Hammer of the small (but rapidly growing!!) nonprofit

Slow posting because I've been working on a strange and last-minute editing joint (hey, I'm Spike Lee!) for a nonprofit that's trying to snag walloping shitboats of money from somebody. The application is long, complicated, and leftily earnest as all get-out, but the Drunkawife is involved so I won't even be able to make fun of it.

(Credit: The rolling pin lady is actually a greeting card!)

Update: Sorry, this is Spike Lee; the other guy is Spike Jones.

Update II: The Drunkawife bears absolutely no resemblance to the rolling pin lady. She would kick the rolling pin lady's ass and look good doing it. And I'm no prize anyway.

Update III: Caz lends support in comments:

Oh, you poor, poor, poor fool. I know the pointlessness of trying to snag walloping shitboats of money by filling in application forms that are too long, too complicated, too stupid, and written by nasty people with a pre-determined outcome (I know it's all a conspiracy). You have my deepest sympathies, and I hope you don't come out of this a lesser man. . . which is what happens to most people filling in these application forms: even the women.

I'm only about a foot tall now, Caz, so it's a little late to worry about becoming a "lesser man." Unless you're speaking figuratively, of course, in which case, yes, my soul is destroyed.

Destroyed.

Four sections of 250 words each. One thousand words to get across that the nominee is the greatest and most charismatic human being in this or any other universe (even a formaldehyde-based one), while also touting nominee's holy humility and selfless dedication to absolutely everything. Madness. One paragraph should have begun, "Though a living saint . . .

But we're near the end, so maybe I won't lessen up too much more.