I have a job interview coming up, and since my columns are available online, I should probably be on my best behavior this week. I should probably write a faux column about how much I love kittens, or how mean Hitler was, or perhaps share a really great recipe for apple brown betty. It would be smart to do that, but honestly, I don’t give a sh*t.I cease to give a sh*t. I shan’t give a sh*t. I hath none shits to giveth, evermore.I know human resources people will research me online. I know they’ll find a treasure trove of offensive material that any dope could use to make a case against hiring me. It’s almost impossible not to do so. I’ve published 1,202 humor columns over the past decade. 1,201 of them include the word “poop.” The comedy troupes I’ve been in have produced a dozen videos online where I make a fool of myself. My favorite is titled “Rape Cologne.”I’ve started online petitions, using my real name, demanding that we replace American currency with Reese’s Peanut Butter Cups and force Wisconsinites to use sodomy as the only form of currency. I’ve petitioned to behead wealthy people for all crimes, even just parking tickets, and to require athletes to have photos of their shrunken testicles printed on billboards when they get caught using steroids.In the past week, I’ve posted at least 100 comments on various websites in which I accuse recently deceased painter Thomas Kinkade of “selling glow-in-the-dark turds out of shopping mall toilet stalls.”Don’t get me wrong. I care about getting this job. A lot. I really need a full-time job, and this position I’m interviewing for would be perfect. But after 10 years in the real world trying to hide my comedy habit from employers, I no longer give even one-quarter of one-eighth of one percent of a shit about potential employers researching me online. Let them research. Let them snoop. Let them use a fake account to friend me on Facebook and then curl their lip over a curse word I used in a post. I no longer give a fat shit. The things people post online give no insight into their work ethic, demeanor, or general usefulness in the workplace. Look at me. I write jokes about poop on the internet, yet in real life my work references include the chairman of a film studio, the president of a major indie film studio, and an executive producer of the longest-running TV show in history. Sorry you didn’t like that joke about Snooki trying to snort cocks up her nose like cocaine, but you’re the one who spent hours digging for it. I didn’t put it on my resume.I know hiring people is a difficult job. Predicting whether an employee will be a flake is about as easy as predicting the winner of the Super Bowl 20 years ahead of time. This uncertainty causes us to dig for as much dirt as possible. But snooping around people’s Facebook pages won’t tell you much. You’ll learn how much they love Florence and the Machine and what their high score is on that Draw With Friends game that people use to send drawings of penises to each other, but mainly you’ll just end up overthinking what should be a very basic decision. Do they have good experience and references? Do they seem to live up to their credentials in person? Then hire them.My first real job after college was as a reporter for a small newspaper. After I was hired, the editor jokingly made a reference to one of my humor columns from college. He had researched me online before hiring me, and found my entire website, with every childish column and blog post I had ever written. I asked why he hadn’t brought it up, and he said it wasn’t important. My work experience, references, and demeanor in the job interview were solid. My website’s edgy content only confirmed that I had a sense of humor. I worked at that newspaper for four years and did quite well, even winning a few awards. My editor had no regrets. As long as I wasn’t talking about him in those columns, he didn’t care. And neither should anyone else.So don’t take offense when I say “I don’t give a shit” about you finding this column, HR people. It’s just my friendly, mildly kinky way of welcoming you to my personal life, and reminding you that you really have no business here. So browse and enjoy, but remember that none of this provides any insight into my future at your company. The only thing this column proves is that I’m incredibly handsome, which may prove overly distracting to your female employees. I think that’s worth the risk.
P.S. If your browsing leads you to any columns about “diarrhea waterparks” and people who wish there were more diarrhea in diarrhea waterparks, those articles weren’t written by me. Those were written by Congressman Paul Ryan (R-WI). He is a filthy, filthy man.