Here it is, April Fool’s Day, 2015, a perfect date to remind us that the Parties and Pollsters and Politians are gearing up for the 2016 Presidential election. We probably get at least three calls a week from one campaign camp or another, asking for our support in the form of money. We continue to be polite, and say that we’ll donate once we decide who we want to support, which won’t happen until we’ve watched a few debates and attrition whittles down the field. If being polite doesn’t work, we say we’re moving to Canada and hang up.

Then there’s the mail. I know that the political litter that falls through our mail slot almost daily right now is minor compared to the avalanche that will start showing up next year. I try to weed out most of the junk and only give Mom a few pieces because I know she enjoys opening envelopes almost as much as opening her boxes with her Publisher’s Clearing House purchases. On those few and far between days when there’s no Publisher’s Clearing House drawing entry for her to sift through, I supplement with other piece of junk mail, including the stuff from various candidates, PACs, and other official Party line propaganda.

For example, yesterday Bill and I and Mom all got identical, very official looking envelopes from the Republican National Committee. Printed on the outside was the announcement “Membership Card Enclosed.” Since neither Bill or I are ‘members’ of the Republican National Committee, I threw our envelopes in the trash. Other than this piece of mail, the only other thing addressed to Mom was a notification from AAA that she could get discounted auto insurance. I handed her the envelopes and went back to the office to continue working on our latest project.

Ten minutes later, she called out from the living room, “Patty, you need to see this.” I expected her to tell me to call AAA and inform them that she doesn’t have a car anymore, but I was wrong.

“I guess these people don’t know I quit driving,” she said, tossing the AAA solicitation into the waste basket.

“I guess not,” I replied. “What’s up?”

“Well look at this stuff,” she said, handing me the contents of the Republican National Committee envelop. “I don’t understand why they think I joined their club, but now they want me to pay for it.”

“No they don’t, Mom,” I sighed. “It’s just a political solicitation.”

“Well I don’t think that’s right to make people pay to vote, that’s all I know,” she grumbled. “In fact, I’m pretty sure it’s illegal. Besides, I don’t use a booth, I mail in my vote so I don’t need to show my membership card.”

“They aren’t asking you to pay to vote or join their club. They just want a donation,” I explained, turning to go back to work. “So ignore it and throw it away.”

“Well if they’re going to try to trick me into sending them money they’ve got another think coming, she huffed, tossing the material into her little waste basket. “I might as well turn into a librarian. It’d serve them right,”

“A librarian?” I asked, pulling up just short of the hallway.

“Yes, you know, like that Rant guy. The one with the curly hair.”

“Rand Paul? He’s a Libertarian, Mom, not a librarian.”

Okay, fine, a Libertarian then,” she said with a nod. “I bet they don’t make you pay to vote.”

voting booth


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