Well, don't hold your breath, close your eyes and wait 5,000 years. You will then be nothing but rotten bones and your car long ago reduced to a 2 x 4 piece of rusty plastic. PUBLISHERS CLEARING HOUSE will have discarded your application into the garbage and declared bankrupcy. The CEO and other corporate officers laughed themselves silly before committing suicide while toasting the late Reverand Jones of Guyana and a former disgraced candidate for President of the United States, Sir Donald Trump.
Yes, folks, in a moment of depressed fury, the Queen of England had knighted that pompous bugger with her sword. She intended to stab him for fondling her breasts, but she missed. No charges were ever filed and Trump was buried in Potter's Field somewhere on Roosevelt Island after he lost his entire fortune in a civil suit filed by one of his eight ex-wives, Marla Maples.
Publishers Clearing House does exactly as its name says: they clear out customers' hard earned money for the crap they sell. And they use P.T. Barnum as their mentor with constant reminders near sales pitches on their mailings: WINNERS GUARANTEED! What does that mean? Absolutely nothing. Not even an EXIT WARNING. At lease Barnum did that with his museum's EGRESS sign that was a door to the sidewalk.
So don't spend any of that PCH two million dollars lottery. It won't help if you buy something. And it won't help if you don't buy anything. Just don't waste your time opening their deceptive envelopes filled with garbage gifts. Throw their shit right into the round file.
Thanks to Al Gore's invention, The Internet, there are many thousands of other scammers who purchase mailing lists, especially seniors, and regularly pitch them on line, via snail mail and through telemarketers. We are not really safe from these birds of prey. Just tear and toss, delete or hang up. Don't be a victim!
Personally, I enjoy playing with these pitchers. When Arthur Murray's Dance Studio called me to say I had just won three free dance lessons, I claimed to have only one leg. When the caller apologized profusely, I asked about pole dancing instead. He cursed me out and hung up abruptly.
Ditto for the NRA pitchman who offered me a five year subscription to the National Rifle Association's monthly magazine, "Kill Thy Neighbor," for only$250, marked down from $350 just for seniors. I said we already had a bow and sheath of poisoned arrows to repel home invaders, then hung up on him.
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