Making My Case For People's "Sexiest Man Alive"

Dear People Magazine,

Last week, when Ryan Reynolds was named “Sexiest Man Alive” by your publication, I nodded at the selection and grunted approval. “Gruh,” I said. “Mm.” But in my post-announcement sleuthing, as I moved my eyes across the pack of super-hunky also-rans on my screen, I found a curious omission from the conversation: me. “Am I not as sexy,” I asked my co-workers at the paper burning plant, “As, if not Ryan Reynolds, George Clooney, or Brad Pitt.” Did former winner Mel Gibson’s anti-semitic, and misogynistic rants not open up a space for yours truly?”
    Oh well.
    That night, I found sleep hard to come by. What is sexy?
    Chiseled good looks? A good sense of humor? A big honkin’ wing wang?
    No, my looks aren’t as chiseled as Van Wilder. But many women find me to be sexy all the same... Somewhere between my matted hair and the rogue way I sprinkle idle conversation with curse words, girls find an undeniable charm...a sexiness, perhaps? I was once told I have the beard of a young Stonewall Jackson. The girl snickered then, and I tried my best to gnarl my lip like Mick Jagger, because women find Mick Jagger sexy, or at least did, until he started to resemble an arthritic crypt keeper. Then tobacco juice rolled down my chin.
    Oh well.
    As for a good sense of humor, well, allow me to offer this:
   

    There was a young girl from Devizes

Who had tits of different sizes

One was small

Almost nothing at all

And the other was big, and won prizes.

As well as:

There once was a man from Nantucket

Whose dick was so big he could suck it

He said with a grin

As he wiped off his chin

If my ear was a pussy I’d fuck it

    It seems to me, your gaffe is becoming ever clearer. But to really drive the point home, consider this little ditty about an Indian man and his testicles:

There once was a man from Madras

Whose balls were made of fine brass

In stormy weather, his balls clanged together

And lightning shot out of his ass.

    Haha!
    So if a sense of humor truly is sexy, well... It’s obvious I’ve got that in spades. Speaking of which, I just thought of another funny joke. I won’t tell it here, so as to avoid what my friend Terrell calls a “down-home ass whoopin’” but maybe another time.
    Do I really belong among the hunkiest of the hunky?
    Well, I don’t know about that. Determining levels of sexiness is your business, not mine. All I do know, I guess, is that I have the looks of a young Stonewall Jackson, the sense of humor (and manner of speaking) of Andrew Dice Clay, and what’s been described as an “okay-sized” honkin’ wing wang.
    It’s your move, People Magazine.
    I leave you with this:

There was a young gigolo named Bruno

Who said, "Screwing's one thing I do know.”

While women are fine,

And sheep are divine,

Llamas are numero uno!"

    Llamas! Haha!


Sexily,

Scott