In Which I Annoy Bart Stupak (and Wind Up Number One Recommeded Diary at Daily Kos)
I think they’re having a bad day at Bart Stupid’s Stupak’s DC office.
I called to inquire about whether the amendment forces women with dead fetuses to carry to term, but the minute I got the word “Stupak Amendment” out of my mouth, the woman who answered the phone began screaming at me at the top of her lungs and slammed down the receiver. I didn’t even get a chance to say anything, never mind all the yelling she was accusing me of doing.
So I called back and asked her why she was screaming. She answered by screaming some more. I felt like one of those suicide counselors who have to talk people in from the ledge. The woman had clearly been having a rough day, and expected anyone who called to yell at her about her shitty boss’s disdain for women. I kinda felt bad: it’s not her fault Bart Stupak is a walking colostomy bag who hates women, and who hides behind poorly-paid interns that answer the phone and may not even agree with his idiotic beliefs.
So I said “Look, I just have a question, I am getting conflicting information on the bill”.
“Well, I can’t answer that,” she screamed at me. She didn’t have any other way of communicating, it seemed. “You’ll have to talk to the legislative aide”.
“Well then put me through,” I sighed. jesus fuckin’ christ, it’s not that hard to pass the buck, I thought ruefully.
“I can’t,” she said. “Um, that… that person’s not here.” from the tone of her voice, this sounded a lot like a lie, but I pressed on.
“Well, then transfer me to voicemail,” I said.
“No, I have too many people on hold.” This was definitely a crock of shit, as anyone who’s ever worked in an office with a phone/voicemail system can tell you. When someone mistakenly calls my extension at work, it takes 2 seconds to transfer them to the correct line, and it doesn’t prevent others from reaching me when I do so.
“OK,” I said, “I’ll call back later.”
“Yes,” she replied, “5:30 would be a great time.”
The office closes, of course, at 5:00. Nice try, epic fail, I’m calling back throughout the day.
So should you: 202-225-4735.
This post was originally written as a comment at firedoglake. A reader there saw it, posted it to dailykos, where it shot up to the top of the recommended diaries list. HAHAHA on Stupak’s stooges.
Ask Stupak (that number again: 202-225-4735) if he’s got investments in the wire coat-hanger industry, and why he wants women to carry dead and/or deformed babies to term.
And remember: Stupak means “sepsis”.
November 9th, 2009 at 8:03 pm
Where’d Frenchy LaMour come from?
November 9th, 2009 at 10:53 pm
remember back in the olden days of interblogging when everyon ehad fake names like “Mithras” and “Atrios” and “Tacitus”?
Mine was Frenchy Lamour. I forget how I came up with it, but it still makes me laugh.
Every once in awhile I use “Duke L’Orange” too.