until you people started calling me too many times. Now that I'm hearing from you at 10:00 on a Sunday night, I'm not voting for him any more!"

Please select the rest of this dialogue from the following:

1) "Actually, Dickweed, it's 8:50. And if you aren't smart enough to set your fucking clock forward, how the fuck do you expect to make it to the polls on Tuesday?"

2) "Wow. That has got to be the most reasonable, compelling argument for selecting a Presidential candidate I've ever heard. Wait a moment; I need to write this down."

3) "Oh, I'm so sorry that due to a combination of computer glitches and possibly misguided enthusiasm by people who actually give a shit about the future of this country, you've gotten more phone calls than you care for. Do you need me to verbally suck your dick before you're capable of doing the right thing?"

4) He hung up rather promptly, putting an end to the call and once again delivering me into temptation: when someone hangs up or is terribly rude, I just ache to program the system to ensure that we will, indeed, call them again. I mean, it stands to reason that if a conversation ends that abruptly, that the line just somehow got disconnected. And if the line got disconnected, that's just like they never answered in the first place. So they should get another call, right?

I was delivering this rationale to one of the volunteer college students, who I had thought would get that it was tongue-in-cheek, when one of the supervisors—a tall, intimidating PUMA—cut in and corrected me. "No," she told us, in no uncertain terms. "That counts as a "refusal to talk," and gets them off the list so they won't waste our time any more."

I looked up at her, smiled and said, "but I'll bet you can understand the temptation!"

No smile in return; after all, I was preparing to lead nice young people down the rosy path to the everlasting bonfire. And there's no getting around that.

Posted by: Attila Girl at 02:03 AM | No Comments | Add Comment
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