The survey says…

Tonight as I was beginning dinner (baked flounder smothered in a mix of roasted corn, red and green bell pepper, with steamed fresh asparagus on the side, and a tossed salad, for those who stalk Tim), I received a phone call. Here’s how it went:

Him: Good evening, ma’am. Would you have time to answer a survey prepared by mumble mumble mumble.
Me: I’m sorry, what did you say the survey is about?
Him: I’m really not sure. This is my first call tonight, and I don’t know the questions yet.
Me thinking, wow, no one must be recording this call: Sure.
Him: First question. Do you or any member of your family work for the government or for a political mumble mumble or in a political mumble mumble.
THEN HE BELCHED!!
Me nope, definitely not being monitored: No.
Him: For purposes of location only, could you give me your zip code?

I provided it, and he read it back to me incorrectly. So I repeated it to make sure he had it right.

Him: Okay, that’s all the questions I have for you tonight.
Click.

WTF? Is it because in a vividly red state, I live in a zip code that bleeds blue? Do they only want answers to their survey that will support their agenda? What the hell is their agenda? Did they automatically assume I was going to say, “Hell, yes, I believe ANYONE should have the right to marry. I think the Patriot Act sucks. People should be able to decide for themselves when their quality of life is such that they want to check out. Bush is lying about the amount of aid we’re giving Africa. Well, really, Bush is lying about everything; it’s pathological with him. And if I believed in heaven, which I don’t, I’d have a very different view of who’s got an open ticket for admission.”

There is one satisfying thing about this. A ninety-two year old widow a few blocks away has a picture of George and Laura on her desk. Her zip code is the same as mine, so she won’t get to answer either.