Hello, could-be Senator Art Graham! Let me introduce you to my door. SLAM!

You know that T-Mobile commercial? The one that shows the executives attempting to make contact with their customers only to have their customers turn on them by spraying them with the gardening hose or hiding in the dark corners of their own homes? It's been like that around here but with politicians instead of...well, anyone else, really.

Things have been so crazy here in Florida with this campaign to fill the Senate seat (and oodles of thanks goes out to Mel Martinez for leaving his position in the middle of what could have been considered a campaign-free and enjoyably quiet summer after the mayhem of Obamafying everything last year). Our craziness includes political mailbox stuffers, door hangers, newspaper inserts, and our family's unfortunate verbal attacks on the poor souls who decide to call our house during the last 10 minutes of Top Chef or Hell's Kitchen, which means to say our phone rings incessantly between 8:30-9:00 at night.

My father has decided to answer the phone and make funny noises, like the loolooloolooloolooloolooloo salute that Spongebob Squarepants sometimes gives. Brian, my oldest brother, was visiting from South Carolina when he answered our phone and told the caller that the person he wished to speak with "is no longer with us." My mother and I have decided to just be rude. It's part of my character, anyway, so it's not like having fun with the telephone campaigners takes too much out of my creativity pool. After two late night phone calls last night, I decided I'd had it. The next campaigner was going to pay for all the grief my family has put up with over the last few weeks.

My morning started off with a request for my yummy chocolate & powdered sugar french toast and after eating breakfast, I immediately jumped in the shower. I might have been out of the shower for 10 minutes when the knock on the door prompted my dachsund to bark himself senseless and ignore threats of "pulling your tongue out through your ass if you don't shut up!". It's a favorite of my father's. Anyway, I quieted the dog (very nicely, I promise) and opened the door. On the other side was a man and a woman holding campaign cards and eyeing the "No Solicitors" sign located just above the doorknocker.

Strange man at my door: "Hi! My name is (blah blah blah, I wasn't listening) and I'm running for (blah blah blah, I'm still not listening). I'd like to encourage you to go to the polls and vote for me."

Me: "Yeah, thanks. It's kind of early."

Door: SLAM!!!!

Then I looked at the flyer. That was Art Graham at my front door. Ah...dammit. I just slammed my front door in the face of a could-be Senator. One of the front-runners, for that matter. And my father admitted to me that he is voting for him. This made me want to run down the street and apologize to the guy. Or at least bring him back to my house so my dad could meet him and explain to him that I'm not grouchy 24/7 and if he'd brought some Starbucks for me, I'd listen to anything he had to say. But I didn't.

Instead, I took it out on the next campaigner who came knocking on my door not even a half-hour later!

Strange woman at my door: "Hi! I hope I'm not considered a solicitor (giggle!)."

Me: "Yeah, you are (giggle!)."

Door: SLAM!!!!

Ohhhh-bama

Did Obama really say that?

Wait a minute...where's the ACLU? Why isn't this the top story on the evening news? (Well, I know it isn't the top story here in Jacksonville because the local newscasts always open with somebody having been shot and killed on the Northside. Tonight's count: only 1, so far!) If I was joking that I'd only bowled a score of 129, I wouldn't compare it to the Special Olympics. I would flat out admit that it's because I'm not as good as I thought I was.

Face it, Barack. That was one jacked-up comment.

And here's something else that's pretty jacked-up: How you plan to take care of the men and women who are taking care of you. You know those security police officers who stand at the foot of the steps of Air Force One? They are there to take a bullet for you. You know those 18-year-old kids you promised the world to and then shipped them off to get their legs blown up and amputated? They are there to take a bullet for you. You remember those men and women who came back from Vietnam when you were a wee young lad living in another country, only to be spat upon by an ungrateful nation? Tens of thousands didn't come home to get spat upon because they died taking a bullet for you. And now you want to take away their healthcare, too?

Hmmm, I got off on a tangent, but now that I think about it, the soldiers returning home with untreated traumatic brain injuries and PTSD could possibly lead to an increase in numbers for the Special Olympics army.

So, President Obama, I suggest you keep your lame jokes about the Special Olympics to yourself. As you are probably aware, we are fighting a bloody war on terrorism in Afghanistan. This is a country that, as a whole, feels the hopelessness of its daily existence by constantly being interrupted with explosions and pesky reports of mass death. The Special Olympics organization has been doing some wonderful work with disabled persons in Afghanistan. Most of the Middle East already thinks America is a country full of warmongering assholes. The Special Olympics has, at least in some way, helped reshape their thinking, especially in the country of Afghanistan, by converting their awful bowling scores into super-awesome-hero powers to be used for the good of mankind, instead of making fun of people who can't bowl.

Basically, you work for us, Mr. President. If you were just some guy who worked at the local hardware store and made a stupid comment like that, you would have very easily been fired. And if you really want to get into the business of taking away VA benefits, I think we should all sit down and talk about how great the healthcare system is for our elected officials. Sacrifices, sacrifices. Isn't that right?

But first, you should know that here's this guy named Myles Barman who bowled a 14-game average of 132. So, no...your bowling skills are not comparable to the Special Olympics. There's at least one guy from Plano, Texas, who is better than you. Just this week, he met with his state's Representatives in the hopes of securing Congressional funds for the organization.

I think an apology is in order. As well as a major push for some serious funding.

UPDATE: Thank you, Fox News. I knew I could count on you, seeing as it is now the morning after I added this blog post and Obama's bowling score is front page news on foxnews.com. Thank you.