So I'm out collecting VbMs again, and I come to this house on the list. Ring the bell, no answer. Knock and still nothing. In between I'm looking at the house and in the corner of the window near the door is this sticker that reads, "This house is protected by Smith & Wesson." You know, more power to them. But what gets me is there is an obvious bullet-hole in the window pane just below this sticker. (I tried to get a cell phone photo but apparently I didn't save it, dang.)
We have a gun. And we know how to shoot our own window with it.
I left a Braley flier.
More amusement below...
Met a nice couple who are extremely blessed because their "other car is a TARDIS." I have to believe it because it was a bumper sticker. Got a VbM request from each of them and they asked if I'd like some water for my journey. We swapped scientific convention stories (my last one was in high school where James Doohan spoke, and I remember going to an IPTV convention where I asked a question of Janet Fielding, so there's some ancient sci-fi for y'all. Dear Lord I'm old.) I didn't ask their voter affiliation because let's face it, we all know which way intelligent people lean.
At another house a young boy was coming out, looking like he was taking out the garbage. I asked if "X" was home, he looked at me hesitatingly, then called inside. A deep male voice called back "Not Interested." The boy looked back rather sheepish at me and said she wasn't available. I looked at him and asked, "Who said she's not available," and he replied her husband. I said rather frustrated, "So she said she's not available or did that male voice say she's not available?" The boy walked on. I probably don't know all the dynamics of what's going on but it's really annoying when you meet a family where the male HoH makes unilateral decisions. Remember, I didn't even say who I was yet. I left a Braley flier.
To everyone who recommended my last diary, thank you very much. To all fellow canvassers, remember the tagline in my favorite TV show, "Faith Manages." We will get through this. By the end, our brains will probably be at the level of my other favorite TV show, "Where are my Pants?"