Now why would I be frustrated?

This morning wasn't at all frustrating. The ridiculous bed came, the ridiculous bed was assembled, Bird played on the ridiculous bed, all was well. The same cannot be said for the rest of the day. Oh, nothing went wrong, per se. No. Just...annoying. You may have noticed there's an election on? Well, here in Georgia, today was the day to go and vote. Apparently this means that it was the day for the candidates to crank up the evil charm and let the voters know how terribly important we are to them, how much they love us and need us and how they know we are an integral part of the political system and their future.

How do they go about this? I'm so glad you asked.

They could pound the pavement, shake hands, meet and greet, hold town-hall style meetings, or even go door to door. They could. Of course, that would mean actually coming face to face with voters, some of whom may not like them. The horror. No, best not risk it.

Instead, they call. Well, how lovely, to have a chance to chat with a candidate, hear their views on the issues that mean the most to...what?...wait...oh, I see. It's a recording.

Yes, that's how much we mean to them...we mean exactly enough to annoy the crap out of us by making the phone ring every fifteen to twenty minutes all day long and playing a recorded message about how important our votes are to them.

I feel so loved, really. How could I not? Several of the people running for president of this nation took time out of their busy day to dial my number and...what?..they didn't dial my number themselves so they could let me know how much I mean to them? It was a random auto-dialer? They don't even know I exist, don't really care about my thoughts on things like taxes, immigration, education, human rights and freedom? Oh. I'm crushed.

If they are wooing me by computer, how on earth am I supposed to believe that they give a rat's ass?

Truth is, they don't. Not about me, or my son, or what I think about any of them and their annoying computer calls every fifteen to twenty minutes all day long. They may care when they find out that I won't vote for anyone who has a computer call me and do their dirty work (at the last minute, no less). I am OK with my place as a nobody in the political machine - after all, I don't give them my money, don't sport anyone's bumper stickers, pins, hats, tattoos, or other signs of support. I'm just a voter. What good are we?

Ah, ahem. Perhaps they'd like to think about that a little. Meanwhile, perhaps you'd like to join me? Tell your candidate you won't vote for them if their computer calls you. This isn't a party thing...it's not about who you prefer or why. It's about respecting us enough to make a little effort, to appear in person and give access to the people they need to win this whole silly game. I know it's a lot of work, it's a lot of travel, it's a lot of walking, schmoozing, time on the trail. So what? We, the people, aren't worth it? They're asking us to give them our nation's top position so is it really too much to ask that they let us say hello, shake a hand, offer 'em a hotdog or something? Nah...most of us aren't lobbyists, special interests, or millionaires with money to offer, so we don't count.

I guess they think it's enough to have a computer randomly dial us up and kiss our ass.

I wonder if they break up with people's answering machines, too?