Are you a high-level public figure who's just been fired because of gross incompetence, a homosexually-charged sex scandal and/or just generally acting like an asshole? Sure you are! But when you're forced to tuck your tail between your old, bloated, white legs and announce why you've "decided" to leave your cushy job, what's the best way to go out?
Fear not-CRACKED has carefully studied recent history to surmise the classiest methods of involuntarily throwing in the towel.
Primary Technique: Say you want to spend more time with your family (the members of which probably hate you by now anyway, but don't mention that part).
Groveling, pathetic variations of "I want to spend more time with my family" have become synonymous with forced resignations, much the same way that "I can't comment on an ongoing investigation" has become synonymous with "Yep, the Bush Administration committed another wacky felony!"
A great recent example comes from ass-chinned former Steelers coach Bill Cowher (right), who pulled off a perfect execution of this classic move in January after half-heartedly steering the '06 Super Bowl champs to the bottom of the AFC. How'd we decide which of the hundreds of fitting examples to use here? We'll let the sweater do the talking.
Primary Technique: Kiss your boss's ass, kiss it passionately, and don't be afraid to explore other nearby areas with your tongue.
If you've agreed to forfeit your high-profile job, you might as well forfeit your testicle-pouch as well. After all, doing so might secure you that nice severance package you were hoping for. Or-as in Donald Rumsfeld's case (left)-it might grant you the pleasure of living the rest of your life in peace, instead of in the windowless basement of a secret CIA prison which, if you've never been there before, is strikingly similar to that crotch-electrocution dungeon in Lethal Weapon.
As far as we can tell, Rummy's still alive; so the Undercarriage-Lick is a safe option to use, although an unbearably humiliating one:
Primary Technique: Talk a whole load of shit about the people who took your job.
Rather than Undercarriage-Licking both your old boss and the guy who took your job, some shitcan-ees choose to walk out the door accusing everyone within pointing distance of federal crimes. Class act Tom DeLay (right) did just that in an interview following his June 2006 resignation (during which he struck a desperate, partisan, "I ain't done shit, man" tone, despite mountains of evidence suggesting that he did lots and lots of shit). To be fair, DeLay was simply following the wisdom of that classic saying, "When the going gets tough, blame all those other dudes for everything."
Primary Technique: Call your bosses cheap in front of the whole country.
If former Deputy Attorney General Paul McNulty (left) had taken an actual swing at his boss, Attorney General Alberto "The Law Can Suck Me" Gonzalez, he probably would have been sent to that same Lethal Weapon prison they threatened Rumsfeld with. So the titanium-balled McNulty did the next best thing, claiming he had to resign because the government didn't pay him enough to support his children, or in his words due to "the financial realities of putting two kids through college."
This backhanded bitch-slap of a resignation is great on two levels. If you haven't been following the Gonzalez scandal, and decide to take his word that he can't put his kids through college, the resignation is a very clear, "I'm better than this shitty job, fuck off." If, however, you understand that he's pissed, and just not allowed to say anything, you realize that this is him not even trying to put together a believable excuse, and basically just acknowledging, "Yeah, it's what you all suspect."
Primary Technique: Lie and say you're doing a selfless, heroic thing by resigning.
If you watch Richard Nixon's 1974 resignation today and don't know a bit about history (this, of course, doesn't describe you, dear CRACKED reader), you might think that he was selflessly resigning due to a pressing family illness or to join the priesthood. He describes how he bravely persevered "through the long and difficult period that was Watergate."
Wait one goddamn minute, Dick Nixon-how do you bravely persevere a felony you're directly responsible for? That's a lot like bragging about how you bravely persevered that time you killed a hooker. This is a risky move, and should only be attempted by experts. (Apologies for the weird video, but that there's the real audio.)
Primary Technique: Issue a half-assed written statement and blow
young boys town.
Despite the faults of Mark Foley, the man who gave the Foley Shuffle its name, this can be an excellent way to make the best of a bad situation. For example, when was the last time that cowering in your office and hiding behind a delicately-worded email served you wrong at work?
Similarly, Congressional pederast Foley issued an apologetic written statement and, like a homosexual Keyser Soze, disappeared into thin air. Of course, his workplace sin was trying to round third base with a child-while yours, we hope, wasn't nearly as bad.
Primary Technique: Tell off your boss using the word "fuck" liberally.
If the above methods prove too intricate for you (and they damn well could; the men who pulled them off are skilled professionals), then you can always opt for the FYFYYCIO, a method made popular in that one scene everyone loves from Half Baked.
While rarely used in high-profile public situations (so far; though we're holding out hope for a Dubya impeachment, which would almost definitely go the way of FYFYYCIO), this resignation is effective in a pinch, abundantly clear, and, above all, user-friendly. The name really says it all.