Dear sirs and other assorted animals

People want to believe that their car is special, individual. When I was working the lot at the used car place, we used to keep a car out back and we would shove dead pigeons under the hood. Dead pigeons, man. That car was waiting for the perfect customer, a little old lady with a wicker purse. We convinced her the car ate pigeons. She was thrilled. We sold haunted cars, cursed cars. We sold cars that made you lucky in love. We sold cars that famous people had spat on.

(From an application letter to Toyota.)

As Goldfinger said: “Once is happenstance, twice is coincidence, and third time it’s enemy action.”

Well, this is the second time someone refers me to Joey Comeau’s fake job application letters, but I am a lazy git, so I already declare enemy action. By which, of course, I mean writing this entry.

Here’s some more, from a letter to Microsoft:

You have billions of dollars, and I will spend as much of it as I can. I don’t know what I will spend it on, and that’s part of the point. Tomorrow I’ll wake up and I’ll want to fund robotics research to make prettier butterflies that land on the fingers of children. I’ll want to give the world another credible Loch Ness Monster sighting, another downed UFO in the desert, another moon landing.

Tomorrow I’ll wake up certain that money can make the world into the best kind of theme park, where nobody knows they’re being had, where the suspension of disbelief is reinforced by seeing everything on the news at night. The news at night should have more smiling faces.

Let’s hope Joey will never ever get a job.

(Via Clancy’s.)

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