Another Year of Failure

Once again a year has gone by, and I did not get an Oscar or a Nobel Prize despite having put together a couple of really excellent PowerPoint presentations.

Damn Al Gore!

I was not voted Sexiest Man Alive despite the fact that I lost 30 pounds.

Damn Matt Damon!

I was overlooked for the Pritzker Prize despite having designed -- and even constructed -- a very novel and successful housing for my new trail-cam.

I did not win a MacArthur "Genius" grant award despite the fact that, by my calculation, I won every argument I got into.

The Pulitzer Prize committee managed to overlook my work again, saying they really did not have a category for "a series of random quotes gleaned from newspapers and magazines." Well yes, but I was quoted in those damn articles. A freaking Dictaphone can do what a reporter does. Oats are not improved having been run through the horse. The Pulitzer people disagreed, of course, and asked me, via restraining order, to stop calling their offices to argue the matter.

I did not win an Emmy, a Tony, or a SAG award despite some truly magnificent performances feigning interest in repeated stories told by others, which really were not that interesting the first time they were told.

The Country Music Association took no notice of my fine work singing backup in the truck with Lyle Lovett on the CD player.

The Rock and Roll Hall of Fame chose not to honor my excellent Led Zeppelin air guitar solos.

I did not win the Archon X-Prize for Genomics despite my deep thinking about canine devolution within a closed registry system.

I was not considered for the Templeton Prize despite having founded the First Church of Field and Stream.

"The People" did not chose me for a People's Choice Award. I was similarly passed over for a Golden Globe.

Now, to tell the truth, this last one is fine with me because I would not accept a Golden Globe even if one were offered.

I have standards. And the Golden Globes -- given by the foreign press -- is beneath those standards.

"He's big in France," is the unkindest cut of all.

So to sum it up, this year has not been a banner year.

On the upside, by Mr. Soichiro Honda's calculation, I am about halfway to success. Another 50 of these kinds of years, and I may be ready for a Darwin Award. And really, isn't that the award with the very best name? I think so!


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