Can you believe it’s already been 40 days since I was satirically dubbed one of the “go-to” guys for submitting content to the Barstool Instagram? I guess time flies when you’re stuck in a no budget, dystopian sequel to Groundhog Day, minus the meaningful characters, dialogue, plot points, and climax.
In all seriousness, things have been apocalyptically boring and redundant, as you all probably know from first-hand experience. The highlight of my month was the split second in which I found out there was an erotic fan fiction novel written about me (one of my long-term goals since getting hired by Barstool), before instantly and horrifyingly realizing it involved my raging pedophiliac desire to fuck the ethanol out of Jacob Sartorius.
(You’re welcome for not including any of the text from the story)
But yeah, other than voiding my bowels and shoving dry Q-tips in my tiny, cauliflowered ear canals like I’m making a GDP spin-off, the only excitement and pleasure I get out of life these days is receiving DMs from attractive women (hold on now).
This brings me to my original point: It’s been six weeks since Nick published a blog detailing exactly how to NOT get your content posted on the Barstool Instagram (by sending it to a sociopath who harasses strangers on the internet for a living and pleasure), and the submissions have still been rolling in on a daily basis, from all genders, each being somehow less interesting than the last.
In a perfect world, every pupper would be treated equal and get its own little feature-weature on an Instagram account with millions of followers. That’s the American Dream after all — to have your doggo be a 13/10 viral star while you spend your life deteriorating in front of excel spreadsheets for long enough to afford a headless week of nagging in Nags Head every summer with your wife and kids until you prematurely die of heart disease before retirement.
But alas, as the interim general manager of the Barstool Instagram account, I have a stringent set of requirements that one must fulfill in order to even obtain a response from me:
– Be a woman
When that pea-sized avatar pops up in my Instagram DMs, and there’s even the slightest hint of discernible feminine features within those limited pixels, the left hemisphere of my brain completely shuts down and my pituitary gland goes Pol Pot mode. I don’t care that I’m being “used for clout” or likened to an automated computer program, I’m involuntarily responding. Every time.
Go ahead. Treat me like a CAPTCHA robot. That’s hot to me. I don’t give a
And I don’t care if she degrades me or compares me to the, uhhh, most important and essential food group of the Barstool staff. If she’s a woman, I’m entertaining her without even thinking twice.
Besides, you can probably imagine my boss’s untamed joy when I told him I discovered a rare talent – a blonde college girl who likes getting drunk and eating food – to add to the roster. I HAD to reply to her.
A bikini-clad Tik Tok trope of sunburnt Sun Devils attempting to reenact their dance sequences from a Hard Summer set?
Easiest response ever.
But I’m not THAT easy. I’ll give you my artificial interest but I’m not just going to post any old video or picture all willy-nilly just because you’re a girl.
I have integrity and standards after all. But everything changed on Sunday, when I finally received a submission I personally deemed worthy of mass exposure.
Yes, it came from a female. But yes, it was also funny, topical, and selflessly submitted from someone who wasn’t even chasing the glory or credit for such an epic rebuttal. I had to make her submission process as easy as possible.
As easy as, say, the average Blackboard discussion post assignment for an entry-level college class.
And I’ll be damned if she didn’t absolutely nail it. She must’ve studied the syllabi I handed out at the beginning of the semester. So, without further adieu, I present to you her submission post right here, on the Barstool Sports website: