I Want to Be a Bride and Wear the Fancy Dress and Flirt with the Groomsmen

A very lovely, reputable, delightful literary journal has rejected me for the 4th or 5th time in a strongly encouraging way. But that makes it all the more painful. I don't get it--lots of wonderful comments on work from my memoir from here to there, but no bites. This is seriously like fishing. Every time you send new work to a journal (fishing spot) you know has some good action (they seem to like your work to some decent degree and you know where the bottom is, the sunken tree, the weeds), it's like trying to guess what style / theme (lure color, action, style) might work that day. Fortunately, in both instances, there's always candy bars, chips, and beer to fall back on to pass the time. I wonder, could I go all Crocodile Dundee on this and TNT the water (literary journal) and get fish (acceptance letter) to float to the surface? Would I go to prison?