The Sky’s The Limit

No world professional cycling team has gotten in touch with my representatives yet. While that offer still stands, suddenly, I’m overwhelmed by other enticing job opportunities in every imaginable sector of the economy.

I’m thinking about taking one of the many seats now available in Congress. The House would be cool, but I like the ring of Senator Byrnes and not having to fund raise non-stop. Nothing against Kansas, Minnesota, Texas, Nevada, or Arizona, but I think I’ll hold out another few weeks so that I can choose among even better states. Looking at you Colorado, Washington, Oregon.

ESPN analyst could be a cool gig. Living exclusively with hopelessly sports-challenged women, I don’t get to talk sports too often, but I could throw that switch. It would be a shame wasting talent like mine on reporting scores and spewing statistics. Maybe an eponymous sports and culture show or one dedicated to endurance sports.

Celebrity chef. I have that special cooking somethin’ somethin’ and I’ve grown accustomed to the fame this blog has brought me. Mercurial, check.¬†Telegenic, check.

Hollywood actor/director/impresario. How hard can acting be? I’m mean they’re all pretending. And barking directions and funding projects? Not exactly rocket science.

My charm, smarts, and humility make me an excellent candidate for all of these openings; however, a few other things truly make my selection a no-brainer. I don’t make inappropriate comments to women about their appearance. I don’t grope women. I don’t ask them to come to my hotel room for “meetings”. I don’t greet them wearing only a bathrobe. I don’t expose myself to them. I don’t force myself on them. I don’t threaten them with reprisals.

I always thought my education, work experience, and professional friendships would tip the balance in my employment favor. Suddenly, not being a sexual predator Trumps all of those things.

 

 

 

2 thoughts on “The Sky’s The Limit

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