Here’s the kicker: he’s actually making real money from this. His custom cutting boards sell for $150 each, and they have a waiting list. He laughs about it—that dry, sarcastic laugh you remember—saying, “I used to get paid to predict failures. Now I get paid to make sure your onions don’t slide off the counter.” It’s wild how much more satisfied he sounds.
He also takes on occasional consulting gigs for small hardware startups. Not the flashy ones. The kind that make actual tools and things that don’t need a software update. He told me in a DM (yes, I slid into his DMs, no shame) that he “only works with people who can show me a prototype, not a pitch deck.” That’s pure Jonathan Kerrigan energy.
What About His Old Critics?
People from his past life have opinions, naturally. Some call him a “sellout” to the very cynicism he built his name on. Others say he’s just having a midlife crisis in Carhartt pants. But here’s the thing I love: he doesn’t care. In a recent Q&A, someone asked if he missed being “relevant.” He replied, “I’m more relevant to a chisel than I ever was to a conference panel.” Ouch. But also, bravo.
He still reads the news—can’t fully detox, right?—but he doesn’t engage. He told one interviewer, “The internet is a hyperactive toddler, and I’m done babysitting.” That line went viral in his little woodworking community. His fans are now a mix of older craftspeople and ex-tech workers who are burned out and looking for peace. It’s a small tribe, but it’s real.
Who Is Jonathan Kerrigan? Career, Family and Casualty Fame
