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October 30, 2008


So, I'm in my office where there is no phone.  The phone rings.  I haul ass through the house to answer (I'm expecting a call), and after tripping over my blind dog who always manages to find his way in front of me I answer with a breathless hello.  "This is John McCain with an important message...".  Click.  Introduce him to Mr.Dialtone.  I start doing something before I go back to my office, and of course set the phone down.  I settle in and start surfing, and lo and behold the phone rings again.  This time it's Obama's wife telling me what a wonderful husband and father he is.  Click.  Don't care.  Now it's senators, congressmen, local judges, county clerks, you name it calling my phone at all hours of the day.  Who sits and listens to this crap?  Seriously.  I would rather put a cigarette out in my eye and then pour bleach into it.  I might even take an ice-pick to my ears just to put myself out of my misery.  The FCC has banned telemarketers and even bill collectors to an extent.  So why do these arse holes get to call me instead.  Here's a hint gang: if I signed up for the National Do Not Call List, I don't want you to interrupt my time either.  To make matters worse my phone number used to belong to someone who wasn't able to pay their bills.  Just how many times do you have to say wrong number before they believe you?  Some of you out there may be bill collectors, everyone's gotta eat.  But do you get an Associates Degree in Bitch after your training?