Rejection in under five minutes. Guaranteed.

Technological advances like indoor plumbing and online porn aside, I think our forefathers had it real good back in the day. They lived in the bliss of ignorance, cheerfully sunning themselves on the porch or shooting gophers whilst the railroad and Pony Express took weeks, even months, to deliver news. Letters and telegrams, practically yellowed with age, would announce the unfortunate (past) events: Your parents passed away. Your house and crops have been traded to the Indians. I, Eunice Cuthbert, do not accept your hand in marriage; I am betrothed to another.

You'd sigh, shake your head in disgust, but there weren't nothin you could do 'bout it because it was too damn late and life had already moved on, with or without your permission. You might as well take a piss out back, jerk off to the Sears catalog, and do the same.

Fast forward to present day. Three voice mail systems, two email accounts, IM, text messaging, blogs, not to mention good ol' fashioned Fed Ex and 1-2 day "snail mail," all determined to inform you that you didn't get the job, that hot guy never responded, and no, you weren't on the invite list of "Ken and Ariel's Ultimate Kegger." Instant rejection and failure, brought to you by Verizon.

Curiously, the speed in which our fragile psyche is crushed to smithereens does little to dimish the illusion we're somehow in control. Instead, it promotes an even more ominous condition: false hope. What do we do? We whip out our little devices and start furiously punching away, convinced we can avert the unavoidable. "There's still time, I can fix this, I am not a big fat loser who will die alone with sixty cats!"

Instead of wasting valuable time, energy, hair and sex drive on life's inevitable potholes, let's toss our handhelds and follow in the footsteps of our great nation's forefathers:
Take a piss out back, jerk off to the Sears catalog, and move the heck on.