Monday, September 17, 2007
Congratulations to National Review, you've hooked my Mommy
Regular readers (who I sometimes refer to as "all two of you") know that last March, I did some reporting from Conservative Political Action Conference, where, among other things, I saw Ann Coulter perform her magical act of tricks and treachery. I wasn't admitted into the conference with the benefit of a nom de plume, but given all the conservative mailing lists my name is on now, I'm considering purchasing a new identity to use for the next political conference I attend. (Though some of the email I receive is unintentionally hilarious. Today, I got an email from that 105 year old vampie Roberk Novak with the subject, "Last chance to see Karl Rove in person." It's my last chance? Does this mean that Rove going to have a heartattack soon? Awesome!)
Besides 20-30 emails per day, conservative groups also send mail to my parents' house, which was the address I used at the time I signed up for CPAC. I'll get mail from the Young America Foundation telling me to goto their conferences (quite a tempting offer for a budding journalist hunting for tasty stories; alas, I don't have the time or resources to attend), yadda yadda. But since I've moved off to college, I've been pleasantly distant from that deluge of Republican tripe.
Fortunately for the senders, though, somebody else is enjoying it.
I talked with my Mom yesterday and she told me this strange magazine named "National Review" was sent to me, but she couldn't believe that it was mine. She had never heard of the magazine before, but she read it and knew that it's something I would never, ever subscribe to. And she knows this because she likes it too much.
I'm tempted to give her a subscription for Christmas, but I fear the reprisal in the form of a lightening bolt from the leftwing gods if I forked over a penny to Doughy Pantload. Besides, I'm sure they'll try to send another magazine my way regardless. Thank gawd I forgot to fill out a change of address card.
Besides 20-30 emails per day, conservative groups also send mail to my parents' house, which was the address I used at the time I signed up for CPAC. I'll get mail from the Young America Foundation telling me to goto their conferences (quite a tempting offer for a budding journalist hunting for tasty stories; alas, I don't have the time or resources to attend), yadda yadda. But since I've moved off to college, I've been pleasantly distant from that deluge of Republican tripe.
Fortunately for the senders, though, somebody else is enjoying it.
I talked with my Mom yesterday and she told me this strange magazine named "National Review" was sent to me, but she couldn't believe that it was mine. She had never heard of the magazine before, but she read it and knew that it's something I would never, ever subscribe to. And she knows this because she likes it too much.
I'm tempted to give her a subscription for Christmas, but I fear the reprisal in the form of a lightening bolt from the leftwing gods if I forked over a penny to Doughy Pantload. Besides, I'm sure they'll try to send another magazine my way regardless. Thank gawd I forgot to fill out a change of address card.
Labels: life
tas, 1:41 PM
