George W. doesn't read my letters and Elliot Spitzer thinks I'm a Jew.
I'm not surprised by the first and am rather confused by the second.
A week or so ago, I sent a letter to the Monkey-in-Chief taking him to task over his refusal to do anything to preserve the assault weapon ban. I knew he wasn't going to do anything about it; if the NRA told a Republican to sodomize himself with a cactus, the only thing the Repub would say is 'how deep' and 'how much will you contribute to my campaign'.
But I digress.
Now I knew full well that W. wasn't going to read my letter. First, he's the President. Between taking vacations, campaigning and planning the invasions of various and sundry Middle Eastern countries, he doesn't have time for mail. And he went to Yale, so it's likely he's illiterate anyway. But I did expect that one of his minions would respond to the letter with a "we're sorry you disagree with the President on this issue, but" which would be followed by a well-written explanation of the President's reasons for opposing the assault weapon ban.
Instead I received a letter from the White House thanking me for supporting the President's "War on Terror".
Now I'm sitting here trying to figure out how allowing the sale of assault weapons assists in the war on terror.
At least when I wrote Boss Hogg*, the responses were on point.
Ah well, what can you do? Other than voting for Kerry, that is.
As for Elliot Spitzer, I have no idea how he decided that I'm Jewish. I mean, my full name reads like a tour of the British Isles. All I need is a little Welsh and I've got it all covered. But for whatever reason, A.G. Spitzer has decided I'm Jewish. In a way it's nice. He sends me cards at Hanukkah. Every Rosh Hashanah he sends me a nice letter. I appreciate it, however there are several generations of dour, Scottish Presbyterians rolling in their graves every time I say something in Hebrew. On the up side, I hear their otherworldly moans of joy every time I save a nickel or drink some Balblair. What can you do?
*My presidential nicknames from the early '80s on: Bonzo, FauxTex, Boss Hogg, and Monkey-in-Chief (or mono malcriado, when I'm in a Spanish mood . . . I was told it means 'poorly-made monkey' which is what the people in Quito call the people from Guayaquil).
If Kerry wins, I'm going to call him Eeyore.