While I spent the day waiting for the jury summons that never came (had jury duty but was not called to serve on a jury), our intrepid reporter working behind enemy lines (as he puts it) in the Bay State worked tirelessly on his clandestine report on the special Senate election.  This correspondent, an erstwhile (again in his words) “hard-over leftie” reports from the hinterlands (well, they’re pretty hinter to to those of us in sunny, er, overcast today, Southern California):

Dateline: Friday, January 15, 2010, ~4:00PM. An extremely liberal town in Massachusetts (went 9:1 Kerry:Bush in 2004 and close to 10:1 Obama:McCain in 2008),

Your reporter was, um… indisposed. (He works from home.) The phone rang. He elected not to answer. He’s glad he didn’t. He suspects few others did either, as this was during work hours. Seems like a silly strategy to get out the vote for Martha, calling at that hour… unless… Hmm…

Unless Martha’s prime constituents are unemployed (more and more likely) or on welfare (ditto) or illegal aliens (less likely here, but possible), or dead (hey, it worked for Daley), or working some cushy academic job where they get to take Fridays off ’cause they’ve got tenure.

Later, picking up the message, your reporter hears a deep male voice that sounds familiar. First thought: Scott Brown again!

No, that’s not right. He’s already in mid-sentence on the machine, sounding terribly, terribly earnest (which, though it rhymes — a little — with “honest”, does not connote same necessarily): “Very important FIGHT. Blah, blah, blah. Ted Kennedy’s Senate seat… blah, blah, blah… Need your support… FIGHT for healthcare… blah, blah, blah… in Washington I’m FIGHTING for… blah, blah, blah… FIGHTING… blah, blah, blah… clean energy… FIGHT… blah, blah, blah.”

Funny, I thought this was the party that didn’t like fighting so much. And it seemed to be all about HIM. If I didn’t already know the candidate’s name, I’d have had to guess.

Your reporter deleted the message before it was over. It was not going down well with his pre-dinner glass of Merlot.

How rude. It’s Friday night. Who does he think he is? The PRESIDENT?