Pitching My Upcoming Autobiography
To All Potential Publishers For My Autobiography-
Greetings! So glad you found me in my little corner of the blogosphere. I assume you've come to ZFS! to offer me a large canvas sack with a dollar sign on it filled to the brim with freshly minted hundred dollar bills in exchange for the rights to publish my life story. Trust me, you WON'T be disappointed!!!
NOTE: If you came here looking for cheap Cialis and/or bulk shipments of horse tranquilizers due to an ad I placed in the back of Hustler, I'm sorry. I'm out of stock until the steamer from the Philippines docks again. Keep checking Hustler for updates! Also, Ladies Home Journal.
Now, Publisher-type peoples, you're probably wondering, "Just who IS this devilishly handsome young writer with the mysterious (I'm sure) past and the sort of lips you just want to chew on like a Rottweiler with a piece of rawhide?" Well, let me give you a brief rundown of my spectacular life; a life that you'll no doubt agree will really move hardback copies and top all the bestseller lists in the country, provided you... ya know... do your part (bribe the New York Times with an oil barrel of fine champagne and a years supply of monocle wax). So, without further adieu...
MY PULITZER PRIZE-WORTHY LIFE: A SYNOPSIS
I was born into a large Irish family, one of thirty-eight children. We were so fucking poor. We ate shoes and famine potatoes and our dad beat us because he was Irish. He was also a drunk. And he always took the best shoes to eat for himself. One day, in a fit of rage, I killed him with an heirloom that had been in our family for generations (note: it turns out to be the DaVinci Code; KA-CHING!!!).
After killing my father, I went on the lam... gambling and graphically (but not so graphically that we can't get on The View) whoring my way around the United States until one day I ended up winning a ticket that allowed me a spot on the Titanic! Wait... did the Titanic leave from the US and sail towards Britain, or the other way around? It started in England, right? That's what I meant. I was in England because... oh, right! I had fought in World War I, which I think was before the Titanic sailed. Yeah, I was a war hero... saving lives, fighting the Nazis (note: I know that Nazis were only around in WWII but I'm pretty sure most Americans won't make that connection, besides... Nazis sell; KA-CHING!!!), and using my magnetic personality to woo my way into the beds of all the famous, fine ladies of the day (Clara Bow, Dorothy Parker, Reese Witherspoon).
Anyway, so the Titanic sank! They told me it was supposed to be the strongest ship in the world, but they hadn't counted on one thing... Hitler's Robot! That's what really sank the Titanic. I should know; I fought the damned thing. Unsuccessfully, of course, but that's okay... every autobiography needs a little adversity for it's hero (me) to overcome. Hitler's Robot... it was my nemesis (and it looked like a human, so in the movie version of my autobiography it can be played by Russell Crowe OR Will Smith; I'll leave it race-neutral so we can keep our options open).
So I finally made it to America! But there were Indians!!! They were savage beasts, provided it's not too un-PC to portray them as such. If it is, then they were gentle and taught me how to grow maize.
I worked the hard land, just barely getting by on my 32K a year salary earned as a data processing clerk for a mid-level advertising firm. It was there that I met the love of my life, Britney Spears. (note: If Miley Cyrus is of age by the time this goes to print, we'll use her; Britney's name may help our overall sales, but I don't want people thinking I have chlamydia). We had a whirlwind romance, marked by an abundance of steamy, classy "love-making" scenes that will make this such a big hit with the Tyra crowd. But then... tragedy! She left me for a teenage vampire!!! Noooooo, crushing, dramatic sorrow!!! My one, true love ran off with a hunky, high school-aged vampire who will really draw in the tween readers... what an unexpectedly profitable twist! (note: KA-CHING!!!) Fortunately, I can always lean on my best friend, who is a young, British wizard... um... I guess I haven't mentioned him yet... well, I met him in England, before the Titanic, before the war, when I was attending a school for wizards. We had tons of CRAZY adventures that will teach kids lessons about sharing and why it's important to floss, making this book the perfect gift for parents to give to their children (provided they're okay with all the raunchy descriptions of sex acts).
The point is, after losing my one true love to a gorgeous, mass-marketable vampire who will really help broaden our target audience, I became President. My running mate? Hitler's Robot. I rehabilitated him (using the DaVinci Code) and we fought Hitler together in a thrilling climax that will shock and astound the readers. Also, we arrested terrorism.
The story ends with me and Barack Obama holding a dance contest for charity. We hug and he forgives me for MS Painting myself onto his book cover so we didn't have to pay a graphic artist. The world is healed by my goodness and grace.
But wait... on the last page... the teenage vampire comes back, angry that he got the clap from Britney Spears, looking for revenge and to set up our sequel!!! It's available for pre-order on Amazon.com!!!
THE END...?
And the best part of this whole story? Every single word of it is COMPLETELY true! (note: I will NOT go on Oprah!).
So, my best Publisher-type friends... who wants to make just a shitload of money? The bidding starts at a cool one sack of hundred dollar bills. I will also accept a cardboard box full of hundred dollar bills. C'mon, folks... don't be shy... let's sell ME to THEM and make our millions!!! And if this synopsis hasn't completely sold you, well then, maybe I can interest you in a shipment of boner pills? They're completely legal, provided you're not a cop. YOU HAVE TO TELL ME IF YOU'RE A COP!!!
2 Comments:
Nice ring.
I have some bad news for you. I'm not sure how you got your hands on it but what you have posted is practically word for word identical to my next project, once I'm done molesting your childhood by remaking A Nightmare on Elm Street and Friday the 13th. Hired goons are now on their way to your apartment with a baseball bat and a sawed-off pool cue (named Cease and Desist, respectively) to discuss your project. We may be able to go easy on you, provided you can make with some of those boner pills, however.
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