I’m all sorts of fucked up today, because someone took it upon themselves, to update all of the clocks around work back one hour so they wouldn’t forget over the weekend.

As a result, I thought I arrived at work an hour early, and almost went back home. I thought I had an hour to prepare for the morning meeting, when, in fact, I was actually late. Also, I was late for an appointment with a contractor to discuss installation of one of my projects. It’s been an amazing morning.

And to that special someone (who chooses to remain anonymous) who took the liberty of changing the clocks: a hearty Fuck You! No more liberty taking damnit.

Speaking of taking liberties, I decided to send my open letter to the Prime Minister of Malaysia (aka yesterday’s entry) to McSweeney’s, because what else does one do with an open letter?

Here is the reply I received from John Warner, editor of McSweeney’s.net :

Jeff:

This tempts me very strongly because it's good and funny and great satire, but it just isn't quite right for us. I think you should query Salon with this. They might be interested.

John Warner

Now, I don’t feel bad about this because McSweeney’s doesn’t really do “political.” That it was rejected is completely overshadowed (in my mind, anyway) by the fact that they enjoyed it. Words like “good,” and “funny,” and “great satire”? Holy shit. What a compliment.

That is probably one of the best compliments I’ve received in my adult life. I mean, forget about the constant praises from my parents. Phrases like, “you’ve worked so hard, and we are so proud of you,” and “we know you’ll accomplish great things,” and “you really deserve this success,” feel great, but I sort of expect that sort of support from my parents.

I’m not sure why praise from complete strangers feels better than praise from people who actually know and love me, but yesterday it did.

Anyway, after reading this email, I ran around my apartment, squealing like a little girl, except, you know, more manly.

And then I forwarded it to Salon.com. Let’s see what they think of it.

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