Dear Pulitzer Prize Board:
I am writing this letter in support of my submission for a Pulitzer Prize in journalism. Even though your application process calls for no additional information except what is on the entry form and in the submitted articles, I feel that a corresponding letter is appropriate in my case.
After reviewing the various award categories, I found that, by your standards, there isn’t an appropriate way to recognize my journalistic achievements, which surpass levels of genius in proportions so epic I find myself blushing just writing about them. Some readers may be turned off by my assertions of greatness, but I had a professor who once said if you want to write with authority, you have to believe in yourself more than anyone else does. Then she started talking about hegemony or reality television – something inane like that – and I dozed off. Point is, I write with distinction because I write with distinction.
Additionally, my eminence is obvious from some of the stories I broke this year but, because my editor is a killjoy, the stories were euthanized. Yes, I know about the importance of checking “facts” and “using reliable sources,” but my degree is in journalism, not law! (Although, I did use some sly legal wrangling the other day when a reader accused me of slandering him. “That wasn’t slander,” I said, my air of prestige wafting between us like vapor rising from a freshly killed beast lying on the frozen tundra. “When you write it down, it’s called libel, dumbass.”)
One story I broke, for example, is about Harry Potter author J.K. Rowling pulling a quick one with the announcement of the title of the seventh and final book in the series: “Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows.” That will not be the title! When the book hits the shelves, you’ll see it clear that I deserve a Pulitzer: “Harry Potter and the Death of Harry Potter.” While I’m not sure what the book will be about, I do know that the last chapter will be called, “Die, sucker, die!”
I also showed considerable restraint as an entertainment writer last year. (Oh yeah, that’s what I do. I write entertainment stories – brilliant ones – for my college paper, which has never won a Pulitzer – another reason to recognize me.) I didn’t write one article about the Donald Trump/Rosie O’Donnell/Barbara Walters feud. Nor did I write about Kramer spewing racial epithets or “Grey’s Anatomy” star Dr. Burke’s anti-homosexual slur. (OK, I did mention them in a blog post on my newspaper Web site, but nobody read it except for my mother, and she thinks I deserve a Pulitzer, too. “It’ll look really nice on your resume!” she said.)
Another thing: I’m working really hard on improving my writing (as difficult as it is to improve upon greatness.) For one thing, I made a New Year’s resolution (which I hardly ever do because I don’t think you need a symbolic date to better yourself) to stop using so many parentheses in my writing (because I use a lot of them, which readers can interpret as insulting because the information inside them is often superfluous.) And that’s no way to go about winning a Pulitzer Prize, which was established by publishing giant Joseph Pulitzer (who I mentioned in a column last year about how crazy Clay Aiken’s fans are, and how I don’t want them to kill me.) My restraint alone is worth at least one of your medals, if not two. Maybe you could save one for next year?
My dear friends and colleagues, it is obvious that I deserve the Pulitzer Prize and the accompanying $10,000 award. I hope you see fit to invite me to your dinner this May, because it will probably be raining here, and rain makes me depressed and want to eat out, and there aren’t that many good places to eat around here. I could use a decent meal.
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