An Antidote to Your Job Search Ills

Always on the prowl for improved employment opportunities, I banged out this succinct, well-crafted cover letter to send to perspective employers. I think it's a winner. All you need do to apply it to your own personal situation is change around a few words. Kind of like Mad Libs.

I guarantee Goldman Sachs will be barking down your door in no time if you use the following:

Dear Sirs, Madams and people who may be able to pay my child support,

I am writing you not only to inquire about the positions you may have available at your esteemed corporation, but also to inform you that, if hired, you will have under your wing the totality of my epic awesomeness - a force reaching echelons of douchebaggery the likes of which haven’t been seen since Jesse Spano did drugs to stay up and study.

-Remember when Sarah Palin went back to Alaska and shut the fuck up? I'm more awesome than that.
-Remember when Bambi’s mom got pwnt by a dude with a glock? I’m more awesome than that.
-Remember when the T-1000 punched his arm through that chick’s face? I’m more awesome than that.
-Remember Paris Hilton, that guy and night vision? Yeah. Definitely more awesome. Because when I make porns (and I do), the camera work doesn’t look like the Blair Witch Project.
-Remember when Jar Jar Binks got his head knocked off by a moving city bus…

Shit, that last one didn’t happen, but if it did, I would be more awesome than that.

Just to help quantify the breathtaking enormity of my awesome quotient, I’ve laid it out in simple chapter and verse form below, using an easy-to-understand formula based on the size of some normal household items:

A spatula < A loaf of bread < Yankee Stadium < Mars < Patrick Ewing’s Penis < MY @WESOMENESS

Hopefully that makes sense, but it might not because I was a liberal arts major.

My point here? I will bring this formidable, nut-stomping power to your company with the commanding authority of Vince Carter at a Special Olympics Dunk Contest.

For reference, you should know that I own no fewer than three (3) Sean Jean suits. I drive a black (I’m not racist) Ford Explorer (go America!), and nary a moment passes when rap music or ‘90s rock isn’t blasting from my factory-installed panty-wetting speakers. I’ve hooked up with many girls, none of whom shopped heavily at the Girth Department, lacked front teeth, or were below a beer-goggle 7, say.

I drink Red Bull.

You should hire me.

Kindest Salutations,

D. J. R. Hennessey, Esq.