Operation Eskimo

There was a time, not so long ago, when the only annoying calls you would receive on your cell phone were from your parents or wrong numbers. —“No, I don’t know Carlota nor why she stood you up.”—  

My day was interrupted not once but twice on Saturday by political pollsters.  Ohio is a swing state and everyone wants to know what we think. The more information the candidates have, the more they can tailor their message to move us to their side and motivate us to actually vote.

Obama or Romney? Brown or Mandel? The pollsters only asked about these two races. They also wanted to know if I was really committed to my choice or just leaning in that direction. Once those few questions were out of the way, the serious information collection began.

I was told that the next few questions were simply for demographic purposes. I was asked my religion, my age, my occupation, my gender, my income, and my girlfriend’s bra size. Each question was asked in the same robotic fashion as if it was perfectly normal for me to tell complete strangers all of my personal information.

So I have decided that the next time they call, and they will, I am going to be a thirty-three year old Eskimo who attends services weekly at a Mormon Temple. I encourage you to be equally creative. Support your candidate; just have fun with the demographics. If you plan to vote for Governor Romney, fine, but key in that you are a sixty year old African-American Muslim woman. If President Obama is your man, feel free to tell the pollsters that you are a twenty-five year old Evangelical male. Use your imagination.

The last thing we want to become is predictable. Utah is predictable. Sure the candidate’s TV ads are hideous and the Super PAC commercials libelous, but the only reason we get all of this attention is because they don’t know how we are going to vote. There are only eight to ten swing states. The rest, red or blue, are a foregone conclusion.

I don’t want to be taken for granted.  Just call me Nanook.