From Pine View Farm

Citizens Benighted 0

I mentioned “Citizens United” earlier.

I get frequent calls from “Citizens United.” (See Note below.)

Tonight I actually answered one.

The caller said that she was conducting a poll for “mumble.” (No, she didn’t mumble. I just can’t remember what she said.)

After asking me a heavily biased question (something about “the latest outrageous proposal from the Hillary Clinton campaign,” not that I am a Hillary fan, but I can recognize bias when I hear it) the caller asked me whether I would listen to a short message.

I asked her if she represented Citizens United. She said, “That is the organization that I represent.” (Her “mumble” cited above in no way resembled “sit-i-zens you-night-ted”; Caller ID is your friend.)

I asked her if this were the same Citizens United responsible for the lying Newt Gingrich commercial about the recently defeated immigration bill (see the link at the very beginning of this post).

She claimed ignorance.

I said, “As far as I am concerned, your organization is nothing more than a lying Republican Front and I expect you never to call me again.”

We will see how well they respect the wishes of citizens disgusted.


Note: I probably get all this Republican lies propaganda because of address changes resulting from my father’s death.

My father served as campaign manager for Bob Bloxom, a fine man who represented the Eastern Shore of Virginia well as a Republican in the Virginia House of Delegates, earning the nickname, “Conscience of the House.” My father served as his campaign manager because of his respect for Mr. Bloxom, not because of Mr. Bloxom’s party affliation.

Mr. Bloxom was eventually stabbed in the back by wingnut supporters of George “Macaca” Allen, Embarassment of Virginia, for not being sufficiently wingnutty. Subsequently, he was appointed Virginia Secretary of Agriculture by two Democratic Governors. My father, by the way, had as much use for the Current Federal Administrator as he had for dock weed.

He expected public servants (oh, I forgot, George DubbaYou is not a servant, he is a king) to serve with at least a pretense of integrity.

I will share one story.

We were sitting at home back in 1973 watching news reports of the Saturday Night Massacre. My father disappeared from the living room for fully 45 minutes. I figured out later he–who had voted for Nixon twice–was sending “impeach Nixon” telegrams (yeah, I’m old–you can’t send a telegram any more) to all our representatives incongruously assembled.


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