—All the laws of physics can be explained by appeal to the 12 signs of the Zodiac
Bigbossman’s got a PhD in physics. It sure surprised him to find this out
—When Christ returns to Earth, he’ll be a member of the College of Cardinals
Not the Pope, though. Also, Lutherans beware.
—Not even Jesus can get a book published at our press
So don’t feel too bad that your (actually pretty good) dissertation got rejected.
—Some of our authors really could sell cookbooks based off their name alone
However, when the first recipe is for nightshade casserole with arsenic sauce . . .
—Some people don’t read about our press, and send us original poetry
We have never published original poetry. Ever.
—If you submit really and truly awful poetry to the Press, it will get passed around.
The thought of doing a YouTube video of the Press staff reading it was floated. 10k hits, minimum
—Rejection letters are more fun to write as street poetry/Urban Folk.
I don’t think we actually used it, but here goes:
The (Happiness) Press would like to thank you for the time
And all the work you did in bustin’ out yo’ rhyme
But we read what you sent us, and I simply gotta say
That we just can’t use your masterpiece this day
So good luck in the future, and don’t let us get you down
Since we’re not the only ones who publish books around.
Well, the marketing and managing editor’s revenge is here: all the little things that make a day “special.” Before anyone asks, no, neither of these bingo cards are based on specific incidents or people (although a few more egregious examples do stick out)—not much point in waiting for something unique to happen again.
Plus, I’m pretty sure the really interesting incidents are covered under the publisher’s code of omertà.
Same rules as the last one apply, only now it’s the acquisitions department’s turn to pay—their just reward for inviting all these unique and highly valued people to publish with us.
The end of summer: new froshmenki show up for orientation, grad students pose as older siblings to mooch free food, and professors send us proposals for the books they’ve spent all summer working on. Oh, and the whole acquisitions department comes back from vacation at the same time. Suddenly, the term “slush pile” is depressingly literal. Why suffer when you sift through endless manuscripts? Grab an intern and a bingo card and start sifting through those stacks!
Each row of five—horizontally, vertically, or diagonally—earns you a coping mechanism at the local tavern courtesy of the marketing department.*
*Marketing people, don’t worry, your version is coming. Acquisitions people, start saving your beer money now.