I’ve been working in my current place of employment now for over five years, in a variety of capacities. I’ve been a magazine news editor. I was promoted—largely against my will—to managing editor. Now I’m a combination of both news editor and managing editor. I like to think of myself as an editor chameleon, because chameleons, let’s face it, are pretty cool.
Still, having toiled now for over half a decade for the same company, it’s only natural for me to start looking beyond the employment fence to greener pastures. The tough thing is, however, I’ve always had a knack for writing, so the sphere in which I typically seek employment is primarily limited to the communications and marketing fields. While there’s nothing necessarily wrong with those fields, I’ve come to discover there are a maddening number of other professionals just like me who have a knack for writing. So, it’s a competitive sphere, in other words.
Well, as I sat brooding last week, following an e-mail rejection notice for a job as an editor for Playboy Magazine (I was SO close to my dream job!), I noticed an interesting news tidbit flash up on my screen, which took my mind off of Jenn Sterger appearing in Playboy, which was pretty hot.
According to a March 12 Fox News report out of Jerusalem, “The Israeli ambassador to El Salvador has been recalled after he was found drunk, naked and bound in sexual bondage gear in his yard, an official said Monday.”
Now, up until that point, I had never really considered a career as an ambassador. From everything I’d seen of ambassadors, they struck me as an uptight, overly formal lot. Their’s was a world of tuxedos and palatial ballroom dances, with a sprinkle of international intrigue thrown in to spice things up. Such was my understanding, so news article about the Israeli ambassador came as a lightning strike to me. Could I have been wrong all these years? Could the lives of ambassadors actually consist of drunken, naked bondaged revelry?
“Two weeks ago, El Salvador police found Tsuriel Raphael naked outside his residence, tied up, gagged and drunk, Israeli media reported. He was wearing several sex toys at the time, the media said. After he was untied, Raphael told police he was the ambassador of Israel, the reports said.”
It’s at this point where I realized something; I believe the worldwide community of ambassadors crafted the image of themselves as stuffy and overly formal so the rest of the world wouldn’t want anything to do with an ambassadorial position. I lived in perpetual fear of being appointed to some random ambassadorship, at which point I’d have to sacrifice all semblances of a life. Or so I thought. That’s what they wanted me to think, so they could keep their lifestyles of debauchery all to themselves. Well, now I know the truth! And I want in!
“The British Broadcasting Corp. reported that (Raphael) could identify himself to police only after a rubber ball had been removed from his mouth.”
RAPHAEL: Irm feh ahmbaffador of Iffreaw!
POLICE: What?
RAPHAEL: Irm feh ahmbaffador of Iffreaw!
POLICE: Still can’t understand you. Here, let’s take this rubber ball out of your mouth, okay?
*SHPOP!*
RAPHAEL: I’m the ambassador of Israel!
“The embarrassing affair was one of several involving Israeli diplomats in recent years. In 2000, Israel's ambassador to France died of cardiac arrest in a Paris hotel under circumstances the Foreign Ministry refused to publicize. Media reports said he was with a woman who was not his wife at the time.”
So, it’s official. I’m now going to eschew my journalistic career path and start actively seeking an ambassadorial appointment.
If you don’t hear from me for awhile, it’s because I’ll have moved overseas to seek Israeli citizenship. I hear they have an ambassadorial position I may be interested in.
Posted by Ryan at March 15, 2007 11:36 AM | TrackBack
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