As mentioned in my last column, many of you believe I’m uniquely unqualified for my job. Hey, I’m not arguing! In fact, I’ll do you one better: I’m not only unqualified for this job, I’m woefully unqualified for 96 percent of jobs in America, and that includes being a jizz mopper at Mr. Peeps. So instead of endlessly repeating the obvious, you should be asking this: “How can I get Wm. Steven Humphrey’s job?”
Short and unnecessarily cruel answer: HAHAHAHAAAAAAAA, YOU CAN’T.
Why? Because I’ve spent the last two decades building an impenetrable fortress of employment for myself. Over the years I’ve made literally thousands of batshit crazy decisions at the Mercury that have resulted in a Jenga-style business model that’s so convoluted and baffling, it’s like working inside a M.C. Escher painting. Any self-respecting editor attempting to take on my thankless nightmare of a job knows exactly what they’ll face: a horrifying, spiraling descent into utter madness.
Besides, and trust me when I say this, even if you could do my job (and you can’t), YOU DO NOT WANT IT. Unless of course you enjoy spending nine hours a day fielding letters about how much you suck and arguing with employees over why we can’t have an office cat. (I’m allergic to animals that delight in showing me their anus.)
Sure, I could quit… but what would I do? The one job I’d be actually be qualified to perform isn’t an actual job… at least not yet: editor-in-chief of Nextdoor! As you know, Nextdoor is the most horribly grating social media network that isn’t Facebook. However, I’m convinced it could actually be useful if someone—anyone!—would just edit the shit out of it. Example: If I were in charge, I would establish an instant ban on grandmas calling the police on homeless people for “stealing” their recycling cans. But I could also offer the average user editing advice—such as the person who wrote this real Nextdoor submission: “We’ve had our diesel truck tank emptied by siphoning thieves. Thanks assholes 😬.” Okay, this is pretty confusing, so I’d suggest the following edit:
“To the siphoning thieves who are also regular readers of Nextdoor: First of all, I apologize for owning a diesel truck, because they are the worst. However, when you siphon my gas, it hurts my feelings! Sure, I suppose it’s possible that my gas wasn’t stolen, and was used up by my husband during his most recent trip to get cargo shorts at Ross Dress-for-Less. But if you actually did siphon my gas, and you’re not a Nextdoor grandma who just happens to be reading this? Thanks, assholes! 🙃 P.S. To the Nextdoor grandmas: An upside down smiley emoji indicates ‘sarcasm,’ which I used because I wasn’t actually thanking gas-siphoning thieves! I mean, why would I do that? By the way, look out, a homeless person is stealing your cans!”
Yer pal,
Wm. Steven Humphrey
Editor-in-Chief
Portland Mercury
This is hilarious