We need to talk about Pulte’s followers
Today, someone retweeted this on to my timeline.
If you browse Twitter at all, you too have probably had Pulte show up on your timeline. In fact, you may even follow and retweet him as well, hoping against hope you’ll be next to land a cash prize like the above 281,000 people and counting do.
Bill Pulte is a wealthy heir to a home construction conglomerate, and has developed a schtick over the last few years of what he calls “Twitter philanthropy”: publicly offering up a donation via CashApp, usually in the $100-$1000 range (although, obviously, occasionally going beyond), to someone who retweets and follows him. Over the last few years, he’s developed over 3M followers on Twitter, which is quite impressive for that app as users (and therefore followers) are considerably scarcer than on Instagram.
I’ve two minds about this. One, he clearly wants his fans to dance for their money. He’s not just doing this to help needy people. He’s also done this to make himself famous, by trumpeting himself to the skies even when he hands out a measly $40.
But on the other hand, there is no question that what he’s doing is far more helpful, dollar-for-dollar, to actual disadvantaged people than just writing a check to some charity. Pulte is right that direct cash payouts, while susceptible as anything is to scams, to people in need are greatly more efficient and useful than the ever-more bloated and corrupt world of what are not even really called “charities” anymore: the NGOs.
Read about any of the big-name NGOs like the Red Cross, Goodwill, or as we all heard in 2016, the Clinton or Trump Foundations, and you’ll read about self-dealing, “lost” funds, back-scratching, and sometimes, blatant fraud. It’s no secret that most of these people running these things only care about their lavish paychecks and their black-tie galas, and that actual people in need can go hang. They’re prosperity gospel preachers, only pretending to do it for Haitian refugees instead of Jesus.
If you just want a grip-and-grin with some celebrity asshole to show off to your buddies, donate to an NGO. If you want to actually help a real, non-celeb person with their medical bills or back rent, download CashApp.
Because the real story isn’t Bill Pulte. It’s the people in his replies.
It goes on and on for every one of his tweets. Hundreds, sometimes thousands of stories like these. People that society has written off and most definitely without the “this person matters” blue checkmark. The forgotten. The people who would be quietly escorted from the premises if they dared attempt to visit a black tie gala ostensibly in their name.
If he wanted to, Pulte could easily convert his following into a political movement. Because these people feel he might be the only person of means on the planet who actually gives a crap about them (which, incidentally, was also a big part of President Trump’s appeal).
There is so much need, so much that rarely gets written up in the media besides those occasional “Trump voters in the mist” pieces — pieces which by definition overlook the equally hard-scrabble families in the South Bronx or Baltimore. Former Wall Street finance guy Chris Arnande has made a second career out of documenting what he calls the “back row,” the proletariat, the paycheck-to-paycheck crowd. The very people for whom DC politicians and NYC media types and NGO kingpins hire security to keep away. Read his book if you’d like to know more.
Or just check out Pulte’s replies. And — fair warning, this being the internet, I’m sure some of these accounts are fake. But still, if you have the means, try reaching out to a few of these people and see if you can help out. Get the power back on for a family, or stave off eviction for a month. Unlike your donation to a celebrity-branded fund, this kind of donation can actually make a difference.
