The job search is getting desperate...

As many of you already know, I am currently in the midst of a grueling, self-esteem ruining job search. Basically, what happens is I fire off my resume again and again into that howling void of nothingness and despair known as the job market, only to suffer as the echoes of my own unemployability and obsolescence come back to me, whispering to me that I should have majored in marketing, should have majored in journalism, should have majored in anything but English Literature and Sociology. It’s sad. What’s even sadder is that there are so many unattainable, lavishly-paid jobs that I’d excel at had I the credentials and/or the connections. Here are just a few:

ONE: Newspaper opinion columnist

I’m sorry, but this has to be cushiest goddamn job the world has ever seen. Getting paid cash money to spout off a few hundred words twice a week? Hell, I could do that in the five minutes between breakfast and the crapper! Do you hear me, Star-Tribune? I’ll be your word-whore—I’m cheap, I’m facile and I’m flexible. What do you need? A guy who casts a “quirky” eye on all the boring-assed aspects of domestic life? A mild-mannered liberal who acts like all America ought to care about what happened at a Burnsville school board meeting? A bearded cat who writes faux-gritty pieces about bar owners named Sal and how the beauty queens in his day were much better than these skinny tarts you have today? Whatever you need, I’ll do it. Christ, I’d even be one of those conservatives who are shocked, shocked! about whatever bullshit controversy they’ve made up this month—although, if I’m gonna do that, I’m going to need a fake name. I have my dignity to preserve, after all...

TWO: Late-night satellite television show trend guru

Now, I should probably admit it right off: I’m not always up on what the kids these days are doing. This doesn’t really matter, though, not when you have an aptitude for coming up with breezy nonsense that, when combined with the imprimatur of a down-market Dish TV station, just might convince a handful of stoned dudes a few minutes from passing out. Do you doubt me? Well, my friend, perhaps it behooves you to check this shit out:

—“Ideas are what powers innovation in the global marketplace of the future. To thrive in this post-postmodern economy, a business must be a dolphin—swift, agile, intelligent. The days of the sperm whales—your IBMs, your Fords, your General Electrics—are long gone and good riddance, I say! I’m a dolphin man, and my stock purchases reflect that!”

—“It may be just me, Walt, but it seems like Hollywood’s getting ready for another summer of blockbusters and big busts!”

—“Let’s get down to brass tacks. I want to talk about men’s shirts: in 2006, tight is alright and stripes are mighty nice. Back to you in the studio, Lou Dobbs!”

—“You see, Oprah, sexy will always be ‘in’, but these days, what’s ‘in’ is even sexier. And, make no mistake, it’s a take-no-prisoners kind of sexy. A sexy that says I’m here, I’m ‘in’, and I’m sexy!”

THREE: Guy who writes the rap songs that tell kids not to use drugs

Look. I understand as well as anyone that trying to keep kids off drugs is a losing game. There are few tasks more futile and lame than explaining to children the horrors and misery and family shame that will be heaped upon them if they use illegal drugs. This is especially true since, in our culture, it is apparently unacceptable to speak about mood-altering chemicals in any way that isn’t distorted by hysteria and bullshit. And it is especially especially true because anti-drug educators so often prefer to present their hysterical bullshit in a way that shows that they have no idea what the young people of today are into. I am talking, of course, about astonishingly bad public-service rap: a beat so stale even that French hip-hop infant would have thrown it back, some adenoidal voice rhyming stiltedly about “demon crack”, and maybe a backup chorus of soul singers without any soul. You know, the sort of music that smart kids in college sit around getting high to. I have no shame. I can dash off a few hundred of these if there’s some money in it for me. For instance, has there ever been one of these ditties written about khat? Well, there ought to be!

Hey, friend, listen to what I say
It’s MC Clean, kickin’ it real today
Gonna rock the mike, gonna get the flow
Gonna tell your health class what you got to know
Talkin’ about a lil’ weed from Africa’s horn, yeah
Think it’s harmless, but I gotta warn ya
You start eatin’ that stuff
Life’s gonna get ruff
‘Cause that khat ain’t so hot, yo!
They call it khat, qat, jaad, and mirra too
The Djibouti chew, down in Mogadishu
Messes up your mind, tastes real rude
Keep that ol’ khat-dealer away from you!
Take too much, suckers get faded
Hyperactive, psychotic and constipated!
What’s that, you’re feelin’ like tryin’ some?
Want something to get you all wired up?
Man, you better stick with the Diet Coke
‘Cause that khat’s one baaaaad joke!