A Phone Call

159 A Phone Call

Ring, Ring!

“Hello?”

Long silence, then

“This is a survey. It will only take a few moments. We need your opinion as we approach the mid-term election of 2006. We are not trying to sell you anything. Please push ‘one’ to continue.

There is no one around to push. Maybe they mean “press one” on the keypad. Okay.

“Beep.”

Long silence (they like that, apparently.) Then

“Thank you for agreeing to participate in our pre-election survey. On a scale of 1 to 5 with five being the most positive and one the least, please rate the following statement: ‘I think terrorists are treated unfairly and should be released from jail pending further court action and given the same rights as Good Americans like you and me.’”

“Beep.”

“Thank you for your answer. You are a commie creep and probably should be in jail yourself.

“Question two: on a scale of 1 to 5 with five being strong agreement and one as strong disagreement, please rate the following statement: ‘I think abortion should be outlawed and approve of a Constitutional amendment to do so.’”

“Beep.”

“You are a baby killing commie creep, and probably should go to jail.

“Question three: Please rate the following statement with five being strong agreement and 1 being the least: Members of Congress have tough jobs and should be allowed to recreate with young men and women now considered ‘under age’ by some wrong thinkers.”

“Beep.”

“You are opposed to individual freedom and have no place among Real Americans.

“Question four: on a scale of 1 to 5, with five indicating strong agreement, and one meaning you disagree, please rate the following statement: ‘The death tax is unfair and should be repealed, as should taxes on investment income.’”

“Beep!”

“Go back to Russia!

“Question five: knowing what you know today, do you think the invasion of Iraq was a good idea?”

“Beep.”

“Thank you for participating in our Freedom Now! Survey. You will soon receive a small token of our appreciation. A large, midnight blue Ford Crown Victoria sedan with oversized tires and no hubcaps will soon pull up at your driveway. Four delivery men in black suits, wearing aviator reflective sunglasses and carrying small rifles for your protection will emerge, ring your bell and take you to your prize. Please cooperate with them. It will go a lot easier for you.

“I’m George W. Bush and I approved of this message.”

(c) 2006 WJR