Before anyone else can apply, here is my application for White House press secretary

Sean Spicer has resigned as Donald Trump’s White House press secretary. And you know what that means: There’s a job vacancy just waiting to be filled.

To whom it may concern,

Thank you for taking the time to consider my application. As a 25-year-old man who cannot tie a tie and has zero government experience, I am very interested in the role of White House chief press secretary. I saw there was an opening on your staff, so I’ve spent the last few minutes updating my resume to no longer include my high school summer jobs. I do not understand the intricacies of the executive branch, I am bad at talking, and I do not command any respect, and therefore I feel that I would be a perfect fit to serve as the president’s #1 Communications Dude.

Although I have never worked in government before, I nonetheless have years of experience related to politics, ranging from listening to my friends talk about The West Wing to following Nate Silver on Twitter. I would bring a fresh approach toward media relations to the White House, as well as a working knowledge of Microsoft Word, Excel, and GarageBand. My passions include time management, team-building exercises, and pretending that I was kept in the loop about Syria instead of hearing about it for the first time on the news.

My strengths include never, ever bringing up Hitler, saying long words correctly, wearing two shoes of the same color, and hiding my bitter contempt for journalists. My weaknesses include many things that would normally disqualify me, but they’re definitely nothing worse than what you’re used to.

I am a detail-oriented nervous wreck, and if you choose to hire me I promise to pretend that all the wacky things you do and say are totally normal. If you tape a tie to my collar and push me in front of a camera, I’ll play whatever part you want me to play. I will quite literally dance and sing, if need be. Like any good press secretary, I have no ideological core to compromise. I am the definition of a blank slate; please, draw on me.

I currently own two suits and I am willing to buy a third if that’s what it takes to get this job. I am very eager to start saying things like, “Yes sir, Mr. president,” and will accept any salary or public humiliation that goes along with it. My only requests coming on-board would be as follows: 1. Please, oh God please, don’t make me talk to with Steve Bannon. I could probably handle sending him emails, but I am afraid to look him in the eyes. And 2. I would like two weeks paid vacation to somewhere other than Mar-a-Lago.

(I would also, at some point, like to talk about health insurance benefits, but I recognize that now might not be the best time to bring that up.)

I am ready to jump into this role tomorrow if you’ll have me. I am also prepared to wait to accept the job once a worse piece of news overshadows my appointment. If you would like to see any of my references, I would be very happy to send you a screenshot of my Reddit karma and a Polaroid photo of me scowling at a poor person. Thank you for reading my cover letter—I look forward to hearing back from you via a stream of furious, misspelled tweets.

Update: The post has been updated to note that Sean Spicer resigned.

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