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Stunned is not a strong enough word to describe my reaction to the sign I saw at the end of my Uncle Fud's driveway when I arrived at Chigger Mountain Farm last week.
The red, white and blue sign said: Fud for State Senate.
"What in the world are you doing?" I asked as I charged into his kitchen without knocking on the door or stomping the snow off my shoes.
"I'm inspired," Uncle Fud said. "If Scott Brown can be a winner, so can I."
"What qualifications does an old farmer like you have?" I asked.
"I've got a barn jacket and a pickup truck," he said. "What more does a guy need in Massachusetts?"
"A pretty face," I said.
"What's wrong with my face?" Uncle Fud asked.
"Nothing that 40 shots of Botox wouldn't fix," I said. "And I certainly hope you're not planning to pose naked for some magazine."
"I sent a query along with my picture to the AARP," he said. "I didn't get nothin' back."
"At least there's some sign of sanity out there," I said. "What makes you think that campaigning in your pickup while wearing your barn jacket will get you elected to the Legislature?" I asked.
"It worked for Brown at the national level," Uncle Fud said. "I should do even better with my campaign."
"Why should you do better?" I asked.
"My barn jacket has actually been in a barn," he said. "It's got an air of authenticity about it."
"I've noticed that," I said. "I've also noticed that Aunt Dud won't let you bring your jacket into the house because of that air."
"That's why my campaign rallies are all held outside," Uncle Fud said. "But another thing in my favor is that my pickup has actually been used to haul somethin' besides campaign signs."
"Yes, it has," I said. "And it, too, has acquired an air of authenticity."
"That's why I always park it a block away from the farmers' market," he said. "Still there's no denyin' that folks out here appreciate reality."
Stunned is not a strong enough word to describe my reaction to the sign I saw at the end of my Uncle Fud's driveway when I arrived at Chigger Mountain Farm last week.
The red, white and blue sign said: Fud for State Senate.
"What in the world are you doing?" I asked as I charged into his kitchen without knocking on the door or stomping the snow off my shoes.
"I'm inspired," Uncle Fud said. "If Scott Brown can be a winner, so can I."
"What qualifications does an old farmer like you have?" I asked.
"I've got a barn jacket and a pickup truck," he said. "What more does a guy need in Massachusetts?"
"A pretty face," I said.
"What's wrong with my face?" Uncle Fud asked.
"Nothing that 40 shots of Botox wouldn't fix," I said. "And I certainly hope you're not planning to pose naked for some magazine."
"I sent a query along with my picture to the AARP," he said. "I didn't get nothin' back."
"At least there's some sign of sanity out there," I said. "What makes you think that campaigning in your pickup while wearing your barn jacket will get you elected to the Legislature?" I asked.
"It worked for Brown at the national level," Uncle Fud said. "I should do even better with my campaign."
"Why should you do better?" I asked.
"My barn jacket has actually been in a barn," he said. "It's got an air of authenticity about it."
"I've noticed that," I said. "I've also noticed that Aunt Dud won't let you bring your jacket into the house because of that air."
"That's why my campaign rallies are all held outside," Uncle Fud said. "But another thing in my favor is that my pickup has actually been used to haul somethin' besides campaign signs."
"Yes, it has," I said. "And it, too, has acquired an air of authenticity."
"That's why I always park it a block away from the farmers' market," he said. "Still there's no denyin' that folks out here appreciate reality."
"Okay, getting back to reality, are you running as a Democrat or a Republican?" I asked.
"I ain't decided yet," Uncle Fud said. "It would be easier to run as a Republican because you only have to remember two words."
"What two words?" I asked.
"Tax cuts," he said. "Those two words are the answer to every question if you're a Republican. Bein' a Democrat is more complicated."
"How so?" I asked.
"Well, Republicans talk about tax cuts and then they raise taxes by callin' them fees," Uncle Fud said. "Democrats aren't that clever, so they have to figure out what they can tax without gettin' beat in the next election. Right now it's cigars and candy."
"Well, let me know when you decide which way you'll farm out your talent, red or blue," I said.
"Actually, I'm goin' white," he said. "I plan to milk the fact that I'm a dairy farmer for all it's worth."
"The opposition should be cowed by that," I said. "And right now I'm heading for home."
"Mop up that melted snow from your shoes before you go," Uncle Fud said. "We can't vote this kitchen dry."
Glenn Ickler of Hopedale is a retired newspaper editor.
