From the Mar 11 – Mar 17, 2004 issue

Columns

HUMOR NAZI

I wanted to take a writing class offered through your company. For an application, you vaguely requested a "letter of interest" (creativity a plus!). In my letter, I explained that, as a poor college student, my willingness to pay nearly $700 for your course should convey my level of interest--money, I explained, that I could just as easily spend on a bale of pot and a tanker of Schmidt's Ice. I got no response. So I applied again, in haiku form. This time you rejected me, proclaiming my pot reference immature, my tone unprofessional and "unfunny," and banned me from submitting any more applications. My professionalism shone through when I called you a humor Nazi, then applied to your class again under a pseudonym, sans haiku and pot reference. You accepted me within the hour. Unfortunately, you caught the name on my credit card, and voided my application. You weren't ever going to let me in the class, even if I presented you with a fucking novel of interest. Lucky for me, I asked the man you hired to teach the course if I could attend. Did I mention I work in his office? So now I'm in the class, and you're out my $700 entrance fee. Oh yeah--I also killed your dog. Just kidding! See, I am funny.

--Anonymous