They all love me. They want to know they care about me and my concerns. Oh, heavens, I'm so spoiled. They call every day--Bill Clinton has called twice! Today it was my mayor, Scott Slifka, on the robo-call. And after him, two real people called. One was a person conducting a survey--a REAL survey this time. Not one of the three push polls we've gotten. Three. Of. Them.
Actually only one was truly horrendous--it pushed me right into the arms of the opposing candidate. The others weren't as badly skewed; they might have just been badly written polls even.
POLLS! Who knows how many polls we've missed? If pollsters hang up when they hear the answering machines then we've missed quite a few because about two weeks ago, I stopped answering the phone. The kids are the only ones who dive for it and even they don't much any more. They're the ones who report Scott and Bill's calls and push the phone at me when the real people are on the line--but really, even they ignore the ringing these days.
You think you're sick of CT-Sen race? Okay, you probably are. But those of us who live in CT are . .
. . . well, to be honest, we're torn about this matter. On the one hand, Everybody WANTS us. They court us, coo to us, call us day and night to ask us what we think, wave signs at us and offer us bumperstickers. I've even gotten a free teeshirt, just by standing around during a parade. (and I wear my Lamont shirt all the time.)
On the other, how many doctored and hideous pictures of the opposing candidate do we really need to get delivered in our mail? If you ask the candidates they'll say "Connecticut voters need a whole bunch. Enough to paper a small bathroom is about right."
We had an art contest at our house--which of the dozens of fancy-ass, full-bleed, expensive oversized brochures was most attractive? The Lieberman elephant won that. (Truth didn't count in the contest. It was the card that was all about how Lamont voted Republican when he was on the city council.)
Dan Malloy won the Scariest Leaflet but then his cards regularly paint his opponent, DeStephano, as a He-Devil.
In a couple of days, it'll be over. The cameras will be gone. No more calls, cards, teeshirts and flowers. No one will give a damn about my opinion any more.
I can't wait.
But that's only because all the love has left me as exhausted as those poor overheated lieberyouth listlessly wandering our neighborhood the other day.
And I can say goodbye because I know it's temporary. The intense affair isn't over yet--especially if Joe doesn't give up. Then they'll all be back in September to woo us again and by September I'll be longing to hear from Bill again. (You'll be calling us to talk about your new friend Ned, right, Bill?)