You Never Give Me Your Money

It was Gavin. Or more accurately, Gavin's people. They were calling. Calling all Saturday morning because, well, Gavin needed me. It was important that his people talk to me about what he needed from me.

I ignored the first couple of calls because the caller ID popped up with (999) 999-9999. Even early on Saturday morning, I could figure out that I don't know a soul in the 999 area code. But the calls kept coming and finally I answered.

"Hi, this is Lindsey from the Gavin Newsom for Mayor campaign and we're hoping that you can support Gavin," said the chipper, sweet female voice on the phone.

"Yeah, I've heard of him. He'll probably win," I replied in my usual Saturday morning non-chipper voice.

"Could we count on your support? Perhaps hosting a coffee at your home or distributing campaign literature or even a donation?"

I resisted the temptation to ask why the leading candidate who has $1.6 million in his war chest and no serious challengers, would bother to ask me for spare change. Instead, I just said, "I don't think so."

And that would have been that except...the Gavin Newsom for Mayor campaign continued to call me for the rest of the morning. Besides Lindsey, there was Monique, Justin, Trey, Kathi, and a few more. There were about seven calls before noon on Saturday. All from the mysterious 999 area code.

Now I understand that politics is a lot like warfare and in warfare, using overwhelming force is usually the way to win. I understand perfectly well that Patton was Patton cause he loved obliterating Nazi Panzer divisions more than doing anything else on a given Saturday morning. I guess Gavin's people are kind of like that, too. But seven calls? To me?


I'm even going to vote for the guy, which I told Lindsey and a few of the others, even though I don't think he's really mayoral material. My support is really based on the hot girlfriends he's had the last couple of years (why can't the girl in this photo call me? now that's a voice I might enjoy waking up to on Saturday morning). And support is support and a vote is a vote. Maybe Lindsey just forgot to write my name down on a post it note so that Kathi and Trey and the others would know they didn't have to call me?

Eventually, though, my natural optimism returned. At least Chris Daly's people weren't calling.