BREAKING
Purdence, do you have a sec?
As you know, the latest FEC fundraising deadline is upon us, when the corporate media judge how our campaign is doing. So I want to share some important news with you right after this colon:
We’re falling behind where we need to be.
That doesn’t mean you shouldn’t be very proud for having almost helped to keep that from happening.
But you can be prouder still—because it’s people like you, Purdence, who have built these grassroots from the beginning, brick by brick. And that’s why I’m asking you to think about how your name is looking these days on our digital Wall of Fame in light of your previous “donation.”
Let me explain. After the last debate, I stuck around after the sets were struck and the eyelash extensions came off.
You spoke, and I listened.
One of you characters pointed out the irony of my saying we need to get money out of politics while “constantly hitting on the very people who can’t afford to buy their politicians.”
Ouch.
Then a freckle-faced kid asked what was the value of taxing the rich “if both the mandatory and discretionary budgets continue to go disproportionately to a military that engages in perpetual war just to protect the corporations?”
I hear you.
Obviously, Purdence, we need to do a better job of telling our story.
And I’ll be honest: I’m getting pretty tired of telling it. Okay, let’s go over this one more time:
This isn’t about me, Purdence. It’s about our children and their children, their children’s children, their children’s childr—
It’s about six-packs, not Super PACs.
And that’s not just a promise. It’s more like a slogan.
Which is why, in just a few hours, I’ll be driving my old light-duty truck to an American public venue somewhere—it could be a diner in Dubuque, it could be an uneven playing field in Fresno. And earnest, hard-working people will approach me and ask why, apart from our neat “We Are All Mongrels” merch, they should have to skip meals just to keep me in play.
And I’ll tell them in all candor: access.
No, not the kind the one percent expect for their campaign contributions—the fancy fossil-fuel balls and the swanky deforestation retreats my opponents are hosting. I’m talking about access to jobs and education. Comprehensive macular generation for seniors. Sustainable fertilizer runoff. Campaign-contribution debt forgiveness.
And let’s not forget what we’re running against. Does anyone else care that the Chucklehead-in-Chief has turned to TaskRabbit to conduct foreign policy? For crying out loud!
So I’ll be frank, Purdence: Do you want to host a donation party?
I didn’t think so. And that’s why we’ve decided to launch our new calculator to make it easier for you to see how much a small home equity loan would enable you to chip in beyond that last funny gesture you made.
Unless another free decal would make a difference?
Friends, what we are proving together in this campaign is that running for president doesn’t need to involve sucking up to deep pockets and taking under-the-table selfies with fat-cat donors.
It can involve nothing more than simple email bludgeoning of people holding down two/three jobs, folks on fixed incomes—people like yourself, Purdence, whose average contribution is actually below some of the most frugal donations we’ve received—and yet we’re just so grateful for your generosity.
Would a survey help? Sometimes people like those. Please indicate which three issues you’d most like to see me discuss:
☐ Bulk billionaire rendition
☐ Normcore neofeudalism
☐ Biodegradable ballots
☐ Spaghetti decarbonara
But let me be clear: to make change, we need to get some big bills first. Hahahahaha!
Sorry, I’m just so tired right now, I feel like my own bobblehead doll.
See what you can do, Purdence.
Thank you.
