The Guest Post That Was Too Provocative To Run

Whiny face

Dear XYZ Website,

I have a guest post for your consideration. It has now been rejected 1,298 times. I have been told it is too sad, too funny, too weird and too ordinary. Three out of the five editors at one place told me to go find a new house to haunt. I don’t really know what that means, but it doesn’t sound good to me. Halloween is almost a full year away.

Anyway, since I have a fragile male ego this criticism made me hide under my desk. Fortunately I was able to take the laptop with me and send out this note in the hope that you’ll accept this piece and then I’ll be able to come out from under the desk.That would be good because it is really crowded down here and my kids miss me.

The post is beneath the plus signs, that is unless you consider yourself to be a part of the Tea Party. If you are part of the Tea Party those are crosses that I put into the post to prove that I am a patriotic American who can sing every Lee Greenwood song that contains God Bless the USA in it.

Thanks,

Jack

++++++++++++++++++++++++++

 

I am not the cool guy and in spite of rumors to the contrary have never been him. That doesn’t mean that I never wanted to be him, because the truth is that I did. At least I used to want to be him.

I suppose that you can blame it upon the mean girl that I shared a classroom with in junior high school. If I had to assign responsibility to someone for helping to educate me about my lack of cool it would be her. I didn’t care about Guess, Jordache or Calvin Klein.

Polo, Lacrosse and K-Swiss were names that I knew but didn’t assign any sort of value to. At least I didn’t until she started in on me. I had thought that it was cool to pull my tube socks up as far as they could go. It was what we did, the boys and I.

That laughter and the taunting changed my mind. It fought not to let it show and for the most part I did a good job of not exposing how she and her friends had wounded me. I remember feeling confused and angry about it all.

New rules, that is what they were to me. New rules about how I was supposed to act and dress. Can’t say that I remember telling my parents about what was happening. It was too embarrassing to share so I opted to ask for money to buy the right clothes. Dad looked at me and said he was sorry but they were too much.

I asked again and he told me that brands didn’t make a person and that I shouldn’t rely upon clothes to make me feel good about myself. It was good advice, but hard to hear. Not long after that conversation one of the male friends of the mean girl decided that it was his turn to take a swipe at me.

That was better because I knew how to deal with a boy who messed with me. I used my nondescript sneaker to help adjust his attitude towards me. Who knew that aiming low could be so effective.

I’d like to say that this had some sort of “John Hughes” movie ending. I’d like to say that I figured out how to become the cool guy and ended up with a really cool girl but that would be a lie.

There was no metamorphosis into the cool guy, although I tried. In my head I saw myself turning into an 80s version of Rick, the character that Bogart played in Casablanca. Or if not him, some version of Clint Eastwood playing Dirty Harry. You know, the guy with the steely eyed glare that you knew not to mess with.

Instead I think that ended up being more like George Costanza. Although in fairness to my family we didn’t celebrate Festivus. There were no feats of strength of airing of grievances to deal with.

And now I kind of like being more like George than Rick. It is more fun and a little easier to be the wacky, kind of off center type of guy. But than again, back in the day being more like Rick would have made it a hell of lot easier to get laid.

I know one thing for certain. If I was Rick, Casablanca would have had a much different ending. Old Rick would have shot the Nazi, gotten the girl and headed off into the sunset for one hell of a life.

On the other hand maybe being like George is better. Rick is used to getting the girl and George isn’t. So by not getting the girl Rick ends up devastated while George just goes about his life because it is business as usual.

Maybe I should just shut up and go by myself a pair of Calvin Klein jeans, a Polo shirt and some K-Swiss shoes because that would make me so much cooler.

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5 Comments

  1. TheJackB July 5, 2011 at 5:16 pm

    @bdorman264 Stylin and profilin- LL Cool J comes to town.

    Hippie/Disco era is a time of bad clothing- I remember. 😉

    It takes a little time to get comfortable with who we are, but once we do life is more enjoyable and more interesting.

  2. bdorman264 July 5, 2011 at 4:57 pm

    Stylin’ and profilin’. Being older than you, I was between the hippie and disco era and don’t recall being that concerned w/ my clothes. Regardless, in my mind I was one cool dude; in reality, I wasn’t getting laid either.

    Teen years can definitely be awkward. BTW, I’m copying and pasting the post and you might see it in my place next week…………….under my name……………..:)

  3. columbiarose July 5, 2011 at 9:59 am

    @TLanceB I interviewed for a job once where I was told that I was “too intense.” But one of the company’s founders happened to hear some of the conversation, did a “come with me,” and created a job for me on the spot. Was a bit uncomfortable in the office for a bit for the person who hadn’t wanted to hire me, but the job I got was much more interesting than the job I didn’t.

  4. TheJackB July 5, 2011 at 9:23 am

    @TLanceB it is hard to say why people do what they do. A lot of these things are just arbitrary decisions that they make based upon however they feel at that moment, or so it seems to me.

  5. TLanceB July 5, 2011 at 4:21 am

    I have had two guest posts rejected for the same reasons – too provocative. Neitehr contained curse words, sexual language or people’s names. They were both considered “too intense”. Isn’t that like saying something is too interesting or too unique?

    I will see people’s websites and they will run posts with more f words that a Richard Pryor comedy record or detail their deviant lifestyle and wonder “did they think this was interesting?

    good post

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