Attention: Assorted Ax Grinders

I have officially crossed the line. I no longer care about the issues at hand, what your platform is or isn’t, who slept with what when or anything else of that nature.

You’re all, every single one of you, a bunch of big fat liars. Now that I’ve actually read through the text of the various bills and whatnot (which was all the fun of sifting through annual statements for a bunch of spaghetti-coded shyster ‘investment’ firms, only without the potential for finding a good investment), I find the lies and lies by omission to be so across the board that I’ve decided on a much simpler course of action. This will be just as logical as actually listening to your rhetoric, yet takes much less effort on my part.

Every single time my phone rings and, extricating myself from my children, rocking chair, nap, or what-have-you, I answer it only to hear a passionate recorded message urging me to vote to this candidate or that proposition…I’m putting a tick mark in the opposite corner.

Got it?

Call me, earn a vote for your opponent. I think this should be simple enough even for a politician to understand.

I may extend this to flyers as well. Dog-damn, people: It seems pretty ironic that in order to tell me how you want to save the environment by voting for or against this or that, you’ve sent me a rainforest worth of heavily inked paper.

And so help me!!!!!! <== (note the many ‘!’ – that means that I am really pissed and your answer at this point is a simple nod and many a murmur of yes ma’am, no ma’am, never again ma’am)

If you have taken me away from my morning coffee, or made me put down my knitting right in the middle of a particularly complicated pattern row, or {pause to snarl and froth at the mouth} I’m standing there with a butt-nekkid child I snatched off the changing table before he was fully wiped because it was 5:30 in the morning and I thought it might be important?!

Two anti-votes, plus a public flogging on my blog. Two lashes for every time I sniff my shirt trying to determine where ‘that’ smell is coming from.

Which reminds me.

To the adorable imbeciles of the ‘anybody but Pombo’ campaign: it would help if your telephone staff knew the name of the guy running against him. So that if said staff person asks, “Can we count on your vote against Pombo?” and the person being called, who is trying to hold onto a writhing, giggling two year old with a rather damp Nether Region responds with, “Well, that would depend on who is running against him…” they don’t say, “Duuuuuuuuuuuuh…um…gee…I…I think it’s…uh…you know, I really don’t…ummmmmmmmm….er……..” {offstage whispers as she consults with equally clue-impaired coworker} “I think it’s McLeary.”

**sigh**

The guy’s name is McNerney. Jerry McNerney.

I’ll give you a second to write that down.

Gives me time to add another few check marks in the anti-anti-Pombo column to cover the Annoyance Surcharge…