Rejection Is A Beautiful Thing

I love you.

I'm scooting off to work in a sec, but I needed to post a link to this beautiful rejection letter written by the one-and-only Hunter S. Thompson in 1971 in response to a piece of satire submitted to Rolling Stone magazine. I saw it posted on my beloved bible, the Gothamist (!!please hire me!!), this morning and felt the need to share it with my blog readership/my parents, who may be the only members of my blog readership.

You worthless, acid-smoking piece of illiterate shit! Don't ever send this kind of brain-damaged swill in here again. If I had the time, I'd come out there and drive a fucking wooden stake into your forehead. Why don't you get a job, germ? Maybe delivering advertising handouts door to door, or taking tickets for a wax museum. You drab South Bend cocksuckers are all the same; like those dope-addled dingbats at the Rolling Stone offices. I'd like to kill those bastards for sending me your piece... and I'd just as soon kill you, too. Jam this morbid drivel up your ass where your readership will better appreciate it. P.S. Keep up the good work. Have a nice day.

If I get rejected from another job, which I most certainly will, I can only hope that Hunter's ghost will fly from the heavens and tell me to "jam [my] morbid drivel up [my] ass where [my] readership will better appreciate it."

And people wonder why I've read Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas approx. 17 times...