Why wasn't I informed about this?

Last week, the Portland Mercury began an online gift auction. Among the items listed was the opportunity to design the front cover of one issue. The auction ended two hours ago. Flip!

Had I known about this before the deadline, I could be on the road to vengeance. You see, a year ago I applied for a production internship at the Mercury. For some strange reason I didn't get the job. This could have had something to do with the rampant grammatical errors of my application or the work samples I provided that were crayon drawings of tanks on the back of a Red Robin paper place mat. Regardless, I'm still convinced that I wasn't hired because of the editors are a bunch of no-good, hateful, xenophobic, black-hearted, racist hipsters.

Well, racist against people that don't wear vintage clothing or faun over vinyl singles by unknown local punk bands. Oh, how I loath those happy Whos, er, indie rockers living in Whoville, er, east Portland gallivanting around town with their weekly rag funded by a east-coast media conglomerate. Am I jealous playa' hata'? Of course not. *Sniff*

Had I won the auction, my cover would have been a stroke of devious genius worthy of both Dr. Moriarty AND Dr. Pepper. The Mercury prides itself on its sardonic covers. Mine would have made those malevolent hipsters cry while simultaneously wetting their pants. It would have been simple, b & w cover with the following words written in 70-point font.

We secretly wish we were working for Willamette Week.
We also love red meat, actually detest
the local music scene and haven't
allowed a single drop of PBR to pass
our lips since we relocated here from
LA.

OK, fine. Maybe it's not so great but, in my defense, I just found out about this auction ten minutes ago. The cover eventually sold for over $600 (!!!), likely making some trust-fund artist in Laurelhurst extremely happy. Would $600 and a month without food or shelter have been a worthy trade for retribution? Maaaaaaybe.

Meanwhile, someone paid a whopping $105 for a dream date with editor WM Stephen Humphrey. There's a story behind this but we'll probably never find out what it is.

To read about the rest of the items, click here.