… an e-mail—from Joe Biden!
Subject line: Dinner
David —
The President and I have a routine — we get lunch together almost every Friday.
But all I get is lunch. You could be one of four supporters to have dinner with him soon.
Donate $5 or more today to have your name automatically thrown in the hat here:
https://donate.barackobama.com/Dinner-with-Barack
I'm reminded every week that sitting down for a meal with the President of the United States — without TV cameras or a big crowd — is something only a few people will ever get to do.
You're not going to want to miss this chance.
I wish you luck,
Joe
Readers, it's not often that I deMurr, but I honestly don't know how to analyze a promotion like this.
I'm a known Obama fan—not long ago I actually had a dream about meeting him (and he was totally awesome!). If I got this from Dick Cheney, I would ridicule it out of hand. But that's partly because Cheney's persona couldn't carry off even the faux humility that's implied here.
I try to imagine such a promotion in a corporate setting. What if the COO sent out a note like this, offering employees a chance for a private audience with the CEO, if only they'll fill out the employee survey? Not cool! And I like it less as a way to make me feel like I'd have to win the lottery in order to shake the hand of my elected representative.
All right, let's look at it through the eyes of a marketer whose simple job is to get money. I've written some cornball marketing letters over the years. "You've stopped subscribing to Speechwriter's Newsletter. That hurts our feelings." That sort of thing. As I've said, I believe that prospects actually appreciate "a hint of the hustle" in their marketing promotions.
So that's not why I'm not why I'm not going to participate in this dinner-with-Obama thing. Frankly, I don't want to share Barack with three other nervous yahoos, all stepping on their tongues and watching how much they drink. I know how Barack and I are: We'll spend the whole time trying to make everyone feel comfortable, and we'll have no meaningful time for one another.
(I'm content to wait until after Obama's second term, when he and I bump into each other at Jackson Park Golf Course back here in Chicago, and play the last nine holes together, talking only about golf and the Hyde Park and Kenwood neighorhoods. I'll call him "Barack," but otherwise make no reference to his presidency, unless he brings it up, perhaps asking me how I think he will be remembered by history. And so on.)
Where was I?
I put my $5 in. Is there anything specific you want me to ask him about? I’ve got a pretty big agenda of my own to take care of, but I’ll try to fit in one question from you if you want.
Steve C.
I put my $5 in. Is there anything specific you want me to ask him about? I’ve got a pretty big agenda of my own to take care of, but I’ll try to fit in one question from you if you want.
Steve C.
I put my $5 in. Is there anything specific you want me to ask him about? I’ve got a pretty big agenda of my own to take care of, but I’ll try to fit in one question from you if you want.
Steve C.
Oh no. Oh boy. Oh wow.
If you’re going to be there, I HAVE to be there, just to help get the president through dinner.
You know what, I KNEW something like this would happen.
Okay, I’m signing up now.
If you the two of you do this dinner, I want video.
If the two of us do the dinner, the video will be on CNN . . . and, eventually, Court TV.
Steve C.
If the two of us do the dinner, the video will be on CNN . . . and, eventually, Court TV.
Steve C.
If the two of us do the dinner, the video will be on CNN . . . and, eventually, Court TV.
Steve C.
Come to think of it, Steve. Does Barack really have to be there?
Can’t we just have a televised dinner where we argue bitterly about politics? So bitterly that, eventually, I try to throw a beer bottle at your head, and it doesn’t end until somebody pulls their own shirt off?
I mean, the Secret Service wouldn’t put up with any of that. Why don’t we just do this thing. Somebody call CNN. Somebody call 911.
We’ve already done that several times. We just forgot to capture it on video.
Had you been as handy with your little flippy cam as you are these days, we’d probably be a YouTube sensation by now.
Steve C.
We’ve already done that several times. We just forgot to capture it on video.
Had you been as handy with your little flippy cam as you are these days, we’d probably be a YouTube sensation by now.
Steve C.
We’ve already done that several times. We just forgot to capture it on video.
Had you been as handy with your little flippy cam as you are these days, we’d probably be a YouTube sensation by now.
Steve C.
Is it too late to get in on this conversation? (My power was out due to the storm — Obama’s fault, of course — and even Joe Biden was delayed getting out of town. I assume he had dinner with Rahm Emanuel). I think you guys should have lunch with John Boehner — and call him Wiener throughout.
Damn! I love my new job, but they have this weird “time limit” thing on any site identified as a blog” so I can’t read Writing Boots during the day anymore [not that I have time for frivolity anyway until after work now]. I can’t believe I missed this. DAMN, I say again.
PLEASE do this meeting. Do it SOON. Do it on video!! It’s not to late for the two of you to be internet sensations. Come on! Do it for posterity! Do it for those who care about politics! Do it for all the people who enjoy laughing like hyenas when the two of you get going . . . Oh, maybe that last one’s just me. Still, there’s the internet sensation thing, and that’s no small potatoes!!
“Flippy cam.” God I love you, Steve. Okay, in this serious retrospect, did you buy the ticket, Davey? OMG, I wish I’d been there for the aftermath of THIS conversation. Let me guess, it took place at Jorge’s, or Julio’s, or whatever is the name of that place with the margaritas that kill you for the Cubs game after, yes? And Steve won, right?