Political Surveys

There have been a lot of polls published lately about whose ahead in the election.
Not wanting to be left out I have conducted a few of my own of recent. Here are the results.
It should be noted I've been traveling a lot, so there is a variety of results.

If the election were held today, who would you vote for:

Respondents: Guys in a Montana Bar (Poll size 12)

Bush: 88 percent.
Kerry: 5 percent.
Any guy with a Gun: 17 percent.


People at the Folsom Street Fair in SF (S&M Fair) (Poll size 50,000)

Bush: 2 percent.
Kerry: 92 percent
Anyone with a whip: 45 percent.
Not sure who to whip: 6 percent.

Members of my workgroup (Poll size 35)

Bush: 25 Percent
Kerry: 30 Percent
Foreigners not eligible to vote: 50 percent.

Random friends of a departing foundry worker at a going away
dinner Saturday night in SF. (No I don't work in a foundry, my S.O.does.)
(Poll Size 20)

Bush: 0 percent
Kerry: 100 Percent
Undecided on where to go dancing afterward: 50 percent.
Not interested in dancing afterward: 50 percent.

Those activley working on Kerry Campaign
or having given money: 100 percent.

Random upper executives at SBC at a retirment dinner for a V.P.
(Poll Size 35) (Senior Officer present is a Republican.)

Bush: 100 percent
Kerry: Declined to respond (50 percent.)
Number Looking out for their career: 100 percent.

Doubters!

Some of you didn't believe I went to a haybail contest this weekend.

I present evidence to the contrary.

http://home.pacbell.net/sjpisle/hay.html

Studying the Base.

So,
I spent the weekend in Republican country this weekend: “Montana.” This would be an area Bush would call his “base.” It’s a dangerous place to be of the base. Being an out and proud registered Democrat in Montana is akin to being a member of the KKK in Berkeley. Probably nobody will kill you, but you may find it difficult to buy basic essentials like transportation and food from local merchants. (Though in Berkeley if you were a KKK member, we’d protest against you, boycott your economic base, destroy your following, and then put you on public assistance in rent controlled housing in the name of preserving diversity.)

But back to understanding Montana.

When George Bush made a victory trip to Montana after the 2000 election on Air Force One, he gave a free trip to the Congressional Delegation (the Republicans) minus the one who was a Democrat (Max Baucus). --He flew commercial. There was a certain amount of attention paid to this act by the local Montana newspapers, but it didn’t really diminish Bush’s popularity in that very rural state. In Montana there are very few really important things above and beyond, (this is if you are male btw) hunting, fishing and generally killing things. The NRA is big here. Well actually, guns are big here. So are trucks. But that has more to do with dirt roads and bad weather than anything about machismo. Also, its hard to get out to the boonies in a Audi to shoot things. So it’s a very practical state. If a man has a gun, a truck, and a woman to cook whatever he shoots, he is pretty much set. This may all sound a little non-progressive, but if you go to a bar in on of the many small towns in Montana you are more likely to hear George Thurgood than Madonna or Cher. Forget techno. Not that this bothers me much. I could forget techno.

I bring this all up, because I found myself in a couple bars, in a rural town in Montana last Saturday night. Now, I’m not going to tell you how limited I found rural values, I’m not going to tell you inappropriate I found a few of the jokes told to me. Nor am I going to tell you those jokes. No, I’m going to tell you how I, an occasionally organic vegetable eatin, intellectual poet, who knows way too many of the people, (and regularly invites them to my house) that the bar jokes were about, passed off as an okay guy.

Now, I didn’t really have plans for Saturday night, and my brother asked me if I wanted to go out on the town. (Mind you this town has less people in it than my boss has working for him, and I have more people working for me than the local town high school graduates every year.) So, it’s a little small. If you walk into a bar in a town that small people pay attention to you. After all they’ve been looking at the same faces since they were born. There are the normal questions: “Hey, who are you?” etc. In my case, people tend to note that I’m big. I was the tallest guy in the bar, and there was no “dirth of girth” as one of my Berkeley beer drinking friends puts it. –Or as a local cowboy put it, “You cast a big shadow my man.” I perked my eyebrow at him, and he quickly added. “In a good way, I mean.” I just chuckled and asked him if he wanted a beer. One dollar later, and a draft beer, he decided I was probably okay.

I suppose I should fill you in on the scene a little more. I was actually in two bars, “The Grand” and “The Keg.” I know these aren’t really well thought out names, but with bars outside of England, bar names tend to lack flare, (there are no “Speckled Hedgehogs.”) unless they are gay, and even then Montanan’s aren’t big on names. I mean a quick check of the web, shows the local gay bar in Montana is called: “The Loft.” –Somehow, I just know its in a basement. No, they are big on “The” name in Montana But we are talking about a state that is into basics. Towns in Montana tend to have two types of names. They are named after the white man that first stole the land from the local natives or they are a description of the landscape or local activity. So you get something like: Shepard, Klein, Roundup, or Coal Strip. (I guess thief’s lack imagination.)

So, back to the bar scene.

I was not wearing dusters, cowboy hats, or a baseball cap advertising a feed or tractor company. So I stood out. There were three women in the bars. (Not counting bartenders.) My brother’s wife. A wife of a guy I’m about to discuss, and a woman whose origin and relation I never identified. Beer was a dollar a glass, so origins of the locals are a little sketchy in my mind at this point. After about five of these dollar beers, the guy I’m about to talk about, got curious. I had been sitting with him for about fifteen minutes, and it occurred to the guy I'm about to talk about that he knew, my brother, his wife, my brothers friend, but didn’t know who I was. He, the guy I’m talking about, asked. (I might mention at this point, that I had been avoiding conversation with this guy I’m talking about, as he tended to use the “N” word in about every third sentence. He, the guy I’m talking about, asked me who I was. My brother said, I was his brother.
“Oh,” he said, (note he didn’t really know my brother), “Where are you from?”

There was a period of silence. (About fifteen seconds) before I said meekly, “California.”

The guy I’m talking about said , “CALIFORNIA! Christ.”

I gave him a dirty look. He, the guy I’m talking about, stared me in the face and asked me the toughest question he could think of for a guy that wouldn’t use the “N” word in any conversation. “You ever eat elk?”

I said, “Sure.” (The truth, my father assonates hoofed animals for sport.)

He sneered a little, “You ever eat deer liver?”
I said, “Sure.” (The truth, my father assonates hoofed animals for sport.) I had him stumped.

“You ever eat antelope?”

(I lied). “They don’t have much meat on them.” I responded. (I know this because, the truth is, my father assonates hoofed animals for sport.)

“Well, you fish don’t you?” he asked.
I had, so I said, “Of course.”

He said, “What you drinkin?”

He, the guy I’m talking about, bought me a beer, used the “N” word a few more times and asked me my name repeatedly. He couldn’t remember it, so he named me “Francisco” and told everyone for the rest of the night that was my name, cause, Montanan’s remember descriptions I guess. (Coal Strip is a name of a town.)

As he used the “N” word throughout the evening, I thought of a few questions for him?

“Had he ever herded, culled and assonated his own organic carrots?”
“Had he ever eaten the grilled freshly murdered heart of an artichoke?”

But I didn’t ask those questions, and that’s how I not only passed as a Republican from Montana, but got free beer from some Republicans and they guy I’m talking about.

Later this week, I'll tell you about the big hay stack sculpture fest I went to early on Saturday.

Genesis of the darkness

In the beginning there was a man from Texas (except he was really from Maine.).
And he looked upon the rest of the country (including Maine).
And he saw a country without form and little void.
And the void that was there were mostly bad piercing jobs in San Francisco.
And he saw those voids as holes. Voids which he did not understand.
And like most things he did not understand, he called them “darkness.”
And he saw the darkness as evil.

But in the darkness, he felt the Spirit of God upon his body.
And it was actually the spirit of spirits upon his body.
And he doused his tongue with the spirits regularly.
And they made his tongue silly. But he could feel the spirits.
And under the power of spirits he thought he flew with the birds when he did not.
And he thought he understood what he did not.
And those same flightly spirits, said he should give them up for the Spirit of God.
And he did.
And he thought it was good.

And he said he could feel the spirit of God within him.
And the spirit of God told him to be President.
And he was President.
And not because most of the voters thought he should be,
But because, five people robed in darkness said he should be.

And when he was President, he looked upon the face of the world and said, “I am the light.”
“And the spirit of God moves within me.”
And the spirit made his tongue silly. But he could feel the spirit.
And he said, “Let there be War!”
And there was War.

And the people began dying in the shadows and the face of the light.
And even as their sons and daughters died, they said, “You are the light.”
And they thought the light was good.
But their sons and daughters descended into darkness.

And they voted for the void.

Tom Ridge did this to me.

Eight or nine months ago. Maybe more. I’m not sure, I was walking into work in the morning. We have ACAS electronic keys to unlock the non-main entrance doors at SBC. I was following a rather rotund (I’m talking whole double doorway big here) woman who was pulling a roller suitcase behind her. She could lift the bag of potato chips at night but not her laptop for work I guess. She was going rather slow and taking up a good deal of the hallway in front of me, and quite oblivious that she was blocking my way. I was in a bit of a hurry being late for a meeting. But I just resigned myself to following and waiting for her. She reached to key kiosk, placed her badge on the kiosk, and unlocked the door. I did the same, to verify my key worked for her. We have policies against piggy backing on other employees entry keys. She then was struggling with the issue of holding the door open, and pulling her bag and herself through. So, I held the door open for her, and once she started through, I started following. As she crossed the threshold with me right behind her, a "bling" or something went off in her head. She stopped turned about, bumping me, and nearly tripping me with her suitcase. "I need to see your badge!" she said.I pointed to it, with my photo, hanging from the clip on my belt loop. She looked at me, "I didn’t hear the beep."I put the badge on the kiosk. It beeped. She said, "I didn’t hear it."I put the badge down again. It beeped. She said, "I didn’t here it."I don’t know, maybe it was the fat folds in her ear canals acting as twenty decibel filters, maybe if was the sound of cars driving by outside, maybe it was my dashing good looks distracting her or maybe she was just being dense, but I grew tired of the security game. "Look!" I said, "I’m obviously an employee. Now, let me in."She extended her arms across the rest of the doorway (about an inch) and leaned back a bit and said, "I can’t let you pass!"My sense of humor, and patience for the absurd is not always the best at 8:00 AM. I lost it a bit, and with a loud, deep, commanding voice (for which I get a lot of complements) I said two words, "JUST GO!"It echoed down the corridors of the four story half mile long building. Her eyes kind of bulged out, and opened wide. I could tell I had scared her, but, she stepped aside. Which was my goal.As I walked down the hallway, I realized I wasn’t going to hear the last of that. I’m mean a nut job like that isn’t going to realize she’s a nut job. She would instead report me to the Department of Homeland Security as a possible member of Al Qaida looking to blow up office cubicles with explosive devices cleverly concealed in my ACAS key. But months went by, and nothing ever came of it. Then yesterday, as I was being introduced at a town hall meeting as a member of the leadership team, by my new Vice President, the woman whose ears were plugged with fat globs, realized who I was. She went to corporate security right after the meeting, my name in hand, and reported me as a evil doer. "She wanted me removed from the building, she didn’t feel safe having me there."Needless to say, corporate security found a claim like this against a well respected (except by one person), and quite well known, senior manager, a bit hard to a swallow. But they did decide to discuss it informally with my boss. Who, by the way, just loved having to informally talk to me about it. He (my boss) suggested I show my badge when asked. I smirked at him like George Bush does when he’s at a loss for words. He suggested I not try and find out who reported me and I drop the issue. (Which strangely enough I didn’t bring up.) I guess I am. Except in my blog where I take revenge on all…….But I blame this all on Tom Ridge, and his buddy George. If they would stop issuing terrorist alerts, I might be able to get past fat do gooders, who hold grudges for a year in the morning. That’s why our economy is going to pot. Nobody is focused on real problems and what they are suppose to be doing. Obviously some woman at SBC is watching out for high profile, easily identifiable white Anglo-Saxon, badge and security cleared mole terrorist threat when she should be making money for the company.

After a little Dick!!!!

So,
After listening to Dick, explain why John Kerry, wouldn't be a good Commander and Chief, and after Zell Miller explained that John Kerry didn't understand, the Military, the Marines and good weapon systems, cause he was in the Navy. (Despite the fact that all the expensive weapons systems that he cited in he speach contributed less to the defeat of the Taliban than a bunch of hay and some donkeys did) I strolled down to my local favorite bartender, to have a beer with my local favorite professor (Who btw is also from Texas. --The bartender is from Vermont, so you can imagine what their opinions are like.) and indicated I might vote Republican. I was in Oakland so it was "okay", I thought. I decided to drink a lot of beer to reinforce my decision of late. Being a Republican that is. I mean I had heard ARNolds speach. He asked if I believe God, Liberty, and so forth, "Oh say can you see by the dawns early, and why should we wonder of it in every language deaf and dumb, thy sons acclaim, your glorious name, by jingle, by gosh, buy gum. --Be a manly mand and not a gurely man and it keepts the economy going and makes America great!


"BUT! But, But", the bartender brought me back to reality. I pointed out the bar seemed a little sparse tonight. He retorted: "Its the economy stupid. I mean I judge the economy based on the types of bills I get accross the bar. A few years back, it was like hundreds and fifties. Now, at the first of the month, when rent is due, the economy is like the Bush economic plan, everyone spends the same two hundred dollars saved, six times over. If I get someone in here, I get a lot of pennies for Pabst. And tips?"

I might mention the bartender is growing his hair long, and before the economy collapsed, and his wife got pregnant, he was considering moving to Portugal to write his novel.

Though as a slight rebuttal to Zell, I would like to point out, we really didn't need B-1s, B-2s, and F-14's to defeat a bunch of donkey cart riding guys from the 13 century. We could have done it with Sophwith Camels and about 100 less 1-2 billion dollar airplanes. For Iraq, well we might have needed some humvees and a few helicopters, but winning the intial battle wasn't the issue was it? Its figuring out how to rebuild those countries that is the big issue, and well, B-2's and F-14s aren't as good at that as, say a few allies andn some economic help are?

Great speach Zell and Dick, but kind of pointless. Yeah John Kerry is a pussy, flipp flopper, but Bushie is an overspending, under budgeting, borrowing, go it alone, zealot, ...... etc. etc.
Terrible Speaker.