Where campaign signs retire after the election

The truth can now be revealed

The other day… By Donna Culotta

Did you ever wonder what happens to all those campaign signs once the election is over?

They do represent a sizable investment and if the office sought was parishwide, there’s a whole bunch of those signs around.

You probably think they get stored in a shed, or a garage, piled on the carport, taken to a store-n-lock, or any place where they’re out of sight.

I have discovered where campaign signs retire and it’s not what you’d expect.

Down a dusty road, deep in the woods, somewhere in the AP, a place that was leased on private property has been reserved for old campaign signs.

It’s under fence, has a locked gate and even a drone flying over can’t find it.

There is a sign and the place is called “Bubba Eugene’s Auto Parts,” You didn’t think they’d call it “The spot where campaign signs retire,” did you? Because they didn’t.

The signs come in the dark of night and unloaded with much decorum because these signs have given a lot in order to accomplish the job they just finished.

Since there has been a drought of sorts, most of them were unceremoniously hammered into the rock-like dirt. Some were nailed to something, ouch!

They stood like beacons in the scorching heat, driving rain, when there was such a thing, stood tight against wind and patiently waited in the dark of night for the sun to come up. Some were even run over.

So these unsung heroes are the spirit of elections-past and are honored for all they gave.

At Bubba Eugene’s the latest group of signs just arrived and there was a greeting party as they entered.

An ‘Edwin Edwards for Governor’ sign graciously welcomed them, “Y’all come in, have a drink and play some poker.”

There was music playing in another room where a group of old and faded campaign signs were two-stepping a line dance to Willie Nelson’s “Vote ‘Em Out.”

“Come join us,” called ‘Earl Edwards for Judge.’ We’re having a good time.”

A battle-worn district attorney sign spoke up, “I’m beat, I haven’t sat down in months. I’m gonna sit by the fireplace and put my wire brackets up.”

The line dancers waved approval and a faded DA sign from the 1970s cautioned, “Don’t get too close to that fire, you’ll melt, literally, you will melt!”

A school board sign, who was probably the youngest in the newly arrived group walked around the large building and took in the sight. There were signs of every color, size and candidate; old, young and colorful, it was a political jambalaya.

School board sign could tell by the twisted and bent wire bracket legs what kind of battle other signs had been through.

Shockingly. there were signs from the 1900s that had been hit with a shotgun blast. School board sign walked over to such a sign whose lettering had been peppered so badly it was hard to read.

“You are ‘otch Didi for her?” it asked.

“That’s ‘Potch Didier for Sheriff’ to you kid and look at me, I’m a mess.”

“What happened, Mr. Potch,” young sign asked.

“My guy was in jail and this is what happened to me when he wasn’t around.”

Young sign just shook his head, “hard to believe.”

“Aw, it was back in the 1900s and people did stupid things to signs like this. So, kid, did your guy win?”

“Yes, he did. I worked hard for him.”

“We all worked hard, that’s why we’re here.”

Suddenly a huge political billboard sign came rumbling in the room. It stopped in front of the old sheriff sign and said, “My grandfather voted for you.”

“Then I must have done a good job, “old sheriff sign proclaimed. “I must have done a really good job.”

Campaign signs gather for a fictional retirement in this photo illustration accompanying a humorous look at where the familiar roadside fixtures go after Election Day.