DIANE MAKAR MURPHY Now that the election's over, who's won? Me

Turn on the TV. Sssssh! Listen. Hear that? Toyota ads. A commercial for the Swiffer. Monica and Chandler are going to try again to make a baby. Carrot Top is tromping across the screen. Have a Bud. Drive a Volkswagen. Isn't it wonderful?
It's the sound of crass commercialism, and I love it. All the political ads are gone.
No more guys in suits hugging their kids and telling me what rotten stiffs their opponents are. (Not so long ago, the thing was flannel shirts. Flannel shirts with rolled-up sleeves equaled down-home goodness and straight talk. I like flannel shirts. I predict that, after all the Wall Street shenanigans, flannel shirts will make a comeback in 2004. )
No more felons reminding me that my government stinks and that I need to send the boys in Washington a message.
No more Tim Russert asking me to tune in because the Congress tips in the balance. Exclamation point. No, three exclamation points.
No more images of George W. shaking hands in Florida, shaking hands in Texas, shaking hands in _______ (fill in the blank) -- magically turning Democratic voters into Republican voters.
No more images of Dick Gephardt changing them back.
Catch these phrases
I'm hoping that, for at least a week, I won't have to hear the words risky scheme or special interests or hard-hit or extreme right wing or extreme left wing or right-wing suppression strategy.
I particularly hate the word poll in November of any election year. Scare tactics, stimulus package and conspiracy give me the shakes.
Nor will I have to hear comedians make jokes about voters in Florida who just can't seem to figure out the ballot system -- for a while, at least.
Beyond my abysmal stock portfolio, I won't have to be reminded that the economy is "faltering" or "in a downturn," or that there has been "fiscal irresponsibility."
The Republicans told me that the Democrats have "special-interest allies." The Democrats told me that the Republicans had a plan to "stop the minority vote." The Democrats wanted affordable prescription drugs; the Republicans wanted affordable prescription drugs.
And everyone, EVERYONE, wanted my money -- the schools, the county, the state, this coalition, that organization, my neighbor, the butcher, the baker and the official 9th District, duly elected, federally selected, never rejected candlestick maker.
Trailing behind
I am particularly glad that I will not hear the words campaign trail like it is an actual road, like the Oregon Trail -- which, of course, was a treacherous path that early settlers followed, braving starvation, wild terrain and disease. (About the first Monday in November, many voters would prefer being on the Oregon Trail to following the campaign trail. )
What's more, my mail has changed.
Today, I didn't receive one postcard with little red boxes and check marks. I didn't get one threat telling me that my children will have to pay for sports or walk to school. No one mailed me a picture of a guy in a suit hugging his kids. No one left a little plastic bag hanging on my front door extolling this candidate or the other. (Only my dog and I know what I use those little bags for.)
Just Monday I answered my phone and heard, "Hello, forgive us interrupting your very important day, but we want to be sure you go out tomorrow and vote for the only choice for your ..." That's all I heard because I hung the phone up then. I won't be getting any more of those calls for years. (Now, I'll just get the taped messages telling me I've won a Bermuda vacation.)
DNC chairman Terry McAuliffe called it a "campaign binge. " I like that. I like that a lot. Probably because everybody knows what happens after a binge. A purge.
murphy@vindy.com