Eureka! I have a cause.
There is an issue that I hold near and dear. And I
will support any candidate for any office who has the wisdom and vision to
agree with me.
Now I know that a country without borders isn’t a
country. After all, if there were no borders how would we know what country we
were in? How would we know to whom we didn’t want to pay taxes? How would we
know which language to mangle? These are important questions; but they’re not
my questions.
And I know it would be a really radical move to
endorse the Green New Deal before the glaciers melted, the tsunamis roared, and
this thermostat was stuck at 112°F. but there’s still a bit of coal and oil
ready to burn and it would be a shame if all that fuel, already extracted from
the earth, were wasted. and what about the billions of livestock housed in
factory farms. What a shame it would be if, after all they’ve gone through,
their mission would be scrubbed, and they wouldn’t be allowed to make the
ultimate sacrifice. Our thoughts and prayers go out to them.
And don’t worry. There are plenty more thoughts and
prayers where those came from.
But my new cause — my lovely new cause —is a lot
closer to home. It is located in my phone. “All politics is local” is one of my
favorite political truisms. (The others come from George Plunkitt of Tammany
Hall who both explained the differences between honest and dishonest graft, and
declared, “I seen my opportunities and I took ‘em.”)
Let’s put Robocalls on permanent disconnect. Those efficient, impersonal phone messages reduce
recipients to the status of targets. My mama didn’t raise me to be an algorithm’s
collateral damage. But here we are in the 21st century, and I get
phone calls from people who don’t really exist — at least at the moment they’re
calling me. Even though these nonexistent people don’t know me, they know all
about my medical, credit, and other needs. I have one nice nonexistent young
lady calling to tell me that my car’s warranty expired. I don’t have the heart
to tell her that I don’t own a car. And of course I couldn’t really tell her
because she doesn’t really exist. She’s just a chip off the old module .(Or is
that a module off the old chip?) And, patsy that I am, I actually wonder if the
robot would be offended if I hung up on it.
Then there are the political calls.
Every year, there are one or two seasons (depending
upon whether or not there’s a primary) when my elected officials and their
friends remember my phone number.
“Hello,” begins
the recorded message, “this is Senator so-and-so– –“
“No it’s not,”
I shout at — let’s face it — nobody in particular because there’s nobody at the
other end. The most damage I can do is hurt a robot’s feelings. That day will
come; but it’s not here yet (I think). And, of course, while I’m shouting, Senator
so-and-so is still talking, passionately describing the virtues of the
candidate I must vote for if I wish to protect the Republic. The esteemed
public official whose disembodied voice is talking to me actually is delivering
a second, separate, subliminal message.
“Hello. I’m Senator
so and so. I’m much too busy and
important to actually take the time to
talk to you. Therefore, I recorded a message that can be delivered to thousands
of people without getting my hands dirty. I hope you feel flattered that we
have your name and information on a list that we bought from somebody. After
all, the computer system we are using cost some donors a lot of money. You
should be honored that we are using it on you. See you on election day.”
