As the east coast of the United States slowly turns into a desert, the population hunkered down behind glass in air-conditioned splendor, the government in Washington, D.C. continues fighting over the debt ceiling. Considering that most Americans have been living on credit and “enjoying” staycations for over a decade, the concept of America welching on its commitments in the midst of a worldwide recession doesn’t sit well. This impasse makes all politicians look bad.
I know politics isn’t for everyone, but I promised myself I’d get a book out of volunteering on the Anna Bola campaign for Attorney General of Maryland. Since it sure don’t look like I’m gonna get anything else out of it, as Harry Potter would say, “Specialis Revelio!”
We’ll start with the hype: This is a statewide campaign encompassing all 23 counties, from the tobacco fields upstate to the cornpone and crabmeat of the Eastern Shore. This voter drive includes Baltimore and Annapolis. To quote Miss Jamie, our 23-year-old intern supervisor, blond, attractive, incredibly young, “We’ve dialed 18,514 telephone calls and held 4,302 conversations. We’ve knocked on 11,736 doors, gotten 5,709 strong supporters, taken 622 requests for yard signs, received email addresses for 2,136 voters, and fielded zero volunteers. What’s wrong with this picture?”
In addition, we’ve marched in seven parades (groan!), attended four (groan!) county fairs, participated in five debates, held 8 fundraisers in hotel ballrooms, and had Anna do the meet-and-greet at private parties held in individual homes no less than 26 times.
Operating out of Anna’s house in the trendy backwater town of Oxburg, Maryland, located in Montgomery County, our stalwart crew has canvassed the state, leaving no stone unturned. This has included cemeteries and Civil War battlefields, where applicable. Who says the dead don’t vote?!
Super-Skypers, this campaign has videoteleconferenced to beat the band: strategists, speechwriters, pollsters, consultants, pundits, everybody works from their office and telecommutes. Truly a network, we have received data from so far afield as Mumbai. We have consulted with pollsters in Sochi, Russia. I don’t know how useful the info is, but we’ve done it. At the risk of waking the sleeping giant known as the State Department, we’ve even been in regular contact with Jerusalem.
The State Department is prickly about Israel because, second only to the Russians, no one does espionage against the United States like the Israelis.
You like Skype? Computer telephony is an Israeli invention, for God’s sake! Five years before anyone else, the Israelis pioneered “VoIP” technology (voice over internet protocol). Israeli emigrants called home on-screen. Even physically, they are seven hours ahead of us: If it’s 6 p.m. here, it’s one o’clock in the morning over there. Talking with Josie at the Jewish National Fund— basically, they plant trees and use the donations for everything else— we agree on some things. The legality of settlements in the West Bank? We agree, “Possession is 9/10’s of the law.” The Gaza embargo? Agreed, “We’ll break the necks of anyone who tries to break the embargo.” The two-state solution? “The Palestinians will never be happy until the Jews march backward into the sea!” Peace Now? “Some Jews are filled with self-loathing. The self-hating Jews join Peace Now!” I can hear the hubbub of the JNF Call Center in the background, many voices making appeals. Josie’s Russian/Hebrew accent melts my heart. Dispensing with politics, we get to the real meat and potatoes of our conversation: The weather. “The heat is so bad,” he tells me, “it’s incredible. Most of the houses don’t even have A/C. So we’re suffering.”
I know talking long distance internationally over the computer is standard office routine. People do it all the time, but I haven’t previously experienced it. The endless minutiae of neighborhood voter preferences, issue research, scheduling and voter registration is, for me, way too much information. It’s the process I like. I’m less enthusiastic when the person portrayed on-screen is campaign treasurer Fluffens or the staff has tuned to Rachel Ray talking about meatball goulash, but otherwise, I’m game. When everyone else breaks down with a case of the giggles, and campaign manager Eric calls out to me, “Good times on the campaign trail, Kevin!”, I don’t disappoint. Campaign handyman and mascot, I assure him, “Oh, yeah!”
It’s 27 days before the primary and the Battle of the Yard Signs has left me with egg-sized blisters on my fingers. I don’t know who Eric’s other volunteer is, but he or she, admirably, has peppered Montgomery County with Anna Bola yard signs. I never realized how soft and well-manicured our neighborhood lawns are, until trying to sink a yard sign into the rock-hard earth of a county right-of-way. Standing deep in scrub grass filled with chiggers, fleas, gnats, ticks and other biting insects, I get eaten alive on the traffic islands, vehemently trying to push in a yardy! Since this just ain’t gonna happen, I have procured a screwdriver with an exceptionally thin, long shaft that I pound into the ground with a hammer. Utilizing the strength of Hercules, I valiantly rescue this tool that once belonged to my late dad Bernie. [Note: Cheap ploy to gain your sympathy.] Shoving one metal leg of the sign into this hole, I follow the same procedure on the opposite side. Hopefully, the sign will sink more than one inch into the unyielding soil.
Sweltering in the blast-furnace heat of this excruciating summer, many a swear word mingles with the roar of on-coming traffic. I was ready to give up and tell Eric, “Find some other customer,” but a few artistically-placed yard signs on hills adjacent to public parks, in flower boxes fronting Metro stations, and inevitably, on islands in the middle of roadways, reawakened my sense of sport.
Hiram Whiplash supporters have spent a fortune on signs: A traffic island doesn’t receive a measly one or two. As in all things Hiram Whiplash, his people insist on overdoing it. Six yard signs on each and every traffic island march along in step with the traffic.
Rather than try to compete, I choose my spot and place a single, solitary Anna sign adjacent to Hiram’s minions. Everybody likes an underdog, and Anna’s lonely little blue and white signs accentuate the difference between the campaigns. “Our little shepherdess among the wolves,” is the effect I seek. “Little Miss Muffet amid a sea of red and white spiders.”
This comic effect has kept me going, despite having my fingers taped in bandages and bug bites liberally spaced about my body.
Listen, anything is better than setting up signs outside BWI-Marshall, where the planes roar in loud and low. Those cute contrails pouring off the wings are the pilot dumping excess fuel. It makes for a safer landing, but I wouldn’t want to live there.
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Kudos to AT&T, I think our telephonic Town Hall Meeting went reasonably well, considering we ran it on a singles hotline. “When will titty bars be reclassified as family entertainment?” kind of threw us, but Anna was brave when asked, “Should partners in same-sex marriages remain chaste before, during or after the marriage ceremony?”
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EDITORIAL: “Both candidates for the Democratic nomination are equally patriotic, equally American and equally active in politics. Some, however, are more equal than others. Just as a B-2 Stealth bomber burns more fuel than an F-4 Phantom, we feel A.B. is the heavier contender. She’s not just steeped in ability, she’s Obi-Wan Kenobi-steeped in ability.
For our civilian readers, the vast majority, we apply the analogy of creamery butter. Everybody likes their butter creamy, but there’s no accounting for taste. Choose accordingly. Hiram Whiplash seems a nice enough person, but that doesn’t mean we want him for State Attorney General. Our next-door neighbors are also nice, but oy veh, you’d have to be meshuganah to even consider them for elective office!
This election is a case of ‘On what side do you want your toast buttered?’ You can butter us up, but we may yet abstain— in protest— from voting. Until someone kicks ass in Washington, until someone gets the debt ceiling raised and a handle on the economy, it’s hard to stay focused on anything, much less the election for Attorney General. According to our word count, we have now written the requisite six column inches on this subject. That said, do whatever strikes your fancy. Regarding anything. I myself am going out for coffee. Later!”
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Dear Anna,
The yardsign I received had a white fleck about 1/16 inch square, squarely on the edge of the Navy blue border. I know you feel you can do this only because I am a widowed, Jewish, handicapped person of limited means.
I shall continue to support you, but with deep misgivings.
Sincerely, Ethel Rosenwasser
*
Jennifer Lopez is running for the School Board. Of course, it isn’t that J-Lo. Our Jennifer Lopez is 42 years old.
Three weeks before the primary, both campaigns are going whacko! Now it’s the Battle of the Websites: At “Bananatricks,” Hiram supporters’ oppositional research site, they busy themselves publishing Anna’s dirty laundry. “This sheep in wolf’s clothing,” they rant, “is in actuality securely in the pockets of the cable companies!!! Comcast, Verizon Fios and T-Mobile have all made contributions to Anna’s campaign!”
“This is crazy,” Anna complains to us over her kitchen table and in print, “Hiram Whiplash has also accepted contributions from the cable companies!”
A smear is a smear, however. “Anna Bola In Bed With Cablers,” read the blogs.
“Hiram’s Magical Mystery $180,000” our bloggers respond. “Where’d Mr. Clean Shirt Club get the money, honey???”
“Anna Bola in pockets of safari shirt manufacturers!… As many pockets as a safari shirt, Anna Bola sits in every one of them!”
or
“Anna Bola In Bed With Sealy Posturepedic!”
or
“Anna Bola takes money from C.I.A.!!!… The Bola campaign makes no bones about the hefty $500 contribution from brothers Sidney and Isaac Shelton, owners of Custom Ice Associates of Waldorf, Maryland. “Even in a downturn, companies still book private ice cubes for their parties and charitable events,” Sidney Shelton explained in this exclusive interview. “It’s the size, shapes and colors that appeal to our customer base. Our slogan remains unchanged these 50 years: ‘Stay Out of Hot Water, Order Your Ice Here!’ Corny but effective. We feel the same about Anna Bola. She’ll be a boring Attorney General, but I mean that in a good way. Boring into corruption, boring into organized crime, upending cold cases. And we know from cold! Relentless. A pretty icy customer, if you get my drift.”
I didn’t know politics could give me freezer burn.
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Lolita Mancheno-Smoak is running for an At-Large seat on the Fairfax County School Board in Virginia. With a name like Lolita, she’s a shoe-in. I’ve found a Lolita of my own at our community swimming pool. I wouldn’t normally go, but I truly need some down time. Seventeen years old, her body clad in a candy-stripe green and white bikini, toenails painted a shocking pink, sun-bleached hair as perfectly air-dried as a shampoo commercial, slender fingers and sweet hands, regulation little-girl sunglasses, she reclines daily on a chaisse lounge, reading fashion mags. She puts the “u” in “cute.” She reads articles entitled:
“12 Ways To Improve Your Lip Gloss”
“If He Can’t Hear You, Try Esperanto”
“The Proper Length Glove For Evening Wear”
“Charlene of Monaco Secrets Exposed!”
Her name is Polina and it took me FOREVER to realize she’s a 17-year-old Russian immigrant and wants nothing to do with me, bandaged hands and all.
*
At a news conference on public access television, requested by no one, current Oxburg mayor Sparky Welles tells us: “I am willing to take significant heat from my constituents regarding my personal vision, and plan, encompassing the bulldozing of Natalie Woods in order to erect a condominium complex of 125 new dwellings, as well as meaningful additional retail space at ground level for boutiques, restaurants and stores of every description.
“I am willing to consider such amenities as an indoor gym and a multiplex cinema exhibiting Hong Kong Kung Fu features on a regular basis for the art house crowd. They are, all things considered, a potentially rich pool of investors.
“To those who say, ‘It can’t be done,’ I say, ‘It can and shall be done.’ Riverdale Creek can provide sufficient fresh water resources to allow for indoor plumbing, flush toilets, and standard shower fixtures in every condo, without further taxing the existing water table.
“Woodland glades, pretty though they may be, do not generate tax revenues!
“If not now, when?
“Let the word go forth to friend and foe alike, ‘A $120,000 down payment secures you unlimited access to planning committee meetings, architectural drawings, artists’ renditions, wallpaper swatches and a color-coordinated pie chart by interior decorator Mel Vin.’
“Don’t miss this wonderful opportunity to get in on the ground floor of a project that will only increase in value over the years.
“Easy access to Rockville Pike and, of course, the high-end suburban mecca of Chevy Chase. Why be stuck on the Beltway when you can spend an equal amount of time and gas stalled in line on Wisconsin Avenue?
“But enough about me! The only thing standing in our way is the approval of the Town Council. Their switchboard is open 8 a.m. to 4 p.m. Monday through Friday except for the July 4th weekend and on Yom Kippur. Call and demand the passage of Town Zoning Ordinance 1137—that’s one, one, three, seven—and let’s get this row on the shoad. Time’s a-wastin’! To quote the illustrious adventurer and cultural icon H. Potter, ‘Erecto! ’
“I’d also like at this time to deny any allegations of untoward sexual conduct during my recent school inspection tour of the girls’ locker room at Oxburg High. Forensic tests will show that, while my shoes left tangible prints on the tiles of the shower stalls, the purported semen stains were found in the bushes on the southwest side of the building, not exactly a teeming thoroughfare. So don’t let malicious, wagging tongues tell you otherwise.
“We need to build these condos today to secure Oxburg’s budget for the next 30 years. The country’s broke, don’t let it happen to you!
“I need your help! Support me on this initiative. I’ve already bought surrounding acreage on the spot market. If this little project goes through, I stand to make a goodly profit. You elected me! Obviously, you wish me to succeed.
“Somebody has to be mayor!
“Vote ‘yes’ on Proposition 4 in the upcoming referendum.
“ ‘What’s good for General Motors is good for the U.S.A.,’ ” Sparky concluded, “Thank you and God bless.”
The explosive reaction of citizens’ groups and environmentalists was not long in coming.
*
I know I started off talking politics, but I’ve got a problem here. I have received A COMPLAINT from one of my younger readers. “Everything you write about is all messed up!” he writes. Guilty as charged! I find these screw-ups comical, that’s why I write about them. An alternative to droid rage, I try to couch disaster in high-end language and succinct phraseology. This one’s for you, Ilya!
Five days a week, I continue to make my living as a screenwriter, although I do try to get one day off, out of every seven, for good behavior. Together with my partner Bruce— aka “Boopsie”— at Montevideo Films [Marca Registrada], we specialize in sequels, prequels, mashups, parodies, lampoons, satires and blue movie porno flicks. Erase that last part! What am I saying? That our desperation for geld would drive us to debase ourselves in unscrupulous ways??? Well… as the man said in the movie Dave, “Yeah… I guess I am.”
Pitching these yarns over the phone to Hollywood takes a lot of chutzpah. To quote Heimie Aaronsky, “You got a lot of damn noive calling me with a tale like this, you yid! So… what happens next?! In your movie?”
The following is a screenplay I’m really proud of!
Harry Poofter and the Totally Bad, Thoroughly Abysmal, Really Awful, Pretty Crumby, Not So Good, Very Lousy Christmas Vacation
by B. Davis & K. Feingold
Synopsis
Young Harry, his cat Hermeline and his best friend Jacek travel to Jacek’s brother in New York who runs a Polish-owned limousine service. The brother, Andrez, puts them to work washing cars, vacuuming automotive interiors, polishing chrome and wiping down dashboards with a mild detergent. This makes for a three-hour movie, but have heart, Harry discovers a dropped microchip with encrypted blueprints of Chinese drones. Striking a deal with the Chinese consulate, Harry and Hermeline and Jacek return the chip in exchange for the release of half a dozen Falu Gong dissidents. This wins Harry two Wizard points and promotion to Junior Journeyman Assistant Associate Wizard’s Apprentice. This movie is pitched as the first in a very lo-o-o-o-ong franchise.
An added feature in this premiere event is the shower scene where Harry’s bum is clearly, pinkly visible. Since Boopsie and I wrote the screenplay, we also have Harry in the act of French-kissing a groundhog, although the studio says, for contractual reasons, they are going to CGI the groundhog. Apparently, the young actor playing Harry has dander issues.
The TV rights are being shopped in Brazil, since the Chinese market has, understandably, taken a hands-off approach. I’m told the storyline will be the basis for a game show. I think they’re going to have speed car washing contests, video monitor games portraying drone strikes (“Contestant A, see if you can hit the SUV full of little children from the Somali orphanage! Oh my! I say! Good shot!”) and Tiger Ladies slinking around in Chinese silk kimonos. My Portuguese is almost non-existent, but I do look forward to seeing an episode on YouTube.
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yustyoking 
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