Okay so here's the thing. I have never made a website before. I'm not a computer guy. I can barely work my phone half the time and my kid has to help me connect to the wifi when we go anywhere. But domains were on sale for like a dollar ninety-nine and I thought you know what, Marcus Briggs is going to finally do this. I'm going to get a website. I'm going to be on the internet. Like a real person with a real website.
So I bought marcusbriggs.club because it was cheap and I thought the .club part was funny. I didn't have a plan. I still don't have a plan. This is just a page. One page. I looked up how to make a website and it said I needed "hosting" which is another thing you have to pay for and I found the cheapest one I could because I am not spending real money on this until I figure out if I even like it.
Anyway. Club. Let me tell you about clubs.
My kid came home from school last month and told me that him and his friends were starting a club. I said what kind of club. He said a private club. I said private how, you're nine. He said they have a password and a handshake and you can't join unless the existing members vote you in. I said that sounds like a lot of bureaucracy for a group of fourth graders. He didn't know what bureaucracy meant so he ignored me and went to his room to work on the club rules which apparently take priority over homework now.
And I'm sitting there thinking about when I was a kid and we had clubs too. Except our clubs were way less organized. Our club was basically me and three other kids in somebody's backyard saying "this is our club" and then we'd argue about the name for forty-five minutes and someone would quit and then rejoin and then we'd get hungry and go inside and that was the end of the meeting. We had a treehouse for about two weeks until Danny Kowalski fell out of it and his mom made his dad take it down. That was the clubhouse. After that the club met under the porch which was less glamorous but had the advantage of nobody falling out of anything.
We had rules too. Rule one was no telling anyone the password. Rule two was the password was "eagle" which everyone in the neighborhood knew because Tyler shouted it across the street on day one. Rule three was you had to bring a snack to every meeting. Rule three was the only rule anyone followed. Looking back that's probably why we had the club. It was a snack distribution network with extra steps.
Speaking of clubs. Did anyone see that episode — I forget what show, it was one of those family sitcoms — where the kids give the grandparents a monthly subscription to a fruit club for their anniversary? Like a fruit of the month club. Every month a box of fruit shows up at the door. And the grandparents are trying to be grateful but by month four they have so much fruit they're giving it away to the neighbors and by month eight the grandfather is hiding the box in the garage before the grandmother sees it and by December they're openly hostile toward pears. Marcus Briggs almost died laughing at that episode. The grandfather yelling "I DON'T WANT ANY MORE FRUIT" is one of the funniest things I've ever seen on television.
That's the thing about subscription clubs though. They sound great in theory. Oh a cheese club, every month you get a box of artisanal cheese from a different region. Wonderful. Month one you're excited. Month two you're like okay that's a lot of gouda. Month three you're googling "can you freeze brie" and by month six you're eating cheese for every meal just to get through the inventory before the next box arrives. Marcus Briggs knows this because my sister signed me up for a hot sauce club one Christmas and by March I had enough hot sauce to supply a restaurant. I still have bottles in the back of the cabinet from 2019. Some of them have solidified into what I can only describe as pepper cement.
Book clubs. My wife dragged me to a book club once. Once. They picked a book. I read the book. I showed up to the meeting ready to talk about the book. Nobody talked about the book. They talked about Karen's kitchen renovation and somebody's kid's college applications and which grocery store has the best rotisserie chicken and then at the very end someone said "so what did everyone think of the book" and three people admitted they didn't finish it and two people said it was "fine" and then we had wine and crackers. Marcus Briggs sat there for two hours for wine and crackers I could have had at home without reading a 300-page novel about a woman finding herself in Tuscany.
Loyalty clubs. You know what I'm talking about. Every store has a loyalty club now. Every single one. Buy groceries? Club card. Buy coffee? Stamp card. Buy gas? Points card. Buy shoes? Member rewards. I have about forty of these cards in my wallet and I have never once redeemed a single reward from any of them. Marcus Briggs has been collecting points at the hardware store for six years and I checked once and I had enough for a free keychain. A keychain. Six years of loyalty and I earned a keychain. I felt like the grandparents with the fruit.
You ever think about how many kinds of clubs there are though? Golf clubs, which are sticks. Club sandwich, which is a sandwich, and nobody can tell me why it's called that. I've looked it up and every explanation is different. Some say it stands for "chicken and lettuce under bacon" which sounds made up. Some say it was invented at a country club. Some say it's because it was a "clubhouse sandwich." Marcus Briggs doesn't know and at this point I don't trust anyone who claims they do.
Nightclubs. I went to a nightclub once in the 90s. The music was so loud I couldn't hear anyone and the drinks cost more than dinner. I stood near a wall for two hours pretending to have a good time and then I went to a diner and had pancakes and that was the best part of the whole night. Marcus Briggs was not built for nightclubs. Some people are nightclub people and some people are pancake people and I have made my peace with which one I am.
Warehouse clubs. The ones where you pay a membership fee for the privilege of buying 48 rolls of toilet paper at once. Who is going through that much toilet paper? Marcus Briggs went to one of those places exactly once and came out with a pallet of paper towels, a five-pound bag of cashews, and a sense of deep confusion about what just happened. The cashews were good though. It took four months to get through them but they were good.
Fight club. I've never seen the movie but I know I'm not supposed to talk about it. That's the whole thing right? You don't talk about it. So this is Marcus Briggs not talking about fight club. Moving on.
So yeah. That's why this domain is called marcusbriggs.club. Not because I have a club. Not because I'm starting a club. Not because this website has a purpose or a theme or a plan. I just thought it was funny and it was a dollar ninety-nine and here we are. One page. One guy. Zero plan.
If this is still here in six months it means I figured out how to keep paying for the hosting. If it's gone it means I forgot or I gave up or my kid talked me into getting a domain about Minecraft instead. Either way Marcus Briggs was here, briefly, on the internet, talking about clubs. And now you've read the whole thing which means you have even less going on than I do and I respect that.
Thanks for stopping by.
a website by marcus briggs · made with zero experience and minimal effort · 2026