If you didn’t already know, election season is here. There are primaries next month, and then the big midterms where, quite literally, the future of the country hangs in the balance.
For me, I follow politics about as closely as I follow the Royals season this year. “Oh, they lost again?” Welp, let’s see what’s on Netflix.
But for the umpteenth election cycle in a row, the biggest winners are spam text companies sending unwanted texts to your phone.
This has always been an option for scammers, and telemarketers, but it’s gotten so pervasive with elections.
“Hi! I’m Billy John, and I want you to know as YOUR Trash Collector, I’ll fight Washington DC and drain the swamp! (Into another swamp.) Won’t you help me? Click here to donate $4.68 to my campaign!”
Again and again and again, every county collector, state representative, or budding sheriff somehow finds your phone number to text.
It used to be easy to just bundle up those flyers in the mailbox and deposit them quickly, but these text messages really seem to rub me the wrong way.
Maybe it’s because the mailbox flyers had the decency to stay outside the house. They loitered by the curb, waiting patiently, and I could deal with them on my own terms. But these texts? They march right into my pocket, buzzing during dinner, interrupting my afternoon nap, popping up while I’m trying to figure out if the meat in the fridge is still good or is going to be the latest explosive diarrhea candidate.
There’s something deeply personal about a phone. It’s where my family texts me. It’s where my buddies send me inappropriate memes. And now it’s where Billy John the aspiring trash collector wants to talk to me about the swamp.
So I did what any reasonable, patriotic citizen would do. I texted back.
“STOP,” I typed, because that’s what the fine print always tells you to do.
And do you know what happened? Nothing. Or rather, worse than nothing. Because apparently texting “STOP” to one number simply tells the entire universe of political spammers that my number is alive, active, and belongs to a person who reads texts. It’s like waving a steak in front of a pack of hungry dogs and shouting, “Please don’t eat me!”
The floodgates opened. Suddenly I was hearing from candidates I’d never heard of, running for offices I didn’t know existed, in districts I’m fairly sure aren’t even mine. A woman named Sharon wanted to reform the Arkansas water board. A fellow named Chad was “the ONLY conservative choice” for something called the sewer commission. I began to wonder if my area had more elected positions than actual residents.
By the third day, I stopped fighting it. I decided, instead, to have a little fun.
“U up? Wanna come over for a nightcap?” I texted my council member from their spam account. Sadly, there was no response.
So, I will sit here and wait for the next dog catcher to text me that she’s running for state senate and just needs MY $15 to make that a reality.
Guess what? Texting STOP is free. Enjoy your yard sign. Wake me up when election season is over.
(Get more from Chris Kamler at his website appropriately called chriskamler.com)
