True story?

I canvass in a heavily Republican county in North Florida, and haven't heard that one yet...pretty hysterical, though.

Yesterday I walked up to a house- male, 50-ish, white, No Party Affiliation. He was in the driveway cleaning his barbecue grill with a hose. When I asked him who he was voting for, he answered in a southern drawl "who do y'all think I'm voting for...Obama!"

Some Barack canvassers were in my neighborhood Sunday. They knocked and spoke with us even though there is already an Obama sign in the yard, one on my bumper next to my NRA sticker, and one on my wife's car.

The canvassers were a black family of four. The two girls (about ten and twelve) were obviously excited and energetic.

The mother told me of their canvassing in Western North Carolina (I live in the Piedmont of NC). She spoke of walking down a country driveway in a trailer park that brought to mind the movie "Deliverance". She had expected to find a dead deer on the hood of a pickup truck in the driveway.

She said that when she knocked a guy that came to the door wearing overalls without a shirt and "conformed to every stereotype of a white, racist southern redneck." I want to note at this point that I am a middle-aged white guy, a stranger to her and she was standing on my front porch in a very white neighborhood. I am educated, but thoroughly a southerner...most people just assume I am Republican--I'm not, but I sure look it.

Anyway, she said that when she started to speak to Mr. Overalls (my term) about Obama, he stopped her and said "I've already voted for him." She said another man got up and came to the door, also looking every inch the redneck, saying he had already voted for Obama, too. She said he was obviously enthusiastic about his vote. He brought drinks to her and her family and invited them in to talk some more.

She told me that her internalized stereotypes were shattered on the spot. I found it brave and open of her to speak outright of what most of us deny even to ourselves about our stereotypes of others. A new conversation is emerging in which no fingers are pointed and blame is not assigned. It is a conversation that invites everyone in, acknowledges our faults and humanness and opens a door for new choices.

Do I think change is in the air? You betcha.

I was canvassing down here in Tampa through a trailer park. I had a system down pat - and I have one of those "aw shucks" faces that people usually don't get mad at.

Yes, people like me because I'm good enough, I'm smart enough or - something.

Anyway, I mention that I'm a volunteer with Obama to the lady who answers the door. Inside the house, a guy is sitting on the couch as he starts yelling "Get off my porch!" Giant mustache, baseball cap, wife beater shirt, and I could smell the beer from the doorstep.

The lady closed the door behind her. "Don't you worry about him," she told me. "Now, who were you with?"

"I'm John Hummel, and I'm a volunteer for Senator Obama. Do you know where to vote?"

All the time, the guy inside keeps shouting. "Get out of here!" The door opens, and two little dogs roll out of the house and start licking my toes. "That's right, sic him! Sic him!"

The lady smiles at me. "Oh, you're with Obama. Just ignore my brother - he lives here with me and is a McCain supporter, but I'm an Obama supporter for sure!"

Inside, her brother was shouting "Ask him if he needs a ride home! I'll drive him home, sure!" I was waiting for the banjos to start playing.

I gave her the early voting information, shook her hand, and went to go. But the best part as I was walking away, I gave a wave to the gentleman. "Have a good evening, sir!" I called out.

As I stepped away, I could hear the sister slam the door and start shouting at her brother, "You know - you're not registered to vote and I am, so it don't matter what you think about Obama, because you were too lazy to register and have a say!"

It made the rest of my trek that day so much easier.

ays are so wild it's being so tired one can't sleep. After this giggle-snort readits gonna be another long night. Vote for the nigg/? brilliant. The stingy right-wing stork a.n.t. any more revered as holy.

Your K.K. drawl.

It's a lazy accent.

good slang, drawn long 'dralen' and readers stay lingering, looking, and away goes confusion.

Nigg/? niggard. And no racial inflamed characters. Rural. Hill Billy, good old goats, buzzards, and sketches are big neck, open wide mouths Marabou's. Holy Marabou Stork, big pouches, ank a good nature, fair punch K.O.

OOO-kay! hat a knock out. K.O.

OOO- my O day, o th mind goes way out there seeing stars.

Bill Bud, White Jacket, and Moby Dick, a big whale, giggles snorts. Melville? fuller? a brush salesman knocking, Knock Knock Knock, `Who we voting for `the nigg/. niggard. Kayos. Knock Out.

~

OOO-kay. The GOP are stingy. scavengers. Maybe a reader could think Melvillle Fuller?

That Hague Judge Arbitrator who plaid fair and gather info. to haul loan-sharks, smelly fish gone bad, a politico for Hague style trials? Melville Fuller wasn't a fuller pig bristle, fuller brush door salesman. Knock. K.O. comic IMO. The GOP has long been a carnivore scavenger.

The proverbial stingy hyena. HYENA. art g. @ G.G. may say`ho ho hee hee heehaw. silly. Oh good goof. word root (no archaic. ho hee) "huaina - hus" means 'pig' nature in a human that's mane looks like hog bristles. huh. OOO-kay. yes fun.

OOO-kay. The Lady was Mary Magdalene? huh, no ho.

The knocker at a door, in our neo-con-age, prez-hope.

Who is B.O. Knock Knock. K.K. gets a K.O. OOO-kay. huh.

I intentionally beg to see more than is there, okay, but art.

Who knows what Keith intended, and Keith may wonder. yes and no, year in and year out. living in a bungalow. I love your drawings/sketches. rich. and no nigg/ the offensive word/.

She is critter KK dreams of kissing? Smooch, be confused? O no. now sleep will never come.

Mary was a kisser. A door knocker smooched repeatedly. Okay. okaying, and one agreeable?

Smooching lips over and over, repeatedly. and richer too. Yeah! OO-kay, and wishing assent.

OO-kay, O pass on KK's message. Good night, Keith Knight. betcha. People loathe neocons.