The PJ Tatler

Lonely Obama begging for dinner guests again

If you’re on Obama’s email list, as I am, you get the feeling he’s a lonely man, just looking for a date — provided that you’re willing to pay him for his time. Sounds a little bit like the world’s oldest profession, doesn’t it?

I also love the way Barack (or, could it conceivably be a ghost writer? Perhaps Bill Ayers?) brings pure bathos to the lives of perfectly ordinary Americans. From the fevered writing, you’d think his four dinner guests slogged their way through the sands of Omaha Beach, put up the flag on Iwo Jima, cleared Fallujah, served as slaves on one of the great plantations, just missed being one of Montezuma’s sacrifices, and had a great escape from a concentration camp. Cut out the drama, and you get four ordinary people. One put her kids through college and saves for retirement; another had a sick relative; a third is a small businessman; and the fourth is, quelle surprise!, a teacher who campaigns for Democrats.

Anyway, here’s Obama’s plea:

Friend —

A few Thursdays ago, I had dinner with four Americans named Ken, Casey, Juanita, and Wendi — the winners of the campaign’s first Dinner with Barack contest.

I loved getting to know each of them.

We’re taking names for the next dinner starting now, and this time I want to add a new feature: If you win, you can bring a guest.

Chip in $3 or more today to be automatically entered to win a spot for you and a guest at the next dinner.

The folks who this election is all about tend to fall under the radar of the D.C. pundits and traditional news media.

They’re people like Juanita, who helped put her three sons through college on a teacher’s salary while saving what she could for retirement.

Like Ken, a single dad who stood by his mother as she fought insurance companies while battling two forms of cancer.

They’re like Casey, whose three young kids may not yet appreciate what courage it took for their dad to take a chance and start his own business.

And Wendi, an artist and third-generation teacher who canvassed, marched, and phone banked in Indiana in 2008, the year her home state defied the traditional electoral map.

These people weren’t just there for themselves — they were representing you, this movement, and the folks I go to work for every day as president.

These dinners are important to me because I want to spend time whenever I can with the people who sent me here. They’re proving wrong the conventional wisdom that says campaigns should cater to Washington lobbyists and powerful interests. And they’re an important reminder that this movement — and my presidency — have never just been about me.

I’m proud that we’re choosing to run the kind of campaign where a dinner like this isn’t just possible, it’s a regular thing. And next time, I don’t just want to meet you — I want to meet someone else in your life.

Donate $3 or more, and start thinking about who you’ll invite to dinner:

Thanks for being part of this,


Cross-posted at Bookworm Room