect. Post the draft.
• Build in public. Share your process. Ship your learnings.
• Find your edge. Speak to 100 obsessives, not 10,000 tourists.
• Make your flaws the hook. Duolingo’s chaos works. Fermat’s Library did it for nerds.
• Co-own the story. Respond to comments. Share the roadmap. Let people in.

Going viral isn’t magic. It’s repetition. Curiosity. A little shamelessness.

Perfect never ships.

And if that makes you uncomfortable, here’s the brutal, beautiful truth:

This doesn’t favor loud people over smart people. It favors people who can make strangers care.

The warm intro was a trust shortcut. Virality is a trust protocol.

It proves:

• You can create demand
• You can validate ideas under fire
• You can communicate when it counts
• You can move markets—even micro ones

That’s not vanity. That’s viability.

And to my kids, if you ever read this someday: Don’t be afraid to post your early drawings, your messy code, your half-baked ideas. Somewhere along the way, we were taught to hide until perfect. I hope you stay unafraid to be seen before you're ready.

Warm intros favor pedigree. Virality isn’t fully open—the algorithm can still be gamed. But only one of them is available to anyone with a story, a phone, and a point of view.

So if you’re building something real?

Stop polishing your deck. Post the draft. Let the world see what you’re about—before they decide who you are.