His wife's mouth stopped in mid chew as she watched him get up, walk across the kitchen and pick up the receiver. She tried to remember the last time she witnessed her husband using the phone, never mind answering it.
"Uh, Mr. Abbott?"
"Umm, well, .... Are you the Mr. Abbott on Sam Page Road in Acton, Maine?"
"Well Mr Abbott, my name is Henry. I work for Rasmussen Reports, a polling company. I would like to ask you a question or two. Would that be okay Mr. Abbott?"
Great. Now this is just a poll; an effort to get a handle how Americans feel about one of the many burning issues of the day. We have no leaning one way or the other, though some folks on the Left feel we do. Believe me sir, we are searching for how people truly believe. Our questions are never loaded, okay? ........... Uh, Mr. Abbott? ,,,,,,,, Do you understand? ....... Are you still there?"
"So let's get started, okay?"
Abbott's wife's eyebrows lifted. She stopped chewing again and leaned forward.
"Well sir, just three questions. Ready?'
His wife relaxed, sat back and began chewing her bite of pork chop again.
"Question one is: Do you agree or disagree with this statement -
"It's okay to be White?"
Nothing. Mr. Abbott looked up at the ceiling.Time passed, still nothing.
"Uh, Mr. Abbott, did you hear the question?"
"Well? Is it okay to be white?"
"Yeah, I guess."
The wife again paused her repast and watched Mr Abbott closely.
"Mr Abbott, saying you guess it's okay is not the answer we are looking for. It either is okay or it isn't okay to be White. Understand?"
Silence again and time passed.
"Well Mr Abbott, what is your answer? Is it okay to be White?"
More silence followed by an exasperated sigh from Henry, the poll taker.
"Mr Abbott, I am going to mark you down as agreeing it is okay to be White, okay?"
By now, Abbott's wife was getting antsy. She had no clue who her husband was talking to or what they were talking about. She stopped eating and focused on her husband.
"Okay now Mr. Abbott, here is the next question. Ready?"
"Right. Next question: Do you agree or disagree with this statement-
Black people can be racist too.
"Sure, why not?"
Look here Mr Abbott, I uh ........... I will mark that down as an affirmative. You agree Black people can be racist. Okay?
"Well wonderful Mr. Abbott. We are down to the last question. Okay?"
Mrs Abbott now has her head on her hands, watching Mr. Abbott intently and trying to figure out if he is playing or having a serious conversation.
"Mr Abbott, so that we can assign your answers to the appropriate racial identity, we would like to ask you what race you identify as your race, okay?"
"What Race I identify with? ...... That is what you want to know?"
Mrs. Abbott's eye grew wide. "Uh oh," she thought, "Here we go."
"Uh, well yes Mr. Abbott, what race are you?"
Mr Abbott pulled the receiver from his ear and looked at it for a moment.
A weak voice came out of the phone. " Mr Abbott, are you still..... Mr Abbott brought the phone back to his ear and screamed into it, " The Human Race, you asshole! I belong and identify with the Human Race."
He then gently and without further comment, hung the phone up, taking the time to make sure there were no tangles in the cord.
And there you have it......... What was on my mind this morning. I fucking hate the stupidity of the poorly contrived efforts to drive a narrative to a foregone conclusion by biased polling outfits. Rasmussen does it all the time. This is a Rasmussen poll from Feb. 12-15, this year.
Rather than blow a gasket, I decided to have fun with it and tried to imagine a man who has had it with the stupidity swirling around him everywhere he looks.
Anyway, it was fun to write it. Hope some of you enjoyed it.
Keep it 'tween the ditches ..................................
First I Googled, "Songs about using the phone". Then I tried, "Songs about surveys and polls". Back to songs about phones.
The band Poison was never, ever on my hit list. But in the 1980s someone liked them. Anyway while I was Googling, their tune, "Talk Dirty to Me", popped up. After I played it once, which was more than enough, I decided that the title alone warranted an inclusion with this post. And then there was the added benefit of reminding me of what I did not miss back in the 1980s, the decade of the Hair Band.