Dr. Who?

Yesterday I bumped up against a deadline for a literary magazine that will soon be publishing some of my erudite humor.  I say "bumped" because I waited until the last minute to submit my responses to the editor's mandatory list of pre-publication questions. Included in the list were several legal questions such as:

Do you swear that this material is yours and is not plagiarized or lifted in whole or in part from some other work?

and

Do you own the legal rights to this work?

Well . . . these are easy.  I've never plagiarized a sentence in my life.  Why would I?  If I can't submit my own work, what's the point?

But the questions that gave me pause were these:

In 45 words or less tell us about yourself and why our readers would find you interesting?

and

How are you currently feeling about life?

I'm not joking . . . these were the questions.  And I love them.  These editors know how to rap.  But I was having problems getting my thoughts in order.  I wanted to be cute and funny and insightful all at the same time.  So, here's what I submitted.

In response:

The readers need to meet my wife. They would be impressed. Impressed that a guy like me chose so well and, in doing so, has earned the right to be admired and respected.  Anyone reading this piece will also suspect that I am a highly-educated fellow of some classical learning who has by now forgotten most of what he learned, including the notion that he could once read Latin.  Readers will also note that I am high on life, but have very good relationships with legions of funeral directors.  I can be reached through my blog, should anyone desire to correspond with me, but I am frequently out of the office, as I am attempting to transition my children out of the house.