Another genius proposal idea!

The Influencer Draft: A Modest Proposal to Save Our Cities (And Ruin Your Favorite TikToker's Life) 📸😈

Or: How I Learned to Stop Worrying and Love Mandatory Content About Potholes

Let me paint you a picture.

It's a Tuesday afternoon. You're walking down the sidewalk, minding your own business, when suddenly—a girl materializes in front of you. She's wearing athleisure that costs more than your rent. She's holding a smoothie that definitely has kale in it. She's filming. She's always filming.

"Okay, so like, I'm literally shaking right now," she says into her phone, as if she's just witnessed a war crime. "The lighting in this Starbucks is giving nothing. NOTHING. I'm going to have to do the whole thing in post."

She spins. Her hair catches the light perfectly (because of course it does). She doesn't notice you. She never notices you. You're not in her frame. You're not in her world. You're just... background.

You want to scream. You want to grab her ring light and throw it into the nearest body of water. You want to ask her, genuinely, what she thinks she's contributing to society.

But you don't. Because she's an influencer. And in 2026, influencers are untouchable. They have power. They have platforms. They have brand deals.

And they're blocking your sidewalk.

What if I told you there was a solution? What if I told you that the government could take these blessed, filtered creatures and put them to work? Not for themselves. Not for their engagement metrics. For us?

What if I told you about the Influencer Draft?

I: THE PROBLEM — Influencers Have Too Much Power (And Too Little Purpose) 📱😤

Let's state the obvious: influencers are everywhere.

They're in your grocery store, filming themselves touching produce they have no intention of buying. They're in your local park, doing yoga poses that human bodies were not designed to hold. They're at your favorite restaurant, taking 47 photos of a burger that's now cold, while you wait for your table. They're at your city's landmarks, blocking the view, asking strangers to move out of their shot, treating public spaces like their personal studio.

The Statistics (Made Up, But You Know They're True):

• 1 in 3 public sidewalks are currently occupied by someone holding a phone at a weird angle. 📱
• "Excuse me, you're in my shot" is now the third most common phrase in the English language. 🗣️
• The average influencer spends 4 hours a day "creating content" and 0 hours a day doing anything useful. ⏰
• Your city has a pothole problem, a housing crisis, and a library that's closing early. But it also has 47 people filming themselves walking across the same bridge. Priorities. 🌉

  The Real Problem:

  Influencers are not evil. They're just... empty. They've built entire careers around being seen, not doing. They've optimized for engagement, not impact. They've learned to manufacture authenticity, to monetize vulnerability, to package their lives as products.

  And we let them. Because we watch. Because we like. Because we're just as trapped in the attention economy as they are.

  But what if we could redirect that energy? What if we could take their followers, their platforms, their production skills, and aim them at something that matters?

  What if we could draft them?

  ---

II: THE PROPOSAL — The National Influencer Draft 📜📸

Ladies and gentlemen, I give you the most sensible piece of legislation since daylight savings reparations:

"An Act to Harness the Attention Economy for Civic Improvement, Thereby Redirecting Influencer Content From Personal Branding to Public Service, Hereinafter Referred to as 'The Influencer Draft Act.'"

Catchy. They should put it on merch. The influencers can sell it. For content. 🛍️

The Core Mechanism:

Cities submit requests. Influencers are assigned based on follower count, audience demographics, and—most importantly—annoyance level. Your favorite lifestyle influencer might be drafted from Los Angeles to Omaha. Your local food blogger might get reassigned to covering city council meetings. The girl who films herself crying about traffic? She's now the official spokesperson for the Department of Transportation.

The Draft Tiers:

The Fine Print:

• Influencers can be traded between cities. Trade deadline is September 1st. Your favorite influencer might get swapped for a minor league food blogger and two future draft picks.
• Cities that fail to utilize their drafted influencers effectively may lose their draft rights. Use it or lose it. No benchwarmers.
• Influencers who excel at their civic assignments may earn "free agency" after two years. They can return to civilian influencing, but they must disclose their government service on every post. Forever. 🏷️

  ---

III: THE HILARIOUS SITUATIONS — Welcome to the Draft 🎢😭

Scenario 1: The Wellness Guru Gets Assigned to Sanitation 🧘🧹

Her name is Skylynn. She has 2.3 million followers. Her brand is "alignment." She posts about moon water, chakra cleansing, and the healing power of crying in nature.

She gets drafted to the San Francisco Department of Public Works.

The Assignment: Weekly videos about composting, recycling guidelines, and why you shouldn't put batteries in the trash.

The First Video:

Skylynn stands in front of three bins—blue, green, black—looking like she's about to weep. The lighting is soft. The music is ethereal. She speaks in a whisper.

"Okay, so, like... the blue bin is for paper. And the green bin is for... (long pause) ...organic matter. And the black bin is for... (longer pause) ...vibes we're trying to release."

The city's sanitation department reviews the video. They have notes. Many notes.

The Reaction:

Her followers are confused. They came for moon water; they're getting municipal waste management. The comments are a war zone. Some are outraged. Some are delighted. One user writes: "I've never recycled before but I just put my kombucha bottle in the blue bin and I'm crying."

Skylynn's engagement metrics are through the roof. The city of San Francisco has never seen this much interest in recycling.

She's getting a promotion.

Scenario 2: The Travel Blogger Gets Assigned to Rural Infrastructure 🧳🛣️

His name is Chase. He has 1.1 million followers. His entire personality is "passport stamp." He's been to 47 countries. He's filmed himself walking through all of them.

He gets drafted to rural Nebraska.

The Assignment: Weekly updates on bridge repairs, highway maintenance, and the county's five-year road improvement plan.

The First Video:

Chase stands next to a closed bridge. He's wearing his usual travel outfit—linen shirt, expensive sunglasses, shoes that are definitely not OSHA-approved. He's trying to smile.

"Okay, so, like, this bridge has been closed since 2019. And you guys, the detour is literally 47 miles. 47 MILES. I'm not joking. The county says they're waiting on funding. So, uh, I guess we're all waiting."

He films himself driving the detour. It takes an hour. He does not enjoy it.

The Reaction:

The video goes viral in Nebraska. People who have never heard of Chase are suddenly invested. Local news picks it up. The county supervisor gives a press conference. Funding is discussed. The bridge gets repaired three months faster than projected.

Chase wins a local journalism award. He's confused. He's never won anything before. He doesn't know what to do with his hands.

Scenario 3: The ASMR Influencer Gets Assigned to the DMV 🎧😴

Her name is Luna. She has 3.8 million followers. Her content is whispering and tapping and folding things very slowly. She has never raised her voice in public. She has never spoken above a gentle murmur.

She gets drafted to the New York City Department of Motor Vehicles.

The Assignment: Create calming content for people waiting in line. Hour-long videos of someone quietly processing paperwork. Gentle reminders to bring your birth certificate. Soft explanations of the Real ID requirements.

The First Video:

Luna sits at a DMV counter. She's wearing a cardigan. The lighting is soft. She picks up a form. She taps it gently against the desk. She whispers: "You're going to need to fill this out. There's no rush. We have all day. Actually, we close at 5, so maybe a little rush. But gentle rush."

The Reaction:

The video has 12 million views. People are using it to fall asleep. People are using it to calm down before their driving test. People are showing up to the DMV with less anxiety, less anger, less of the usual DMV energy.

The commissioner calls it "the most effective public service campaign in DMV history."

Luna gets a raise. She's still whispering. She's still tapping forms. She's never been happier.

Scenario 4: The "Main Character" Gets Assigned to Potholes 🕳️😤

His name is Brandon. He has 500,000 followers. His content is mostly him walking through cities, looking slightly inconvenienced, and saying things like "this energy is not it." He has never had a job. He has never needed one.

He gets drafted to the Wichita Department of Public Works.

The Assignment: Weekly pothole reporting. Find a pothole. Film it. Tag the city. Follow up. Repeat.

The First Video:

Brandon stands over a pothole the size of a small child. He's wearing his usual "slightly inconvenienced" face, but this time it's real. This pothole has ruined two tires. He knows because he ruined them.

"So, like, I reported this pothole three weeks ago. And I reported it again last week. And I'm reporting it again today. And you guys, I'm literally not leaving until they fix it. I'm going to stand here. I'm going to be here forever. This is my life now."

He films himself standing over the pothole for six hours. He gets sunburned. He gets thirsty. He does not leave.

The Reaction:

The video goes viral. Local news picks it up. The city, under immense pressure, fixes the pothole within 48 hours. Brandon becomes a local hero. People send him thank-you cards. People stop him on the street. People ask him to film their potholes.

He's never been more annoyed. He's never been more fulfilled.

IV: THE ECONOMICS — Who Pays for This? 💸🤔

The Funding Mechanism:

The Influencer Draft is funded by the influencers themselves. A portion of their sponsorship revenue is redirected to the cities they serve. It's called "influencer tax," and it's the most popular tax in American history.

The Cost Breakdown:

The Unspoken Truth:

We're already paying for influencers. We pay with our attention. We pay with our patience. We pay with our public spaces. The draft just redirects the payment. It takes what they owe us—what they've always owed us—and turns it into something real.

V: THE OBJECTIONS — Addressed With Snark 😏🗣️

Objection 1: "This is government overreach. You can't force people to make content."

Response: We force people to do jury duty. We force people to pay taxes. We force people to register for the draft. Content creation is less onerous than any of those things. Also, have you seen what influencers post voluntarily? This is an upgrade.

Objection 2: "Influencers will just move overseas."

Response: Let them. They'll be drafted by other countries. International influencer draft is the next phase. The Hague will handle it.

Objection 3: "This will ruin influencer culture."

Response: Good.

Objection 4: "What about influencers who already do good work? Environmental activists, educators, etc."

Response: They're exempt. We're not monsters. We're just tired of watching people film themselves crying about traffic while our bridges collapse.

VI: THE CONCLUSION — Draft Day Is Coming 🎤😤

So here we are. A world where influencers make content about something that matters. Where the girl who used to film herself getting ready now explains zoning laws. Where the guy who used to sell "mindset coaching" now reports on sewer maintenance. Where the main character energy finally gets channeled into something that's not just... more main character energy.

Is it dystopian? Absolutely.

Is it hilarious? You bet.

Is it going to happen? Probably not. The influencers would never allow it. They have too much power. They have too many followers. They have too many brand deals.

But a man can dream.

A man can dream of a world where, when you're walking down the sidewalk, the person filming isn't blocking your path. They're documenting the pothole. They're tagging the city. They're doing something useful.

And you walk past, and you nod, and you think: "Good. They're finally working."

The Last Line:

The draft is coming. The ring lights are being repurposed. The tripods are being requisitioned. And somewhere, in a city that's tired of waiting, a pothole is being filled. An influencer is filming it. And for the first time, the content is real.

📸😈🛣️🕳️

Allen

FriedReads.com | Draft me. I'll cover the potholes.

March 2026

POSTSCRIPT: THE WICHITA EPILOGUE 🌾

In case you think this is all fantasy, let me tell you about Wichita, Kansas.

In 2024, the city of Wichita was quietly paying local influencers to spread positive messages about city government. They paid a restaurant reviewer to post about city services. They paid a lifestyle blogger to make videos about pothole repair. They paid a mom blogger to talk about... whatever mom bloggers talk about.

When journalists found out, there was outrage. People called it "deception." People called it "propaganda." People called it "paying people to say nice things about potholes."

But here's the thing: the videos worked. One pothole video got nearly 2 million views on TikTok. People actually learned about how potholes get fixed. People actually engaged with their local government.

The city spent tens of thousands of dollars. The influencers got paid. The public got... content. Useful content. Content that served a purpose.

The city was trying to do what the draft would do: harness influencer culture for civic good. They were just... paying for it. Quietly. Behind the scenes.

So the draft isn't a fantasy. It's already happening. It's just happening without the accountability. Without the fairness. Without the draft order and the trade deadlines and the glorious, chaotic spectacle of it all.

Let's fix that.

Draft 'em all. Let the algorithm sort 'em out. 🏈📸