Spend Your Summer Writing for Cracked, Drowning in Panties
For a big chunk of the people reading this, the arrival of Summer will kick off three straight months of hurriedly trying to build a pyramid of corpses on a train track in Red Dead Redemption before the train can come along to obliterate them. I respect that choice, but you should know that from the same comfortable sitting position, you can use that spare time to make a million people think you're awesome. Plus, you can get money to buy more video games.
I'm talking about the "no experience needed" process of writing articles for Cracked.com. Basically, you click here, read the post and reply to it. Then we let you into the secret clubhouse where the writers hang out. All 10,000 of them. We don't ask to see a resume. We don't allow you to show us one. We don't care. We let you in the door, you give us a sample of what you want to write, if we like it, we pay you to write the rest. Then you will have earned the love of somewhere between 300,000 and 2,000,000 strangers.
Think about it; Shakespeare's plays were performed in front of audiences of a couple of thousand people. Over the course of an entire year his work would be seen by, what, half a million people? You, on the other hand, can write one article for Cracked about ridiculous album covers and get 1.5 million hits in two weeks. Think about that the next time you're staring blankly at a Jersey Shore marathon and wondering if your life will ever have meaning. If that doesn't move you, I'll let the testimony from this recent contributor spell it out:
I signed up to contribute articles a month ago, and was surprised how effortless the process was, considering that I had accomplished so little in my life up to that point that my resume consisted of nothing more than a picture from my parents' photo album recording the first time I successfully pooped into a toilet. My article I wrote for you ran yesterday. By the afternoon, it had been read by enough people to fill a medium sized-city. By evening, I heard a sound that I mistook for a violent hailstorm. I rushed to the window to see that it was in fact the sound of hundreds and hundreds of panties hitting the side of my home, as local women were driving by and hurling them at my house. This is very upsetting to my wife and children, is there any way to make them stop?
No, there is not. That's the life of a Cracked contributor. If you're a male, your genitals are now the subject of a fierce bidding war. If you're a female, you now have a lifetime supply of free panties in your yard of various sizes. We absolutely guarantee these exact results for 100% of our writers.
Cracked is growing at an alarming rate, and we're positively desperate for contributors of various talents to feed an ever-hungrier audience.
If you want to write feature articles, like the aforementioned album covers thing or this piece on why space travel sucks, you need to sign up for the writer's workshop here. There's always a line but it only takes a few days for us to get to you.
If you want to write topics pages (pages on a general subject, headed by an infographic such as this one on College Drinking and this one on the Pirate Bay ), just go here and you can get started within seconds. If we like your page, you get paid.
Don't waste your Summer. Sign up now, then head to the hardware store ASAP and buy a good quality panty rake.