Here’s the deal — I try not to be too political on this blog. Not that I’m NOT political, because I’m very invested in the politics of this great nation, but I don’t use my blog to discuss my views.
But this is more than I can keep to myself!!
The Obama campaign wants me (well maybe not me since I swing for the opposing team) to tell my friends to send any birthday, anniversary, or anything money to the Obama campaign.
When I first saw this I thought this has to be a joke, but oh my, it’s not. It’s real — check it out yourself. Event Registry
And the sentiment is just well, it’s just…. okay, you decide:
“It’s a great way to support the President on your big day. Plus, it’s a gift that we can all appreciate—and goes a lot further than a gravy bowl.”
There is so much in these two sentences I don’t even know where to begin. First — I really have NEVER EVER thought of giving money to ANY campaign in lieu of my birthday — call me selfish. It’s just the way I am. However, maybe I WOULD donate to some of the poor in our country.
It’s a gift we can all appreciate? Really. Who? Considering this nation is a go-zillon dollars in debt, it’s evident appreciating money is not a strong suit for our people in DC.
And gravy BOWL? Did we mean gravy boat? But maybe gravy boat is just a Southern thing, I can’t fault a person not being in the South. But let’s focus on the fact that a gravy boat or bowl is something you can bring out every Thanksgiving. You’ll put it on the table as a newlywed and years later you may be pouring gravy on a grandchild’s turkey and dressing. It’s an heirloom. Something to remember the giver.
But it would be unfair if I didn’t mention you can customize your donation page — now, isn’t that snazzy! And gosh knows that customized donation page is something you can also set out on your Thanksgiving table. (or maybe not)
Is it just me or does our government just have a bargain basement feel to it? Seems like we once had decorum and propriety in our highest elected office and now, well it just feels different. I think my grandmother would have just called the whole bunch, tacky.
And that’s my final word on it — just plain tacky.