Since the launch of “The Great Dysmorphia: An Epistemological View of Ingesting Hallucinogenic Mushrooms at a 2012 Presidential Debate” certain people have been on me to come up with a fun contest for promotional purposes.
After all, I probably have less than four weeks to shill this before Election 2012 is over, Mitt Romney’s finally cutting my (bank’s CEO's) taxes, and no one will care about the year’s improbable forgotten horse-race. Dreams of Rick Santorum will quiver in our sleeping mind's eye and nothing more.
Contests are fun, but not unless you have a decent challenge and a good prize, and I couldn’t come up with either. That is the brilliance (not laziness!) of “The Great Dysmorphia” Ambiguous, Inscrutable Open-Ended Contest: I don’t know what the winner has to do, and I don’t what the winner will win.
This is where you come in, Contestant.
The Contestant can execute any idea he or she has that in some way promotes “The Great Dysmorphia” that is within reason and feasibility. This may be as simple as wearing assless chaps around town with the title of the work somehow displayed on your bare buttocks. Or as simple as CCing me on a letter you wrote to your favorite liberal blog (or better yet, sending a vicious denunciation of the piece to Sean Hannity). Or as convoluted as befriending Anderson Cooper’s significant other and convincing him to withhold sex until Cooper has a three-part series on TGD.
Only common sense rules apply: don’t do anything cruel, bigoted, destructive, or stupid. Whatever the case, by Election Day, I will have chosen and crowned a winner (or not; again, see the title of the contest). I’ll be most impressed by cleverness, creativity, and originality, but way, way, way more impressed by someone who gets me sitting across from Chris Matthews absorbing his spittle into my pores.
You then get to collect your prize. What is your prize? You get to decide that as well. Please alert me whenever you enter the contest, so I can at least be prepared (email@example.com). Obviously, your prize can be anything, and just as obviously that means anything within reason or feasibility. For instance, you want me to buy you a beer? Feasible. You want me to give you $1,000 in unmarked twenties. Not feasible.
You want me to triple kiss with you and your girlfriend? Reasonable. You want to hire a prostitute to baby-bird puke in my mouth? Not reasonable.
You want me to write a profile of your artwork/ band/ jewelry business on RedEye? Feasible (unethical, but feasible). You want me to ghost write your memoirs? Not feasible.
You want to go to the Lincoln Park Zoo together? Feasible. You want me to get you on a date with Channing Tatum? Not feasible. (Although I may be able to get Ernest Wilkins or the best-looking bartender in Lakeview, my friend BooDaddy! but I hope you like talking about Cleveland sports teams).
Obviously, I’m also looking for funny, creative ideas, and obviously, I will be putting good ones up on the blog (or not; again, check out the title). Obviously, friends and relatives and others who have a conflict of interest are more than welcome to apply, and in fact, encouraged. Especially my buddy, BooDaddy! who may now get a date out of it.
Send ideas, letters, explanations and prognostications to firstname.lastname@example.org.