As I dumpster dive through the post office recycling box this election season, I note a curious thing. Although the glossy political flyers have been sliding in fast and thick, I haven’t seen a single one sent by a candidate him- or herself or by a “Committee to Elect …” a candidate. It’s all been from PACS. And nearly all against somebody, not for anybody.
In many races, even big ones, there’s been not a single bit of mail. But oddly, in one state-house brawl that I’d have considered quite obscure, the flyers have been … well, flying. On many days, two arrive: one demonstrating that the D. candidate is Satan incarnate; the other demonstrating that the R. candidate is Satan incarnate. (And given the evidence, I’m prepared to believe Satan now has two avatars on earth and they both live in my legislative district — except the one who might not actually live in the district she wants to represent, but that’s another story.) A day or two later, different flyers, same Thou Art Satan messages.
I assume, though I haven’t bothered to check, that TPTB think this race could affect the balance of power in the state legislature. Otherwise, nobody would care about a contest in this tiny corner. But care they do — and now to the point of desperation.
The last flyer I spotted from the “R is the Devil” PAC says we can’t, simply can’t, choose Candidate R because he’s so extreme that he actually — if you can believe this! — made some libertarian noises back in the noughties. (I may faint.)
The latest flyer from the “D is the Devil” PAC — a PAC that is so solidly Republican that its name is something like (I paraphrase) The Holy Church of St. Ronald Reagan — actually printed pictures of every other legislator or legislative candidate in the district, Rs and Ds both, and said, “ALL these people share our values, but old Satan Herself over there on the other side of the page will (again I paraphrase) torture your puppies, take your guns, and personally come to your house to confiscate all your income.”
Not quite as entertaining as Hillary’s Weiner, but way more drama than we’re used to hereabouts.
One of the local towns had a small preparedness fair recently. To my surprise it was actually pretty good and decently attended. Most of the information tables and displays were government: local police, sheriffs, and fire department; local emergency-management agency; local CERT; state tsunami-awareness PR guy; things like that. But there were several private organizations with informational booths and a handful of private vendors.
A search & rescue team had a dog as well as one of the most interesting displays of bare-bones survival gear. Someone was selling Thrive Life foods (too bad they’re mainly sold only via MLM because they’re super high quality). Another vendor had an enormous spread of various gear, from custom ESEE knives to paracord. He was selling the items individually or in kits. Very expensive kits. The basic one was over $300, the deluxe around $500.
As soon as I walked up, he recognized that my great big purse wasn’t a great big purse at all, but was a “get home bag.” And a Maxpedition bag, to boot. I was pretty impressed. Only one other person has appeared to notice. Or maybe it’s just that everybody else has been too polite to comment on the fact that I have flashlights, binoculars, and water bottles dangling from me all the time.
The vendor’s packs were all Maxpedition, too, which partially accounted for their priciness. Mine’s much smaller than anything he had, but we compared notes on how much we like Maxpedition (pockets! features! configuration! durability!). He showed me one he’s been carrying everywhere for six years. Still looked brand new. (Yes, that’s another Maxpedition plug, but it’s also the truth. Don’t strand yourself with a go-bag built around some $15 kiddie backpack that’ll fall apart just when you need it. Great gift item for a prepper or outdoorsperson, too.)
And that’s about it, other than the fact that I’m putting two Amazon native ads below today to make up for lost time with this morning’s glitches (12% commission all through November on purchases made through the ads!).
Oh, and the UPS man stopped at my house yesterday. Not to deliver a package. He didn’t have anything for me. He stopped solely to deliver a couple of Milk Bones to Ava, who is beginning to love that Brown Truck O’ Dreams.
Only in a small town …