I made a few calls last night or very early this morning. It had been welling up in my mind for some time now, but the direct attack…the attempt at a face off went like this…
The idea developed in my kitchen…the war room. I was drinking beers and listening to music with one of my top advisors, which can be a terribly dangerous thing to do. The last time we had done this – 6 days ago – we got into a bare knuckle boxing match that left me with bruised ribs and knuckles and tenderized the left side of my face. Even now, a week later, sleeping on it is very painful. Last night was very different though – it was Ivy Day in the Committee Room – there was more action, but probably less Guinness. “Best if Served Cold,” the bottles said, and they were right.
“I’m going to call the bastard,” I said, “get me the number.”
My advisor got the numbers off the Answer Machine – my laptop computer – and as he read them off, I dialed them on the speakerphone. I called the main office chamber of Senator Rick Santorum and called him a “Cocksucker” to some of his closest allies and explained that if he had any balls at all, he would return my call. I left my cell number, my office number and my first, last and middle name. I stopped short of offering him my complete address…but I figured he would figure that out for himself, and I almost expect 6 or 7 storm troopers to be waiting there for me when I return.
I made some ugly insults and threw some powerful stink bombs into the lions den. I left several messages, none of them subtle. In retrospect, it was probably a little too brazen. Or too stupid. But my blood always gets stirred during the political season.
I then said, “Fuck it…let’s get Casey’s people on the phone…see if they need our help.” But it was somewhere between 3 and 4am and I knew that this was an impossibility. But we left several messages for the Casey camp…I explained some of my recent campaign techniques and offered my assistance, in any way he thought I’d be useful. I don’t expect a call.
I called the mayoral offices of 4 or 5 of the larger cities throughout the state – ‘why not reach out to them too,’ I thought – maximize productivity.
At 8:15am, the Altoona mayor’s office called me. I didn’t take the call. It was too early for me to talk politics…I had just woken up. And quite honestly, my first thought at that point…when I saw that 814 number pop up on my phone was, ‘dear god…what poor son of a bitch is that…what have I done!” It seemed like a very foolish idea – even while I was doing it. But I was riding high on adrenaline and there was no talking me out of it. “Don’t leave your office number,” my advisor said…”especially not with the Santorum people.” But I did it anyway. The first time because I wasn’t thinking quickly and after that because I wanted them to know I was serious…not just another geek wanking off behind the curtains.
At any rate, I returned to the war room for a final cigarette and sat down by the window to wind down the evening. “Well, I thought…I just started a war with a US Senator.” That thought may have been a tad megalomaniacal, but it was late…and I was still reeling from the beers and the adrenaline.
