Election Day is coming up for local mayor, council and other offices. I won’t name the city where I live, because my rant challenges both the intelligence and honesty of the candidates.
Daily for the past month, batches of expensively-printed vote-for-me posters and letters have been stuffed into my mailbox. There are even larger, more colorful political posters defacing our streets, parks and storefronts.
Half-a-dozen times daily my phone rings with recorded phone calls. Each begins with, “How are you today?”, or other fatuous words that don’t expect an answer before going into the vote-for-me pitch.
I spent decades in the advertising business, and can understand why these political candidates spend so much money tormenting voters with print, mail and phoning. They’re hoping to win election, and then recover all that money and much more by consulting with
taking bribes fromroad and building contractors.
Anyhow, at almost age 90, as I sit in my lonely room, it isn’t that I don’t welcome a kindly call to ask how I feel. It’s just that, because of advanced years and physical requirements, too many calls happen just when I’m answering nature’s call in a much smaller room.