To Whom It May Concern,
I would hereby like to apply for the job listed. As you’ll see from my attached résumé, my skills are more than adequate for the role, my references speak for themselves and my portfolio of work is, you’ll be forced to admit, impressive.
But I have one more selling-point, one more arrow in my quiver: my crotch.
The verdant jungles of my crotch.
The jungles of my crotch are large, humid, tropical. Panthers walk its sun-dappled paths. Ancient tribes live peaceful, happy lives across my groin. In deep, placid pools scaly fish toothily circle. Monkeys hoot and gibber from my pockets.
Explorers have attempted to map its boundaries, to source its rivers, to name its ancient, mysterious ruins, and all to no avail. The verdant jungles of my crotch are too large, too dense, too shifting to be traversed and what little is known is rarely mapped. Cartographers simply go mad, wildly inking eldritch symbols where plateaus, basins, forests should be.
And all this - all these natural, groinal treasures - these can be in your employ. The verdant jungles of my crotch are for sale.
Can you really afford to not employ my magnificent crotch?