We were in the midst of a perfectly wonderful evening last night, when the phone rang.
It was the Jim Watson campaign. I could tell because his name showed up on my television screen, in a creepy innovation that allows Rogers home phone to interrupt your regularly scheduled programming to let you know that yet another creditor is calling and you should not answer the phone.
“Leave it,” I told Scott, busily rewinding East Bound and Down, my current favorite Will Ferrell offering on HBO.
I mean, what could the Jim Watson campaign possibly say to me on this, the eve of the municipal vote? Hadn’t Jimbo already spurned me, refusing to give me a lawn sign over lo these many weeks? I called four times and each time I was told a crew was on its way with mallets and cardboard. And each time, I looked out at my lonely corner covered with fallen leaves, but alas, no sign, no sign at all.
My faithful bleaders will know that I’ve written several blogs about the sign issue. Maybe it’s trivial, but I don’t think so. My belief is if a candidate can’t deliver one lousy sign to a middle-aged woman and the FOUR OTHER VOTERS IN THE HOUSE, he doesn’t deserve those votes. Especially when I’m hearing how successful his campaign has become, how he has delivered thousands and thousands of signs — just not to me.
So it was that I decided a couple of weeks ago that I couldn’t vote for Milhouse, even if he finally brought me a sign in person. Too much water, my friend. I knew I couldn’t vote for Dr. Evil, either, and I’m fully and gleefully expecting that he will be cruising the Caribbean tomorrow or next day, on a journey to no-wheres-ville. And Andy Haydon is just too old and crotchety, too much of a one issue wonder to make me want to put an X next to his name.
So, it looks like it’s Jivin’ Clive Doucet for me.
The Deuce is a hard-working, well-principled and fun-loving fellow who hails from the inner core, same as me. He doesn’t like the Lansdowne project and neither do I, because we both think it was rigged. Also, his view on transportation resonated with me. Why should I, the taxpayer, fork out money for the next couple of decades to build a legacy project for this city council? I want the bus to come to my door now. In twenty-years, I’ll be 74 and probably be using ParaTranspo anyway.
So way to go, Clive, you got my vote today.
Too bad you’re not going to win.