Politics

By the time you read this column, the local primary races should be behind us. Goodbye, political signs parked on public and private roadways and right-of-ways. It’s the small things that can drive one crazy. Or crazier, as the case may be. If we didn’t live in

If we didn’t live in a one-party county (Democrat), which means most of the incumbent Democrats never face a viable opponent in the primary and can still goof off between elections (certainly not all), and the Republicans still never win in the general (November) except for a few like Judge Jaime Tijerina (13th Court of Appeals), imagine how many more political signs there would be flooding the roadways.

Road rage? After a while, the political campaign signs give me road rage and I want to plow my truck through them, but what am I going to tell the cops?

“My foot got caught under the accelerator.”

“Need to check you for dementia, sir.”

Everything has a price.

The signs remind me of the “Stepford Wives” movie, where all the women look the same; men, too. Not really, but once you’ve seen one politician’s face on a big highway roadway sign, you’ve seen them all. Especially, if you’ve been seeing them for two looooooooong months.

Even now, while I’m sleeping, writing this column, I’m dreaming about these political signs as candidate faces and names flash through my mental imagery.

I’ve been looking at most of them since the start of the new year when they really started to flood highways and bi-ways, and now I’ve gotten to the point where I make hand gestures at some of them as I pass by.

“Hi.”

At the start of this election cycle (the primary), I thought I’d make some extra money by offering knock-down services.

“Give me twenty bucks and I’ll knock down your opponent’s campaign sign. Two signs for $15.”

After all, I’m not looking to get rich.

Then some Canadian snowbirds under-bid me, wanting to mix work with exercise while away from the frozen tundra, so I lost out on that gig. Looks like they’re using shuffle board paddles to knock over both the big and little signs, but I can’t be sure. It was too dark. Plus, they weren’t wearing their park badges.

Still, the political signs do prove wearing over time. I know all the candidates on a first-name basis by now, I’ve run into their signs so often, and how is it that all of them look as if they want to be my friend?

Not all. Some look serious with just a hint of a smile, but they all have to look friendly to some degree. Why I’d never run for politics.

“Smile for the camera.” “Why? I hate smiling on cue.”

Some candidates may look friendly, but I’ll fix that real quick and call them up for a loan.

“Hi, I’m one of your eligible constituents…and I’m short of money…can I maybe borrow…”

Click.

“We’re homeless, my children are hungry, can you spare a dime?”

Click. “Hi, I’m a lucrative vendor who would like to do work for you once you’re sworn into office, and I think I can show you how this will prove beneficial to you. We are covered under the no-bid clause, by the way. None of that pesky RFP (request for proposals) stuff.”

“I’m listening …” Obviously, not all candidates are in it for themselves or family members, but how many are?

There actually are some Republicans running in the race for a Congressional seat. Maybe I can hit them up for some dough. They love their fellow neighbor and Jesus. Says so right on their rear bumper.

“Hi, I’m broke, but I, too, think the 2020 election was stolen. I was wondering if you can spare any money???” Click.

Reminds me of that old ‘60s song, “Sign, sign, everywhere a sign, blocking out the scenery, breakin’ my mind…”

My mind is broke. Too many political signs.

Hey, that one’s tipping over.