Perhaps I should ask what I am expected to do with a boatload of 19th century drivel spewed by mostly clueless bimbos whose acquaintance I do not treasure. This is of no benefit to me. These snooty rich billionaire people expect me to work full-time for nothing digging up all of their dirt, as if I ever knew anything about it.
I am also reminded of the day in 10th grade English class when Joan Calabrese made some sort of snarky comment about how regrettable it was that Richard Nixon was reelected (1972). The Watergate hearings were at that time in full swing in D.C. I replied that, well, actually my parents voted for Nixon. Joan said, "Oh!" and then snootily turned away in her haughty arrogant way, as if this revelation only confirmed the stupidity of my existence.
Uh, thanks?
And if the person whose name graced my passport were to later get involved in burglarizing Democratic Party headquarters, would I be complicit in their crime by virtue of passport identification? I think not. I think I would be needlessly torturing myself and taking on way too much baggage if I were to ask such useless questions and engage in such irrelevant dialogue with persons who would only be using me for their own political purposes. Watergate does not concern me in a personal way. I am sure that some Republican Party people are deeply affected but I am not them. I respect their silence but they also need to respect mine. I am not even aware of how connected my relatives might be to that party machinery because I was not there and, anyway, they never tell me anything.
