Hey, that was easy.
After a few weeks of not hearing back from the good folks at McSweeney's about my latest list submission (and mercifully letting you forget about it for a while, too), I decided to resend the thing. Just a quick little 'hello, haven't heard back!' sort of note. Polite. Courteous. Needy.
And, less than twenty-four hours later, I heard back!
They weren't interested, so much.
So, fine. As is my policy, if McSweeney's doesn't want it, then you get it.
(It's not that I love you any less, mind you, not giving you first crack. It's just that you haven't posted a submission policy and made yourself a nice header image and tagline to look all official. And stuff.
Or maybe you have. If so, then yeah -- I love you less. But only just a little. You can still sleep over, though, if you want.)
Anyway, a rejection note means but two things to me these days. One, the next bit of drivel is already speeding its way to the editors, even now. Very few moments will elapse when I don't have a big bolus of nonsense in the hopper.
And two, the bruised, lonely, rejected fluff goes right here, so you can have a turn at it. And if you need more hot listing action, hop on over to Charlie's Big List of Lists for more.
Enjoy the silliness, folks. Just -- you know -- be gentle with it. This baby's been through a lot already.
'Oh, the humanity!'
'Well, piss on Kanga and call me Roo!'
'DON'T YOU MAKE POOH SLAP A BITCH!'