The Portland Mercury is looking for a new music editor. I really want the job but there's just one little problem.

I ain't hip enough.

I don't stand a chance. If I wanted a shot at the job, I would need a musical montage involving both "Eye of the Tiger" and Le Tigre and the indie-rock equivalent of Burgess Meredith's character in Rocky.

First picture an elderly, angry guy with a Popeye squint and boxing gloves. Then add tattoos, safety-pin eyebrow piercing, vintage clothing, a cigarette and a perpetual sneer of pure, uncut condescension.

The montage would involve me listening to a huge stack of CDs by bands like Menomena, IMA Robot, Cool Nutz and Helio Sequence while punching a frozen slab of meat. In another shot, while doing jumping push-ups, Meredith would scream "YOU AIN'T NUTHIN' BUT A BUM" at the back of my head while I listen to everything Elliot Smith ever said into a microphone (including voice mail messages). Next I would forgo food of any kind to drop down to an appropriate 110 pounds before raiding the racks at Magpie for ironic '80s concert t-shirts.

Covered in Japanese kanji tats, I would stagger up the steps of Pioneer Courthouse square and victoriously raise my arms to the sky. Burgess would cast his bitter skepticism aside and give me a silent nod of approval. Later, after a brutal, 12-round interview, blood soaked and weary, I would get the gig.

If only life were more like inspirational Sylvester Stallone movies.