In some states, just initials please-okay, California- we're talking BEYOND millions or tens of millions of dollars spent to hold a state office. Not that we here in The Nutmeg State are too far behind those sums (actually we are, C'mon Linda, Go Tommy, you can do better!). And it's not that both of those names are Republicans, because, hand on their (greedy and black) hearts, if their opponents had the same financial resources, they'd spend it, too. Listen to the money talk (tailored suits, show of your cars, fine hotels and big cigars) if you can hear it at all over the invective and innuendo and when all else fails, lurid lies hurled at the guy or gal on the other side of the aisle.
I actually thought my mail was broken yesterday. I didn't have a single piece of literature from anyone seeking office anywhere in my state-you should be so lucky, right? But you know what, it's not the crap as content TV commercials with that "...and I approved this message" kiss-off (I certainly didn't approve them, you a$$holes!) or the really slime ball ones created by the national party folks who don't care if truth is the first casualty. Truth to tell, I have a remote and when the campaign slime and sleaze oozes out of the big box in the living room I hunt down another channel (somewhere Ferris Bueller is always on), so while I wax apoplectic at the insanity of the humanity, ain't nothing but a thang.
What really gets me grinding is the perversion of Alex's Bell #1 invention, the phone. The robo-call assault even in a sleepy little place like Connecticut is stunning and stultifying. And it calls in all shapes and sizes-if you've got the money, honey, somebody can be bought to do the dialing and thanks to technology, more often than not, I'm getting pre-recorded calls, personalized with my name as the candidate launches into the canned spam spiel. Who thinks this $hit works, the same cretins and croutons who respond to Nigerian email?
Three days ago I grabbed one of those calls (ringing phones make me crazy (ier)) and said nothing....not a word, didn't even breathe. About six seconds of silence ensued and then the 'volunteer' offered simply, 'Hello?' but still I said nothing. Another pregnant pause and another, this time more worried sounding 'Hellooo?' followed by a third query. My evil twin, Skippy, almost (but not quite) asked the only thing either of us was interested in knowing and I'd already practiced my dark, brown voice to ask 'what are you wearing?' Talk about a bustle in your hedgerow-we'd be on an express elevator to heaven for sure with any kind of an answer to that one...