I have a confession to make. I have entered the Publisher’s Clearing House giveaway. It’s a tortuous process designed to eliminate anyone whose patience is already frayed from being on hold for hours waiting for a human voice, being stuck in traffic at rush hour due to “planning” by the government, and being over 50 and trying to demystify social media and electronic devices.
Given the already depleted fund of patience, the sheaves of paper in the Publishers Clearing House ordeal, featuring many treasures (punctuated by assurances that buying one of them isn’t a requirement to win) has left me breathless. But I feel victorious now being in the 1% still qualified for the BIG PRIZE. I don’t understand if the BIG PRIZE is $5,000 a week for life, or there is a BIGGER PRIZE of $7,000 a week for life and $2,000,000 up front. I couldn’t sustain myself long enough to figure that out. I got some relief throwing all the ads into the recycling bin.
Why did I enter? I keep seeing the pathetic ads for abused animals and starving children. Rather than breaking a finger trying to change the channel, I figure having wealth may actually allow me to make a difference. As it is, I contribute modestly to local shelters, but shivering animals and bloated, hollow-eyed children continue to haunt me.
Cynical me, I wonder if the TV ads awarding the prize at the front door of nameless individuals are staged. The check itself is 6 feet long and 3 feet wide, everyone is jumping up and down, and we’re supposed to picture our own front doors and the huge check (figuratively and literally) being ours. I still picture all the suffering that would be alleviated if the funds got to those who invisibly struggle forgotten.
I also wonder if they’re telling the truth and not buying a “Most Wanted Cookbook,” (I make soft boiled eggs), a jade elephant, or a praying hands illuminated table accent disqualifies me. Of course I could have opted for The Official Scrabble Players Dictionary, could have “expanded my closet instantly” with metal door hangers, or treated myself to a novelty train wall clock with flashing lights and train sounds. I couldn’t pull the trigger.
But I’m in it to win it. I’m hoping I can fit the 6 foot check into the tray at the drive through bank. Bottom line, may all those who suffer tonight know that we are thinking of them and hoping that prayers are enough sustenance for one more day.
Stay warm and safe,