Political people, please don't "hawk" me at the fair. I'll gladly walk up to your booths and get free pens, stickers, frisbees, pins and whatnot, but if I'm just walking past, it's because I want to just walk past.
Wednesday evening my wife and I were just walking past a particular booth and were greeted aggressively by a smiling representative of a political movement.
Joyce and I had been over at the market livestock show, which was fun, especially watching the little kids run after the lambs and hogs in the arena, unsure, it seemed, who was exhibiting whom.
But our workday had started at 7 a.m. and it was now after 8 p.m. A hog who enjoyed running over the photographer more than getting his picture taken had me about worn out. It was hotter'n Hades. I admit to being a little cranky.
Now, I like a good political debate as much as the next guy, but there's a time and a place. The gentleman who accosted us believed that after eight on Wednesday night was the time and on the way to the parking lot was the place.
I shall disguise the name of the political movement in this column because I don't wish to be rude or embarrass anyone.
"Sir, have you heard of the Ea-tay Arty-pay?" the gentleman asked me.
Instantly, I weighed my options. "No" would bring an explanation, and "yes" might signify some kind of interest or support.
I had a flash of inspiration.
"We're Democrats!" I cried.
It's not necessarily true, but I figured the fellow might just make the sign of the cross and retreat. Not so.
"We have many Democrats involved," the gentleman said without batting an eye. We were almost past him at this point, so politeness forced me to either stop or begin walking backwards away from him. The latter option allowed me to put some distance between us without rudely turning away, so I gracefully executed the pirouette, managing not to fall down.
"Huh," I commented.
"Um, your platform's pretty conservative, though," I said.
Five feet away now. Seven.
The gentleman admitted that was true. Ten feet.
I said, "That's not really ..."
"Your cup of ea-tay?" the man said, smiling. Oh, he was good. Eighteen feet.
We passed out of earshot and escaped. The key is to keep walking, even backwards if you have to.
***
I don't mean to complain, but it drives me crazy the way some people need to soften their gripes by saying something positive before getting to the mean part.
"I like that John, but he sure is hard to get along with."
"That Mary's a sweetheart, but she ain't the sharpest knife in the drawer."
They self-deprecatingly do the same thing with "I'm no (whatever), but "
For example: "I'm no carpenter, but that wall sure looks out of plumb by about an inch."
"I never claimed to be a great editor, but even I can tell that word ain't spelled exactly right."
These linguistic mannerisms are wasteful of breath and a little fraidy-cattish.
I admit I do it as much as anyone. It smears a gooey politeness and/or humility onto the mean thing I'm saying, I guess.
It would be more efficient to just say, "John's a jerk, Mary's stupid, Roy can't build, and Hector can't spell."
You can do the linguistic gymnastics backwards too: "I can't stand that John, but he sure is a friendly fella."
"Mary's ugly as a frog, but she'd give you the shirt off her back."
That's covering something positive with a veneer of gooey spitefulness, I guess.
It might be fun to try doing it on purpose and see if anybody notices.
"Boss, that's got to be the dumbest thing you ever did, but I like your shoes."
"Honey, that dinner like to made me puke, but you sure got pretty eyes."
I'll work on that this week and let you know how it comes out.
Ken York's column appears in The Daily Record, Lebanon, Mo. It is reprinted here with permission.
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