Incendiary Comments is a book that examines my relationship with the New York Times. It’s been a long one. I am publishing my stuff there in terms of following patterns. Themes: Politics. Resistance. Medical. Autism, Neurodivergence (I’m Aspergers).  Economics. Democracy. Homelessness. Work-At-Home. Education. Tech. Suits. Parenting. HIV/AIDS. The whole nine yards. I am reporting. The work belongs to me. No one else there can say that in terms of the diversity that gives my voice a drive. I am driven. Reporting on what I said. What I see even if it’s not the same stance of the New York Times that has many moderates but no radical thinking, the focus is on my work. Not their stuff. I have picked my own graphics. I am also a professional photographer. I do not use their graphics. I do not intend to publish graphics. Just the text. Below is an example of the writing. I have published nine books. PEN awards. Columbia Journalism Review. Esquire Magazine, Booksellers Awards. Best books of the year awards. Most Notable Book NYT. I have sold over 200,000 books. Including film rights on all my books. Publishing has branded me as provocative and controversial. My books are all controversial. If you or your company cannot handle controversy, let’s avoid wasting one another’s time. My work is not like the work of anyone you know. I call suits suits. My work is an attempt to make the New York Times human. I am a radical. I have been publishing a long time. This one has taken years because I only make one sub,ission a day. You do not know me. Even if you know my name (and you probably don’t) that is different from knowing or reading my work. I will include just a few samples. The New York Times knows I am publishing this book. In fact, I have mentioned it on their pages many times. If such a collection interests you, there is more content on my website. Thank you. — Tim Barrus

Sample. Today: “Take notes. I am living in a car. I am working in this car. I have published nine books. And I am living and working in a car. I am not alone. Hurricane survivors and these other mountain folks who all worked somewhere else. This is Appalachia. None of the people here have any experience at being homeless. Now, all of that is over. Big families are in tents. I can work anywhere. It’s winter and people are cold. Some people have disappeared. Because they had a chance to get off the grid. Work means chopping firewood. I have worked on picnic tables in parks. I have worked in bus stations toilets. I have worked on tall sailing ships. I have worked in schools where when it rained, there would be a deluge from a very bad roof. I have worked in coffee shops where it was warm. So, when you say the word – work – no one I have ever met would consider writing a job. At work. Nobody writes about how what’s really going on is a sea of sadomasochism perpetuated by Mr. Boss Man, a suit, who gets off on abusing other people who put up with it because. I have no idea why. When suits tell you to jump. You comply. Last year, I wrote books in a treehouse. I am the boss. You suits just shrug indifferently. Everyone is supposed to be like you. Suits watching screens. Robots. The suits call the shots. For you. Not for me. I am not a part of your rotting culture. If I was rich, why would I be working in a car in a parking lot. I have always known that work at home paradigms were expendable because no suit could abuse you beyond the piling on of work.”