Hello, from your local Democratic representative.
I’m texting you because the situation is dire. The Republicans have got us cornered. And with just 16 minutes until my critical End-Of-The-Hour deadline, I only need $2 to hit my can’t-miss fundraising goal. If, however, I do miss my can’t-miss goal, the Republicans will gain the upper hand, my campaign office will shut down, and most devastating to me personally, I’ll be forced to dive head first in front of this rickshaw.
And that would be bad.
How bad? Hard to say, really. I mean, catastrophic? Probably not. It is, after all, only a rickshaw. It’s not a car, or a bus, or a cruise ship full of coronavirus. There are certainly worse things to dive head first in front of. But it would definitely be painful. Heavy bruising, for sure. Maybe even a broken rib. It depends on how many people were riding in the rickshaw. And at this point in my campaign, I can’t afford another setback.
Your generous gift of $2 or more could put me over the top. Until, of course, next hour, when I’ll need to raise another $2 and face the risk of diving head first in front of a rickshaw again. It’s a vicious cycle — a vicious, rickshaw-fueled cycle, which you can end right now. Momentarily, at least. With $2.
Please, for the love of God, give me $2. I’ve spent the last six years of my life on the verge of diving head first in front of a rickshaw. Do you know what it’s like to live like that, always worrying about diving head first in front of a rickshaw? It’s a living hell. The unrelenting pressure has caused me to develop several ulcers. My marriage is in shambles. And I was just diagnosed with a rare, stress-induced prostate disorder. I can’t get through more than three emails before I’m scurrying to the restroom like a squirrel on the highway. A highway full of rickshaws.
The Republicans will do whatever it takes to defeat the Democrats. When we draw record turnouts, they rearrange the districts. When we bring minorities to the polls, they suppress early voting. And when we set aggressive fundraising goals, they force us to dive head first in front of a rickshaw. That’s why we need to stop the Republicans in their tracks. And for only $2 or more, you have the power to stop them. The Republicans. And the rickshaw. But more importantly, the rickshaw.
The future of the Democratic Party is at stake. Another thing at stake? My ability to walk. Or complete an Ironman. Or learn to swing dance. I still have so much life left to live! And if I have to dive head first in front of this rickshaw, my future stands in serious jeopardy. I want to father a child. I want to grow old and restore a vintage Winnebago and tour rural Alberta. And more relevant to this text message, I want to defeat the Republicans and give working-class Americans a voice in Washington. But none of this happens if I’m forced to dive head first in front of a rickshaw.
Thanks to loyal supporters like you, there’s so much I’ve already accomplished. I’ve increased the minimum wage. I’ve strengthened union support. And not once have I been forced to dive head first in front of a rickshaw. You think any of that came easy? There were many, many hours when I would’ve given anything to dive head first in front of that rickshaw. Sure, it’d be pretty terrible at first. But once the rickshaw had finished thrashing across my limp body, it wouldn’t be so bad. Sometimes I’d fanaticize about lounging in a hospital bed, post-rickshaw. No imminent deadlines. No conniving Republicans. No rickshaws. Just me, my ice chips, and whatever equipment was required to keep my vital organs alive. When you put it in those terms, it doesn’t sound too awful, does it?
But did I ever succumb to those fantasies? Did I ever turn my back on my constituents? Or the rickshaw?
No.
No, I did not.
And that’s why now, more than ever, I deserve your $2. Preferably, in the next 16 minutes. Or, as you might’ve guessed, I’ll be forced to dive head first in front of this rickshaw.
Text STOP-DA-RICKSHAW to 8118 to donate $2 now. Message and data rates may apply.