There’s a reasonable explanation for why the hair on the right side of my head is a bit singed.

And it is SO not my fault.

I was minding my own business doing data entry at campaign headquarters.  They’re a bit cramped for space and everyone does their work in what amounts to a “space that has a chair.”

The guy next to me was calling registered voters to see if they had decided who they were voting for in the presidential election. 

We’ll call him “Joe” since that seems to be the most popular name this election season.  I don’t know if you caught this but both Sarah Palin and John McCain have publically referred to vice presidential candidate Joe Biden as “Joe O’Biden.”  Yes, those two plucky Irish lads, O’Biden and O’Bama, are a fine pair of charismatic shamrocks.

The “Joe” next to me was a natural campaign phone caller.  A retired college professor, he engaged each and every caller and was so charming and persuasive, he even convinced a recent Chinese immigrant that her vote was not only important to Barack Obama, it was important to Joe.  And then he thanked her.  In Chinese.

Really.

He told a young man how to get a ballot in a county on the other side of the state.  He told him the address, who to contact and would have probably given him directions if the guy had asked. 

One responder made the mistake of telling Joe he did not plan to vote.  Joe was furious.  “DO YOU KNOW PEOPLE DIED SO YOU COULD VOTE?”  I told the other people around me, “Any time now he’s going to start naming them.”

Joe spoke in all caps even when he was thanking someone in Chinese so you can imagine how loud he got when he was upset.

But then came The Call.  The Call that will go down in the annals of Bend, Oregon campaign history. 

Joe asked the voter who he would be voting for.  The guy told him but apparently used offensive language to explain why he would, in no uncertain terms, never want an individual of a certain race anywhere near The White House.

I say “apparently” because I could not hear the other side of the conversation.  I only heard Joe’s end as he was sitting on my right but I believe he could have also been heard across the street.

“ARE YOU PROUD OF YOURSELF FOR BEING RACIST?”  My hair actually blew back from the sudden air disturbance.

“YES, YOU ARE A RACIST YOU…” and then Joe called the man a name that insulted his mother who had not been previously mentioned but Joe felt the name he called him was the strongest insult he could use in mixed company.

“HOW DARE YOU CALL A FELLOW CITIZEN A NAME LIKE THAT?”  Joe was hitting the groove.  “YES, YOU ARE A RACIST WHEN YOU CALL SOMEONE A ****** YOU RACIST *** ** * *****.” 

The discussion continued along these lines for another minute and a half, at least, and by that time my hair and parts of my right ear were going tingly and beginning to smoke. 

Finally, Joe slammed down the phone with enough force to make me mistype.  The volunteer coordinators raced over and told Joe in anxious whispers that he was scaring the other phone callers.  Joe decided it would be a good time to move his car because of the two-hour parking limit downtown and he returned considerably calmer but no less enthusiastic. 

My kids were so enthralled by this story they immediately asked to adopt Joe and began fighting over who would get to take him to school for Show and Tell even though they are both in high school and Show and Tell in high school has a completely different definition than it did in elementary school.

The campaigns are now in their Last Days and I am pleading with those of you who may receive phone calls inquiring about your vote.  Please, be polite and if you do not wish to answer, please indicate your preference in a civil tone.

For the love of God people, I only have one half of my hair left.