We Thank You For Your Interest

The good people at McSweeney's would like me to know the following:

[rejection]

Hi, REDACTED -

Appreciate your trying us again, but I'm afraid we're not going to use this
one.

Best,
Chris

--

Christopher Monks
Website Editor
[/rejection]

I know, right? The smug arrogance. The casual dismissal. The utter sadism of the thing. You don't want to use my work, fine, but to couch it in such vile, vitriolic, personal and, frankly, cruel language seems a bit beyond the pale, I think you'll agree.

It's one thing to not want to use someone's list of alternative names for Nancy Drew's vagina. Those are editorial decisions that get made by professional agreement, all above board and business-like, a thousand times a day in a thousand different forms of media. It's something else entirely to take a hand extended in good faith and instead of a hearty handshake among equals, lopping the hand off, running it through a food processor until it makes a paste of wet crumbs, add 1/4 cup cornmeal, a sprig of rosemary, a beaten egg, a tablespoon of deli mustard, salt and pepper to taste, turning it into an ungreased bread loaf pan, baking it at 350º for 45 to 60 minutes, set aside to cool, then serve in a shallow bowl garnished with the bitter excrement of unrealized dreams.

"Appreciate your trying us again..." I've not faced such a naked epée of soul-splitting sarcasm since "We're so glad you're marrying our daughter."

And yes, thanks for the reminder of the again, the little dribble of lemon juice on the inch-deep papercut you've already once raked across my fragile heart.

You know what, as this is not my first run-in with these sociopaths, let me just translate the entire piece for you, as a public service, so you know who/what it is you would be dealing with should your will to live drop to so low a point that you consider submitting yourself to the thousand pinpricks of indignity that is the McSweeney's Editorial Gatekeeper process:

[We think it is adorable that you are allowed to use a computer at your day-home and choose to waste it sending us your useless drivel. Would that it were physical mail as we would enjoy also receiving your pocket lint or perhaps a parakeet you've accidentally killed while trying to show it affection, either of which would be gifts on par in value with what you have sent us in literary terms. We] Appreciate your trying us again [as it amuses us so to watch you scramble through the maze, agonize of the choice of which lever to push when finally you reach the end, not knowing that there is no peanut to be had, but only electric shock on either hand, the only difference being the severity of the shock, one being an immediate wish for the preferential blackness of death, the other merely excruciating], but I'm afraid we're not going to use this
one. [And note that I say "this one," implying that you should try again. We get so bored with competence.]

[I am the] Best [whereas you suck],
Chris

--

Christopher Monks
Website Editor [and Irish bogman corpse fetishist]

Subject yourself to this sort of abuse at your peril, compañeros. You can say you tried your best. You can say it just wasn't your day. You could say drinking hand sanitizer for the ethyl alcohol when you've run out of Crown Royal caused you to stare, completely unmoving, at a slightly askew window blind for 11 straight hours, terrified it was just about to ask you to define Habermas' conception of the public sphere even though you hadn't considered that since college, in your last semester when you stopped reading the required texts entirely and coasted on nonconfrontational pat answers and your first-name-basis relationships with your professors.

But you can't say you weren't warned.