Following a brief review of his sexual history this afternoon, area man Steve Jessop concluded – not for the first time in the past few weeks – that not being talented, wealthy, or in any way remarkable, was probably the single best thing he’d ever done.
“I saw that photo of Al Franken groping that reporter, and I just thought: there are literally dozens of pictures of me doing so much worse. And then that got me thinking that really the only thing saving me from a scandal at this stage is getting injured when I was twelve and not making the rep hockey team, ending my chances of playing in NHL.”
Mr. Jessop also credits a general lack of direction and focus that prevented him from excelling in any other particular area of his life, saving him from easy traceability and-or being of any particular interest to the media.
“Thank God,” the divorced father of two says, staring absently into the middle distance, clearly replaying scenes from his past that would have long ago landed him on the cover of the NY Times, had he made the fatal error of amounting to anything of note.
As every day brings new accusations of sexual impropriety, assault, and harassment against a widening grab bag of well-known men from all walks of life, Steve isn’t alone in counting generic mediocrity as his new best life skill.
“I totally feel that,” agreed some other guy in a parking lot somewhere buying groceries in his jogging pants. “And on top of being a sub-par achiever, I’m also really glad I was able to get being an unredeemable asshole out of the way before the smartphone era. I don’t know how guys these days are going to do it. Before you know it dudes are going to have to learn to actually behave themselves. And not just the famous ones.”