Me and Al Gore

First of all, when I typed the title just now, I wrote "Bore" instead of "Gore." Honest to God! No one would believe me, though, because it's too obvious a joke. Supposedly, one of Al's professors called him "the wooden Apollo." How many times has this poor guy been called "lackluster, dull, uninteresting, bland, (fill in your favorite synonym for 'boring' here), etc?" How many times? Zzzzzzzzzzzzzzz....drool.... zzzzzzzzzzzz...

Oh, excuse, me, Dear Reader, I seem to have nodded off while typing! Sorry. Uh... what was I typing about?

Oh yes. The entity known as Al Gore. Some folks find him boring, but I think that's irrelevant in his case, because he's smart, brave, and has done so many positive things with his life. He speaks the truth and drives Republicans crazy, which in my book, trumps "exciting" any day.

So why am I typing about Al Gore at all? Because I'm PISSED AT HIM, that's why! I'm also semi ticked at Nancy Pelosi, but Al is my whipping boy tonight, because he was the most hyped "prize" in the "dinner contest" which I LOST with a capital "L." To Al Gore, I am an unknown loser. I voted for him. I prayed for him. I gave him cash. I watched his little documentary. I read parts of his books (couldn't get into them--too boring).

Even as I type, Al Gore, Nancy Pelosi, and the "winner" of the contest, "Sarah from CA," are sitting down to a dinner in Menlo Park CA, sans Karen Kay Remus. Actually, it's 3 hours earlier there, so the guests are probably just walking through the body scanners at this point. You see, Dear Readers, DCCC.org ran a "contest" last Thursday, wherein if you contributed to the DCCC that day, you'd be entered to "win a chance to meet Al Gore and Nancy Pelosi" tonight.

All expenses would be paid for the lucky winner, including hotel and airfare. That means, if you were from the OTHER SIDE OF THE NATION, like me, they'd fly you out. I figured, "what have I got to lose (besides my contribution)?" So I entered.

I dug deep into my shallow pockets, and gave a generous (for me) contribution of $20.12. Get it? "DEMS 2012!" I figured that the sheer genius of the number should have made me "winner." But NO! I lost. My genius alone was not enough to win dinner with Al Gore. I had to be a rich genius. By the way, I still plan to change my last name to Genius-Billionaire; it's just too expensive right now. I'm pretty sure that it would have also helped to live in California, like the winner, who, depending on where she lived, might not have need airfare or hotel? Hmmm... Oh well, far worse things have been rigged.

Did anyone besides me give $20.12? I don't know, but I'd bet GOOD MONEY (as much as $5) that some rich Democrat(s) gave $2,012.00, and I have a sneaking suspicion they would have been closer to the winner's pool. Rich Democrats? That sounds like an oxymoron. In my 47 years on the planet, I've only met a handful of rich Democrats (using my definition of "rich;" not John McCain's), and I think it's sad that Democrats--the historically poorer of the two parties--are now being begged for money in an attempt to counter the unlimited political contributions allowed for corporations. How can we poor Dems compete?

But back to the dinner. Who came up with the idea initially? Who decided that meeting Al Gore = prize? Al himself? As in, "Pay me enough money, and you can WIN meeting ME!" And, "Pay a bit more, and you can win drinks with me afterwards." And, "Pay me just a little bit more, and..." Wait a minute. This is sounding less "Al Bore" and more "Al Whore." Hey, that's sort of weirdly exciting. Sort of.

But seriously, Dear Reader, Al is one of my heroes--right up there with William Shatner. Both Al and Bill are great in their own ways--and I'm sure they'd be the first ones to agree with that. Don't get me wrong. I truly respect the work Al has done on behalf of the planet and the Democratic Party, but he is really missing something. Me. I am the least boring person on the planet. I could give him lessons on how to be exciting. The last time I entered a contest to meet someone, I WON. It was in 1987. It was BILL SHATNER, and he didn't need lessons.