Monday (the 17th). I've completed my first day of Democratic National Committee training (saturday) and am deposited here:
(ahh, technology.) I am armed with a Rap, several half-memorized paragraphs focus-group-honed to kung-fu money-soliciting perfection.
Most of the houses are empty this time of day. 1st one someone's at -- a broke couple.
2nd -- open front door, a 60-year-old man in thick-rimmed glasses at the sink.
Me, hesitantly: Hi.
Me: My name's Ben (rapport-building smile. I'm lonely enough to be able to do this part well every time) and I'm with the Democratic National Committee (see? I'm never going to forget this shit; I'll be like 80 and croaking
I remember when I worked for the campaign of John Kerry. A long time ago. In those days, we didn't have svenges; we had to walk on our own two feet. Yessir. I was wearing cargo shorts, because that was the style at the time, and --
Kid: Were you there when he was assassinated?
Me: Ahhh. You're thinking of John Kennedy. No, that was before my time. In any event, I would walk down the sidewalk to someone's door and say --
Kid: What's a sidewalk?
Me: Well, there used to be these pathways carved into the ground -- the surface, I mean, way up above; we used to live up there -- and --
Kid: When you went to the mines -- it must have taken a long time!
Me: No, no; this was before the mines. Long before. *cough* long pause No, we've rested long enough. Hand me my pickaxe, son.
Um, as I was saying.
Me: My name's Ben and I'm with the Democratic National Committee, workng to defeat President Bush in November.
Me: We're planning to run our biggest grassroots campaign ever and we're putting together resources now so that we can get out the truth about Bush's record -- how his tax cuts are really just for the rich, how he has no plan to create jobs, how he favors corporate interests over environmental ones.
Him: Well, you have two die-hard Kerry supporters living here.
Him: What're you looking for?
Me: Actually, we're fundraising right now.
Him: Get off my porch.
Me: We're asking for a contribution of fifty dollars. This will give us the resources we need to take back the white house. The best way to contribute is with a check.
Him: Get. Off. My. Porch.
Me: It's Canadian timber, right? (tapping foot against boards) Bush has ruined our relationship with Canada -- wood prices through the roof. Really, an investment in the Kerry campaign is an investment in yourself, your life, your community.
Him: Leave now. I'm calling the police.
Me: That's right! Kerry will direct funding to important public service priorities like putting more officers on the streets -- not like Bush, who's trying to send a man to mars. A man to mars! It's not like the scientific community supports him -- if you talk to any of the people down at the --
Him: Martha! Get my shotgun!
Me: -- university, they're as pissed off as anyone else. His incompetence, his ignorance of the relevant research across the spectrum of science, his --
Him: DIE, MOTHERFUCKER!
The shotgun blast pierced my shoulderblade and knocked me backwards -- back and sideways, really -- onto the steps. No. What really happened was
Him: Get off my porch.
Me: Okay, thanks for your time! (with cheery feeling)
Fucking douchebag. I should really quit the Kerry Campaign* and dedicate myself to making his life hell -- arson, killing his dog, that sort of thing. And when he votes for Bush I'll be like "Don't you see? I've won ! -- I've made you abandon your political ideals for a narrow personal vendetta. MWAHAHAHAHA!"