From this point onward, I must forbid anyone at this site or elsewhere from lumping all Republicans into the category of country-club-hopping, sheet-wearing, cross-burning, environmentalist-trashing, Jesus-Nazis who don’t read the Bible or anything else.  Because my sister and her husband, the ones we stayed with in Ohio (right, the swing state — THAT Ohio), were the nicest people in the world to me and Kam [AKA the Professor and the Pit Bull] while we were there.  Campaigning.  To defeat their candidate in the presidential election.

In fact, they invited us.

They have raised the bar for decent human behavior in . . .

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Pennsylbama.   Floribama.  Virginiabama.  Coloradobama.  New Mexicobama.  Iowabama.

Thanks to the 12apostophes contingent, Minnesotabama.

Thanks to Kam and me, Ohiobama. We’ll tell you how we did it when we recover from pounding the pavement.  We’re going to recover by some intensive interval-type shopping.
Looks like there might also be a North Carolinabama and Indianabama.

I’ve decided to rename a red state, too.  In honor of its achievements in the preservation of openly expressed racism against blacks — here’s the results of a survey of Kentuckians conducted by my local newspaper:

http://www.kentucky.com/news/state/story/568306.html

Excerpt: A survey of 600 likely Kentucky . . .

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VOTE!

That was for everybody.

Minneapolis readers: Wonder which “Soil and water supervisor Seat 3” you should give your vote to this year?

Check out the StarTribune’s “My Vote” site: entering your address will give you your polling location and a sample ballot — so you can research all the ins and outs of the less-contested seats. Check it out here.

My friend Angela and I went canvassing for Obama today in NE Minneapolis.

You may have encountered this from the other side of the door; somebody rings your bell on a Sunday while you’re trying to enjoy the ballgame, a guy standing there with three political buttons and a stack of papers, and asks you to vote his way. Today, that was me.

I got a lot of unanswered knocks, which is usual for this sort of thing. I got a lot of dismissive waves and “not interested”s, which is not unusual, although I didn’t think I was selling anything . . .

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One of the advantages of living in the Jersey suburbs with your sixty-three year old retired father is that you get to perform all manner of menial tasks in a futile attempt to mitigate his desire to prevent idle hands from lingering about. (It’s worth pointing out that my Internet traffic in recent weeks undoubtedly proves just how Sisyphean his task really is.) Yesterday it was shampooing urine stains left by my now deceased geriatric dog out of the carpet in our living room. Today it was blowing the leaves on my front lawn as my uber-conservative neighbor pounded cold . . .

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