Meryl Streep once said, as she accepted an Emmy: “You know there are some days when I myself think I’m overrated – but not today!”
Let’s be clear, I will never compare myself to the greatness that is Mrs Streep, simply because I’m better. But don’t take my word for it. TIME Magazine says so, in a letter I received yesterday. And who am I to argue with such an esteemed publication?
The letter read:
Mr KwAh Dad… (I’ve changed my name to protect the innocent. And my family.)
I am delighted to inform you that you have been selected as someone whose status qualifies for a PRIVILEGE PRICE on TIME, one of the world’s most respected and influential magazines.”
See, I’m considered to be a person who has significant status that qualifies for privileges. As English is my second language, I’m translating that into “You’re great and awesome and we would love to give you money”. The letter promised a free, TIME Executive Elite Watch if I was to return the completed order form and the necessary proof of payment of my intended subscription within 7 DAYS. (I copied the bold text straight from the letter)
The knighthood that TIME bestowed on me, provided a delightful saving of R75-00 on the annual subscription fee, which is about USD 5 with the way our currency is trading nowadays. I’m so tempted. What to do?
The letter furthermore motivates their reason as to why 22 million people are turning the pages of TIME magazine. The TIME people reckon it’s because of careful thinking, great writing and unbiased, first hand reporting, which is also an accurate description of my blog. TIME Magazine seems to be for people who are interested in the world we live in, those of us who wants to separate the crucial from the trivial, who converts information into knowledge and transform confusion into clarity…by reading a magazine. Or in other words, people who haven’t heard of a little thing called “The Internet”.
Are you shitting me? Are you telling me that I’ve wasted forty years trying to find the secrets to being happier? Did I waste precious TIME trying to find the truth, chasing knowledge, seeking clarity? Are you implicating that I could have skipped all the turmoil, agony and torture of making mistakes throughout my life by subscribing to TIME Magazine! I am such a massive fool!
To make the excruciatingly difficult decision of subscribing even more problematic, the people of TIME included a personalised card. I’m impressed, they must really know their target audience. I mean, what other seven-year-old father isn’t a sucker for personalised cards. Like this one…
What followed was the shortest discussion in living memory, between me, myself and I, as to whether I should reply to their letter. After all they deemed me to be awesome. Sending a reply is what decent, educated people do. (If you bothered reading TIME, you would have known this.) I don’t read TIME, and I’m far from decent, so no reply.
First off, I’m not sure if you can still buy stamps, which wouldn’t have helped me, as I wouldn’t be able to operate a non-electronic mailbox. Secondly, the intended reply will undoubtedly make me seem much less awesome. Amongst an array of f-bombs I would demand the name of the idiot who gave them my postal address, if only allowing me the opportunity to pull out his nails, one by one.
Receiving spam from such an esteemed publication is downright odd. I mean, has anyone ever received a letter from the National Enquirer? Or Playboy? It screams a little desperation, like when Neil Patrick Harris stomped the stage at the Oscars wearing nothing but a pair of white underpants and a goofy expression, making everyone in the audience feel really uncomfortable. I’m still having nightmares about that, by the way. Fortunately J-Lo had her boobs on display, again, and that made everything better.
Getting back to my esteemed status and the subsequent, prestige-worthy opinion: I’m thinking this is the beginning of the end for TIME.
Dear people of TIME, even though you consider me awesome, I have to decline the offered subscription. Not only because the discount is worth less than a soiled nappy, but because of the fact that I’m able to use Google. I understand that the Internet wasn’t just invented for Facebook.
Besides. Who needs TIME Magazine when you have teenagers in the house? They know everything already.