April 9, 2014 — With Kentucky in the midst of the political season, it’s time to share some stories I’ve heard about the art of politicking.
My favorite might be the man who ran for jailer but didn’t fare too well at the ballot box. In fact, he received only a handful of votes.
When he showed up at the local general store the day after the election, he was wearing a big pistol on his hip.
The storekeeper asked why he was wearing a sidearm and got this classic response:
“Any man who ain’t got no more friends than me ought to carry a gun.”
A colleague was a member of a federal grand jury investigating vote fraud with absentee ballots.
The federal prosecutor brought forth a man who freely admitted his part in the crime.
The government lawyer asked the culprit to explain to the grand jury members why he thought it was acceptable to write the names of dead persons on applications for absentee ballots and then to mark the ballots of the deceased.
The accused was quick to respond:
“This is America. Just ‘cause someone died don’t mean they lost their right to vote.”
Then there’s the tale of the skinny little guy who ran for constable just after World War II ended.
A political speakin’ was held at the courthouse.
Candidate after candidate came to the microphone to proudly tell how they’d been wounded in battle or taken prisoner and mistreated or how they had suffered from some jungle disease while overseas in the service.
Finally, it was the constable candidate’s turn to speak. He was not a veteran but he bravely cleared his throat and proudly announced:
“Folks, I know you can’t tell it from looking at me today but I’m the worst ruptured man in this here county.”