I'm Not Qualified to Write This Post
Well folks, Spring is here which, for most people means love is in the air. For the nerdy, pasty, internet obsessed tech crowd, however, (that's you, Cracked.com readers!), it means one thing: South by Southwest. That's right, the 22nd Annual South by Southwest Festival, a celebration of music, movies, technology and the internet, is going on all this week. Bloggers, pseudo-celebrities and nerds everywhere are flocking to Texas for a week of boner-inducing inter-news, and as an incredibly important and influential Cracked Blogger, it's only natural that I should be in attendance. I don't mean to brag, but as an experienced journalist, I have somewhat of a knack for sensing when something huge is about to happen and, let me tell you, I had one hell of a hunch that this particular SXSW festival was going to be different. Something big was going to go down, and I wanted to be there when it happened. If my hunch was accurate, (and they always are), this story could almost guarantee me a Pulitzer. Alternately, I heard Jenna Fischer was going to be there, and I’ve always kind of wanted to ask her if she’s ever seriously considered taking a shower with me.
fucking life-changing that, after you read it, your head will literally spit your eyes right off your god damn face because your brain would realize that there’s no point in reading anything else ever. Got that? Your brain says you don’t even need eyes anymore because you already read the most important article ever conceived. That’s how fucking Ninja Turtles this article is.” I paused to let my words sink in, and because I accidentally spit all over myself in my excitement. “If I told you I could write that article and get it up on Cracked by the end of the week, would you just shit your pants, or what?” I could tell I had him.
“Probably not, no,” he answered. “But I’ll admit it, you’ve got my attention.” I also had his wallet, but he didn’t need to know that.
“You can have that article, Jack to the Future-”
“Don’t call me that.”
“-and all it would take on your part is a plane ticket to Austin. One little plane ticket, and you’ll have the article that’ll change the world. One plane ticket … and a few other incidental expenses,” I mumbled as I pulled out my expense proposal.
“Incidental expenses?” Jack looked skeptical. I was worried, but then I reminded myself that Jesus’s editor probably looked skeptical when Jesus handed over his expense proposal that may or may not have also included a beanbag chair full of corndogs.
“I know what you’re thinking, Boss, and trust me, it’s just the essentials.” I handed over the proposal and he started skimming through it.
“Well,” he started, “already it looks like we’re gonna have some problems.”
“Problems,” I asked.
“Yeah. The first item on the list: You’re asking for a stretch limo? And two rooms in a five-star hotel, for some reason, a diamond-studded top hat, a sandwich gun, which isn’t a thing, by the way, you made that up. Uhh … it looks like you’re asking for $900 for ‘miscellaneous pimping,’ two grand for heroin, and this last item … I mean, it looks like you’ve just drawn a picture of yourself on a jet pack, I don’t … I don’t know what that means.”
I went to visit Cracked’s Head Editor Jack O’Brien last week to see about getting a plane ticket to the event… “Let me ask you something, Jack Rabbit-” I began “Don’t call me that” he interrupted. “What if I was to tell you that I’m planning an article so controversial, so inspirational, so
I smiled, lost in the brilliance and eloquence of my proposal. “Dan, I gotta be honest … I can’t give you any of this.” “Why the hell not?” If I hadn’t already swiped his wallet, you can bet your ass I’d have been swipin’ it then. Swipin’ it like a motherfucker. “Well, gosh, Dan, so many reasons. We don’t have this kind of budget, for one thing. A good portion of the items on this list aren’t real, and uhh, some of these things, I just wouldn’t feel
Some more of Daniel's stuff can be found here and sometimes here. But not here.