From a collection of letters mostly from, but also to, Hunter S. Thompson (("Proud Highway: Saga of a Desperate Southern Gentleman, 1955-1967".)), here's a job application that wasn't even answered by the paper he sent it to. He sent a lot of these, apparent jests but still, I wish there were more people like HST around today (not wishing for the madness and substance abuse):

Some people find it exceedingly difficult to get along with me and I have to choose my jobs very carefully. I have no patience with phonies, hacks, dolts, or obnoxious incompetents and I take some pride in the fact that these people invariably dislike me. I admire perfection or any effort toward it and I would not work for anyone who disagreed with me on this score. This is not to say that I refuse to work with people whom I consider incompetent. It merely means that I consider incompetence something to be overcome, rather than accepted. It seems a little senseless to carry on in this vein. I think I’ve given you a pretty good picture of myself and, at the same time, I realize only one out of a thousand people would hire me after reading this letter. Right now I’m in no mood to give a damn. Maybe later I’ll become more temperate.

So, until I hear from you, Hunter S. Thompson