Olivia: The idea of being ‘normal’ is the biggest lie marketing ever sold us. It wasn't a natural state; it was a business strategy to keep factories running. And that strategy is officially broken. Jackson: Whoa, okay. That’s a bold start. ‘Normal’ is a lie? My entire high school experience feels personally attacked right now. But a business strategy? That sounds a little conspiratorial. What’s the story there? Olivia: It’s less of a conspiracy and more of a forgotten history. And it’s the central idea in a fantastic little manifesto we’re diving into today: We Are All Weird by Seth Godin. Jackson: Ah, Seth Godin. The marketing guru. I feel like his name is whispered in reverent tones in boardrooms everywhere. Olivia: Exactly. And he’s the perfect person to make this claim. This isn't just some academic theory for him. He founded one of the very first internet marketing companies, Yoyodyne, and sold it to Yahoo! way back in the late 90s. He’s been watching this shift from the front lines for decades, long before most of us even had an email address. Jackson: Okay, so he's got the credentials. I'm intrigued. What does he mean ‘normal’ was manufactured for factories? That sounds like a sci-fi plot. Olivia: It almost is! But it’s the perfect place to start. Godin’s argument is that for about a century, the most efficient way to make money was to build a giant factory, create a million identical things, and then convince a million people they all wanted that exact same thing. The factory came first, the customer’s desire came second. Jackson: So the goal wasn't to meet a need, but to create a need that fit the machine. Olivia: Precisely. They needed average products for average people. And to get that, they had to sell us the idea of ‘normal.’ They had to make being different, being ‘weird,’ seem undesirable. Because weird doesn’t scale in a factory.

Jackson: That is a fascinating way to reframe it. It makes so much sense. But is that world really gone? I mean, I walked into a supermarket yesterday and saw an entire aisle dedicated to what feels like one brand of soda in fifty slightly different-tasting versions. Mass seems pretty alive and well to me. Olivia: That’s the perfect question, because it gets to the heart of the nuance here. Godin isn't saying mass is completely gone, but that the center is melting. The gravitational pull of ‘normal’ is weakening. He illustrates this with a brilliant comparison. He asks you to picture two places. First, the town of Normal, Illinois. Jackson: Which I assume is… normal? Olivia: You assume correctly. It’s a fine town, but it’s defined by sameness. You’ll find the same chain restaurants, the same big-box stores, the same cars you’d see anywhere else in the country. It’s predictable. It’s efficient. It’s the physical embodiment of the mass market. Jackson: Okay, I can picture it. It’s comfortable, but maybe a little boring. What’s the second place? Olivia: The corner of First Avenue and 8th Street in Manhattan. He paints this picture of standing there and seeing a rich uptown lawyer, a tattooed downtown kid, tourists from Japan, a Ukrainian butcher shop, a Japanese stationery store, a punk rock clothing boutique… all on one corner. It’s chaotic, inefficient, and gloriously, unapologetically weird. Jackson: And his point is that the world is becoming less like Normal, Illinois, and more like that Manhattan street corner. Olivia: Exactly. The data backs it up completely. Think about media. In the 70s, the big three TV networks had a 90% market share. If you wanted to sell something, you just had to advertise on one of those channels. Today, that share is less than 30%. Jackson: Right, because we’re all off in our own little corners of YouTube, TikTok, and a million streaming services. My ‘normal’ viewing is someone restoring old tools, and my neighbor’s is competitive cheese rolling. Olivia: Competitive cheese rolling! That is perfectly weird. And that’s the point. There is no single campfire anymore. Our culture is now a collection of thousands of tiny, vibrant campfires. Godin wrote this book back in 2011, right as this shift was hitting a critical mass, and it was incredibly prescient. He saw that trying to be ‘normal’ for everyone was becoming a losing strategy. Jackson: It’s interesting, because the book got a really mixed reception from readers. Some called it a revolutionary manifesto, but others said the idea of niche markets wasn't new. It sounds like the difference is that Godin isn't just talking about a marketing tactic, he's describing a fundamental shift in human desire. Olivia: You’ve nailed it. He’s saying we don’t want to be normal anymore. We want to be seen for our specific, unique, weird selves. And that desire isn’t just some random whim. It’s being powered by four unstoppable forces that are fundamentally reshaping our world.

Jackson: Okay, I’m ready. Give me the four forces. What’s the jet fuel for weirdness? Olivia: The first is Amplified Creation. The cost and friction to create and share something—a song, a book, an invention, a political idea—have dropped to virtually zero. Anyone can be a publisher. Jackson: The second is what he calls Increased Wealth, but he defines it in a really specific way. It’s not about being a millionaire. It’s about having the time, safety, and resources to make choices beyond basic survival. Olivia: The third is Efficient Niche Marketing. The long tail is real. You can now find and sell to the 500 people on earth who are obsessed with collecting vintage staplers. And the fourth, which ties it all together, is Better-Connected Tribes. The internet allows those 500 stapler fans to find each other, validate their weirdness, and build a community around it. Jackson: Those four forces together sound like a recipe for an explosion of individuality. It makes me think about what it was like for creators before this era. Olivia: Godin brings this to life with a heartbreaking example: Vincent van Gogh. Here was a man overflowing with a unique, powerful vision. He was the definition of weird in his time. But he was completely isolated. He had no amplified creation, no connected tribe. He sold one painting in his entire life. He died thinking he was a failure because the mass market of his day had no place for him. Jackson: That’s devastating. If Van Gogh were alive today, he’d have an Instagram account with millions of followers, a thriving Etsy shop, and a Patreon where his tribe would support him directly. He would have known he wasn't alone. Olivia: He would have been a rock star! And that’s the profound difference these forces make. To see it in action, look at a company like Threadless, the T-shirt company. They have no art department. They are a platform. Jackson: Right, the users submit the designs and everyone votes on them. Olivia: Exactly! It’s a perfect storm of the four forces. The artists have a platform for amplified creation. The customers have the wealth—the choice—to buy a shirt that perfectly expresses their niche interest, whether it’s about astrophysics or cats playing poker. Threadless uses efficient marketing to reach these tiny niches. And the whole thing is powered by a connected tribe of artists and fans who share a passion for cool, quirky design. It’s the absolute opposite of the Van Gogh story. It’s weirdness not just surviving, but thriving. Jackson: So the lesson for any business, or any creator, is to stop trying to be Van Gogh’s art dealer, trying to guess what the non-existent ‘masses’ want. Instead, you should be building the platform for the weird to find each other. Olivia: You build the campfire and let the tribe gather. Godin tells another great story about the history of bread. For centuries, bread was weird—every village, every family had its own recipe. Then industrialization gave us Wonder Bread, the ultimate mass-market, ‘normal’ product. For decades, it dominated. Jackson: But now? My local grocery store has an entire aisle of artisanal, organic, gluten-free, sourdough, seven-grain… It’s a library of weird bread. Olivia: The center melted. Wonder Bread is still there, but the energy, the growth, the passion—it’s all on the fringes. It’s in the weird. And that’s true for bread, for music, for hobbies, for politics. The future belongs to those who serve the weird.

Jackson: This is all clicking into place. So what's the big takeaway here? Is this just a manual for modern marketers, or is there something deeper for the rest of us? Olivia: It’s much, much deeper. And it comes back to Godin’s redefinition of the word ‘rich.’ He argues that true richness isn't a bank balance. It’s the freedom to make choices. He tells this quick story about a fruit vendor in a small village in India, a man who makes maybe three dollars a day. This man chooses to spend a significant chunk of his money on a small solar-powered lantern. Jackson: Why? Olivia: Because it allows him to keep his stall open for an extra hour after dark, earning more money for his family. In that moment of choosing, of taking control of his destiny, Godin says that man is rich. He has agency. He has a choice that matters. Jackson: Wow. That puts it in a totally different perspective. It’s not about what you have, it’s about what you can do. Olivia: Exactly. The core message of We Are All Weird is that embracing your unique passion, your specific interest, your ‘weirdness,’ is an act of freedom. It’s you exercising your richness. And for businesses, or anyone trying to make an impact, the path forward is to stop trying to force people to be normal and start enabling their weirdness. Help them make choices that matter to them. Jackson: So the practical step for anyone listening, whether they run a company or just a book club, is to stop asking, "How can I appeal to everyone?" Olivia: And start asking, "Who are my people? What is their specific, wonderful weirdness, and how can I build something just for them?" It’s a shift from broadcasting to connecting. Jackson: I love that. And on a personal level, it feels like a call to action, too. It makes me wonder, what's one 'weird' interest you've been hiding or downplaying that you could lean into this week? Olivia: That’s the perfect question to end on. Find your tribe. We'll be here with ours. Jackson: This is Aibrary, signing off.