I’m flattered, really, that so many candidates want my support. A trip to the mailbox these days does wonders for my ego. I’m getting political junk mail from candidates all across the country. Yesterday, I got election mail from Texas, Minnesota, Kentucky and Nevada. Also from a Congressman here in Florida who is not mine. The downside is that I have no idea who my actual representatives are. I know I’ve got a senate seat down here that is on the ballot, but the literature is getting blown out of the water by Sharron Angle’s sticky notes, which are awesomely hand-written-looking:
to defeat Harry Reid.”
Harry Reid? I thought we were supposed to defeat some other guy?
It’s hard to say, but I’m pretty sure Sharron is aware that she is running in Nevada and that I live in Florida. My address is clearly right there; however, nowhere in her letter does it say anything about the Silver State or what her address is. The letter comes from her office in D.C. Still, Sharron looks like an on-the-ball gal and she must know where her outside-the-beltway house is.
And how about that Rand Paul? If I want to help him stop the erosion of our precious liberties and the looting of our national treasury by illegal immigrants, I need to help him get elected in . . . where? Oh, Kentucky.
Do you think they just want my money?
In a freak election mishap a couple of years ago, I got on the mailing lists of Republicans as a conservative zealot. For a while I tried to fight it – I sent them letters and called them, pleading with them to put a big red A for Antichrist next to my name – but I continue to get the junk mail.
I also continue to get the Democratic candidates’ stuff, too. So election time is super fun for my mailman. This is the first time, though, that I’ve been courted by so many people in other parts of the country.
When we get around to election reform, I think we should make it illegal to raise money outside the geographic borders of the office. Who am I to help Nancy Pelosi get re-elected? I don’t live in her district, I should have no say whatsoever in who is elected by those people. In return, all the people up north with checking accounts can mind their own beeswaxes and let us elect our own people down here.
I know that there’s a bigger picture; that a couple switches in some key states and the whole federal government changes. That’s not my problem. I’ve got enough on my plate right here in the 22nd Congressional District in South Florida. I have candidates swarming around me like the album-hurling scene of Sean of the Dead, and I don’t need requests from candidates in the Wild West and the Heartland. It’s hard enough to keep track of my own issues. I saw a yard sign for VOTE NO ON 4 and I mused aloud, “What’s Issue 4?” Someone in my car said, “I don’t know, probably something about Don’t Ask Don’t Tell.”
See how confused we are? We’re getting bombarded by candidates and issues that are filling up valuable brain space, but when we go into the voting booth, there are going to be a measly five things to vote on.
I hope I don’t get confused and write in Christine O’Donnell’s name.