An election is coming. Universal peace is declared, and the foxes have a sincere interest in prolonging the lives of the poultry.
– George Eliot
I voted early.
Looking ahead, I thought there was a good chance those of us in the news business might get a bit busy during Tuesday’s primary, so why not take advantage of the advance opportunity?
I have not done this before, hesitating because I was always worried some candidate I happened to like might do something really stupid just before Election Day, and my ballot would turn into an electoral endorsement of a felon.
But life is risky that way.
Life is also still full of political pleas, and I wish there was a way to turn them off.
I have voted, so the candidates can leave me alone.
No more phone calls.
No more mailbox brochures.
And my TV should not show their commercials.
I’m sure modern technology can accommodate this.
And it makes sense.
There is no need for their continued demands upon my attention because I have rolled the dice and made my choice, committing citizenship’s highest responsibility.
So leave me alone, I say, until after you get sworn in; then I’ll expect a flurry of constituent service, most of it directed at better policing of the Do Not Call List.
Yes, like most of you I was neither happy nor surprised years ago when lawmakers set out to curb those unwanted home solicitations and “robo-” phone calls but apparently decided to leave political sales pitches in.
Why? I asked it then, and I’ll ask it again.
Which part of “Do Not Call” eludes you?
And if it’s not a blatant recorded political sales pitch, it’s one of those questionable “surveys” that seem to be leading me down a path of thorny primroses.
I had tried to make it a practice to never vote for anyone using or supporting such tele-phoniness, but they all pretty much do it, limiting my voting booth options.
So I now simply suggest that a politician will always get my vote if he or she comes up with legislation for a new and improved Leave Me Alone List, which would block the house phone, cellphone, mailbox and driveway from any and all unwanted approaches.
Until that happens, I’ve disconnected the land line and put my little white dog security force on alert.
He’s at the door now, Mr. Vote-Seeker. He’s looking out for me by looking out for you.
Do you like the growl? I taught him that.
Turning on the lawn sprinklers was my wife’s idea.