by W.D. Ehrhart
Holy cow! I’ve just gotten a personal message from the world-famous political consultant James Carville. It says so right on the envelope: “A Personal Message from James Carville.” And not just personal, but confidential, too. Right there above my name on the envelope, it says “PERSONAL & CONFIDENTIAL.” Imagine that.
But inside is a printed notice that begins “Dear William.” Nobody ever calls me “William” except for receptionists in medical offices or stuff like that. Absolutely nothing “personal” about it. The entire document has been mechanically produced, virtually untouched by human hands, James Carville’s or anyone else’s.
Golly gee. Was I ever disappointed.
Well, no, not really. But I do wonder how gullible and naïve the Democrats think I am that they insult me by trying to claim this appeal for my $$$$$ is anything other than what it is: a mass mailing to millions of people who have somehow or other ended up on Democratic mailing lists.
I need to say here that I will only mention the Republican party in passing. I am 78 years old, and have never missed an election in which I was eligible to vote: general, primary, or special. And in all those elections, I have never voted for a Republican. I expect nothing from Republicans, and they have never failed to meet my expectations.
But over the years, I have often voted for Democrats because given the choices I’ve had, well, what choice did I have?
Not until 2016, however, did I ever make a financial donation to a political candidate because no candidate ever even came close to reflecting my own political beliefs.
But that changed when Bernie Sanders took a run at the Democratic nomination for the presidency. I’d been following Sanders’s career ever since he was elected mayor of Burlington, Vermont, in 1981 as an “Independent” (actually, a Socialist). I began contributing to his campaign monthly, and did so right up until the Democratic party establishment elite screwed him out of the nomination in favor of the unlikeable and unelectable Hilary Clinton.
I should have learned my lesson, but I didn’t. I contributed to Joe Biden’s campaign in 2020. He was elected to do one thing: remove Donald Trump from the political stage, preferably by putting him behind bars where he belongs. But Biden failed to accomplish that. Failed miserably as it turns out.
In 2022, I contributed to John Fetterman’s senate campaign. You can see what I got for my $$$$$ with that guy. And two years later, I contributed to the reelection campaign of Pennsylvania Senator Bob Casey, Jr., who ran such a lackluster campaign that he couldn’t manage to beat a carpetbagger from Connecticut. I gave $$$$$ to the Kamala Harris campaign.
And apparently my having contributed anything to any Democratic candidate has resulted in opening the floodgates. I am now being bombarded with desperate appeals from all over these United States: Georgia, Ohio, Florida, Alaska, Michigan, Texas. The envelope in which I’m supposed to send my donation to Amy Klobuchar is addressed to “Minnesotans for Klobuchar,” though I am not a Minnesotan for Klobuchar or even a Minnesotan at all. (At least her letter begins “Dear Friend” rather than “Dear William.”)
My governor, Josh Shapiro, sends me letter after letter—at least one every other week—warning of dire consequences if he is not reelected. Last time I checked, a few weeks ago, Shapiro had $38,300,000 available in his campaign “war chest”; his opponent had $956,000. Look carefully at those numbers. Shapiro ought to be ashamed of himself for continuing to claim that he needs my $$$$$ or his campaign is doomed.
I understand that political campaigns cost $$$$$, especially since our Supremely Unjust Court has eliminated any restrictions on $$$$$ in politics. And I realize that the Uber-rich are pumping millions and millions and millions of dollars into Republican campaigns.
But I also remember last June 2025 when I was out in the street with millions of ordinary Americans participating in the NO KINGS protests while Chuck Schumer, Hakeem Jeffries, Nancy Pelosi, Kamala Harris, and the Clintons were eating Wagyu beef and truffle agnolotti at the mindbogglingly lavish estate of George Soros.
How much did that cost? How much do these millions of mailings cost (nevermind all those trees destroyed to make the paper)? How much do the text messages I receive by the dozens and scores cost? How much do the same tired old TV campaign ads I see year after year—about as creative and inspiring as a wad of used chewing gum—how much do those cost, and how effective are they?
Do all these candidates from hither and yon, almost none of whom I can even vote for myself, think that I’m eating Wagyu beef and truffle agnolotti?
I just got a letter today from Barack Obama. The envelope says “Presidential correspondence enclosed for William Ehrhart.” Wow. I’m flattered. A letter from the president. Well, the former president at least. And guess what? He wants my $$$$$.
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W.D. Ehrhart is a retired Master Teacher of History & English, and author of a Vietnam War memoir trilogy published by McFarland.