Overqualified: clean your body with fire


To: Human Resources
Re: Aliant Telecom.

Thank you for taking the time to review my resume. I have to apologize for the bluntness of this cover letter. It is only through this channel, this job application form, that I have any chance of fooling it into letting my message get through. I need your help. I think the internet is trying to kill me. You have to hire me, give me access to your server rooms. You have to help me destroy the internet.

I have tried to kill myself three times in as many days. I spent six hours on the internet this morning, having shallow conversations with a dozen of my friends. They kept asking "how do you feel?" and posting the little hug icon from MSN. I feel empty inside. When was the last time I really paid attention to a conversation? I'm multitasking all the time now. I can do a hundred different things at once, and at the end of the day I can't remember. I honestly can't remember.

And it's your fault. It has tendrils in millions of homes, all through the country, and I understand why you feed it, why you're doing this. You get thirty dollars a month for every home, for every connection. You're feeding it, and you're getting fat yourselves, but it can't go on. I can't let you profit from the lives of my friends and family. You have to help me.

You have to tell me where it lives. If I can find the head, the heart, the brain, I can destroy it. I can set everyone free with one small act of violence. We need to burn the internet to the ground. We need to find out if it has had a chance to lay eggs yet.

Have you had any trouble breathing lately? When was your last x-ray? There could be eggs anywhere in your body. We have to stop it. We have to clean your server rooms with fire. We have to tear out its backbone.

I know that the internet lives somewhere in the tunnels underneath the Aliant Telecom offices in Halifax. There have to be tunnels, there's no other explanation.

Please. Hire me. Give me the access codes to our salvation. If I am in the computers as an employee, it won't see me come, gasoline can in hand.

Yours,

Joey Comeau