Sworn to secrecy!

One of the vicissitudes of blogging is that someone always says it better than you, and faster too. I guess that is why we have the cut and paste function.

Over the weekend at JOM we were laughing about the report out of the White House that President Obama sometimes sends money to people who write him letters. The President does not, of course want to advertise his amazing generosity, we are told, so keep it to yourself.

Over at PJ Tatler, Clarice nails it, as always, with the help of JOMer BGates, who really should be hired by Jon Stewart to give his show a hint of reality.

Every night before he goes to sleep, the president of the United States reads 10 letters from the pile of 20,000 sent to him by Americans every day. Sometimes, he writes back. He’s even, on occasion, included a check.

“It’s not something I should advertise, but it has happened,” President Barack Obama told reporter Eli Saslow,

bgates, that cynic isn’t buying it:

A check. Not cash. Something with a signature. And then the people who were so desperate for help that they wrote the White House to beg for money, whose financial problems were solved through the personal intervention of the President of the United States – they quietly cashed the checks and went on with their business. Or, maybe they tried to get the story on the local news but the hard-hearted reporter types didn’t see an angle. “What, President saves family farm from bankruptcy? There’s no story there!” Until finally, after years and who knows how many instances of this selflessness, we finally hear about it from none other than Captain Reticent himself.

This is quite possibly the stupidest lie I have ever heard from an adult person.

At Clarice’s suggestion, I plan to offer a prize on my radio show to anyone who can produce a copy of said check. (Has anyone researched to see if the Obama’s actually have a checking account not labeled “US Treasury”?

1 comment

  1. I have no idea if it was a lie or not, but it was certainly douchey. I mean, that is a level of casual dochebaggery that I would expect from a frat boy or a skinny-jeans wearing hipster.

    Sad.

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