I hope the president won't be too disappointed when he finds out that I'm not going to meet him in San Francisco. If he's coming to New York anytime soon and wants to, you know, maybe have lunch, he can have someone call ahead and I'll check my schedule. I'm not paying for his lunch, though.
by Ken
I'm not going to tell you who sent me this e-mail message, with the subject heading "We'll fly you to meet President Obama in San Francisco," because I don't want to embarrass the person or persons. (I'll give you a hint, though: It rhymes with "Duh Shmemocrats.") I feel obliged to point out, however, that that subject line is a fib. These Shmemocrats will not fly me to San Francisco, to meet President Obama or for any other reason.
I wouldn't mind it if they did, because I haven't been to San Francisco in ages. Or much of anyplace, really. But they won't. Fly me to San Francisco, I mean. I'm kind of surprised that they think they can get away with sending me an e-mail saying they will, but I suppose someone among these Shmemocrats must know a lawyer, a lawyer who said it was okay for them to claim that they will fly me to San Francisco. These people know a lot of lawyers. Heck, a lot of them are lawyers. I'm not criticizing, just saying.
Factually speaking, the most these Shmemocrats could claim would be: "We may fly you to San Francisco" (emphasis added). Not that they would be any more or less likely to fly me to San Francisco, but at least they wouldn't be saying they will. (Hey, do you suppose the president knows his Shmemocrats are making these reckless promises?)
Just to be clear: I wouldn't be a whole lot happier if the Shmemocrats had said, "We may fly you to San Francisco." I'm sick and tired of being told about all these wonderful things that might happen to me, all the wonderful things I might win. We all know that none of these things are going to happen.
They could just as easily say, "A meteor may hit the earth tomorrow and destroy North America." I can't prove that it's not so, but it seems to me every bit as likely as the Shmemocrats flying me to San Francisco to meet the president. (I hope the president wouldn't be upset, but while I was there I would probably check to see if maybe the orchestra was playing a concert, or if there was anything else interesting-looking happening. I once -- many, many years ago -- saw a really enjoyable production of Gilbert and Sullivan's Ruddigore by the Lamplighters in San Francisco. I don't know if they're still there, the Lamplighters, but if somebody's flying me to town, I would absolutely check.)
Of course neither the Shmemocrats nor anyone else is likely to use the meteor-strike line as a come-on, because what they're all leading up to is a pitch to get me to "chip in," and I'm not going to chip in even if it gets me a chance to be flown to San Francisco. I'm a grown-up, and I know that if I want to fly to San Francisco, I'm going to have to rummage around online to see what I can score in the way of a cheap fare. Not to mention -- oh God! -- the cost of some form of lodging.
The fact is, maybe it's because I'm so old and wasn't born yesterday, but I'm immune to pretty much any form of pitch that begins with any variant of "You have a chance to win [fill in the blank]." No, I don't.
I don't really expect that meteor to strike tomorrow, but I don't have much control over that. What I have control over is paying any attention to "You have a chance to win" pitches. And my timing is bad, or maybe good, because apparently the pitching world has concluded that now is the time to sucker everyone and his/her brothers and sisters into believing that they have a chance to win.
Have people really become that stupid?
Back in the Great Depression, when people were susceptible to all kinds of prize-giving contests, at least their intelligence was respected to the point where they had to do something that might then actually give them a chance to win -- like write a jingle. We've all seen Preston Sturges's Christmas in July, haven't we? (What, you haven't? Seen the greatest movie ever made?)
Ellen Drew and Dick Powell on their Brooklyn rooftop in Christmas in July -- what, you haven't seen the greatest movie ever made?
AND WHILE WE'RE ON THE SUBJECT (SORT
OF), I DON'T SIGN ONLINE PETITIONS EITHER
I don't see the point, other than helping the petition organizers' list-building efforts. I'm already on too many e-mail lists, and I don't want to be on any more except for those I actively choose to sign up for on account of I want to hear from those parties.
And I'm especially peeved by those new variants where the list-builders point out that I haven't yet signed their petition -- that, oh the horror!, my name isn't on it yet! Well, of course it isn't, because I don't "sign" online petitions, so how could my name be on it?
But this just makes me feel bad, because somebody (at whichever fine organization is busting my chops about their petition) has stayed up late checking over all the "signatures" they've gathered so far to see whether my name is on it. (That person almost certainly doesn't know that my name can't be on it because, you know, I don't sign those things.) When that person could instead be playing Tetris or watching The Simpsons and have something to show for his/her time.
Get it? I don't have a chance to win, and I'm not signing.
POSTSCRIPT: I HOPE NOBODY CONFUSES THESE
ANNOYING PITCHES WITH DWT ASKS AND CONTESTS
This possibility occurred to me after I put this post up. We do, after all, do a fair amount of fund-raising, for candidates Howie and Digby and John have vetted as carefully as they can, but those pitches are absolutely straightforward. Howie tells you in detail why he believes those candidates are worth supporting, and hopes you'll agree that the cause is worthwhile.
We also do frequent contests to encourage fund-raising, but again, the "ask" is absolutely straightforward. Howie scrounges up some pretty amazing stuff to give away (including a lot of one-of-a-kind stuff from his own personal possessions), and sets out the conditions carefully, and he gives that amazing stuff away according to the rules he sets out -- he's pretty fanatical about that.
And every cent of the money that Howie and Blue America raise goes to the designated candidate or cause -- Howie and Digby and John are pretty fanatical about that too.
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