I’d seen it in my inbox, bold and unread. The subject line, “Some Advice about George Clooney,” caught my eye like those inexplicable internet ads about about a teeth whitening formula that features a man who looks like he’s standing in a wind tunnel or a woman who can lock her ankles behind her head. I didn’t want to look but the combination of those words, “Advice” and “George Clooney” got me. Why on earth would I need advice about George Clooney?
Look, it’s a forgone conclusion I’ll be voting for Obama, even as I have my issues with certain policies of his, and I’ll probably kick in a few bucks to get a little plastic sign or a bumper sticker closer to the election. But the allure of dropping $25 to enter my name in a drawing for the opportunity to join Obama at Clooney’s house for dinner? I’m just not feeling it. I don’t want to go.
Oh, shit. I just got another email. And this one is from the president himself:
I think it’s safe to assume that an evening at George Clooney’s house is something you’re not going to want to miss.
He’s getting involved because, like you and me, he cares deeply about the work we still have left to do — so you’re sure to have a thing or two to talk about.
I’ll be there, too.
Any donation you make today will automatically enter you to win and join us on May 10th:
See you there?
Now “Any donation” gets me in the dinner-with-Barack-and-George derby! But I don’t want to eat dinner with you guys!
Oh, shit. I just looked at my Facebook news feed: