Dear Barack, Hillary, and John--
First of all, I'm very flattered with all the attention I've received the past two weeks. We North Carolinians aren't used to this kind of adoration; the primaries are usually decided long before we cast our ballots. Thanks for making me feel special.
That said, we get it. The three of you are each hoping to be the next President of the United States. And I realize that our 115 delegates are the greatest prize of any remaining state.
But you know what? I think we've made up our minds by now. Maybe I'm just speaking for myself, but I know who I'm voting for on Tuesday. There's no need to continue criss-crossing the state looking for photo ops while preaching to your respective choirs. There's no need to blanket the television and radio with your ads as if there's someone out there who will suddenly say, "You know, I never liked Candidate B but that thirty-second spot during Two And A Half Men changed my mind!"
Couldn't this money be spent in better ways?
Please don't call my house anymore. While I've loved hearing from you three (although it seems every time I try to speak, you just keep talking like it was a recording or something), calling my house at noon on a Sunday just reeks of desperation. If any of you drunk dials my house late Monday night looking for a booty call last second vote, I'll be hanging up.
And even though gas prices are at an all-time high and I truly appreciate the offer, I don't need a ride to the polls on Tuesday. But if any of you are game for babysitting, please let me know.
Hugs & Kisses,
Chag
P.S. Um, John? What the hell are you even doing calling my house? You've got the Republican nomination wrapped up, dude. Take a vacation and just chill until you find out who your opponent is.
Song of the day: I'm In Love With A Girl by Big Star
So This Is What It's Like To Have A Vote That Matters
