I Opened a Republican 'Eviction Notice'—Turns Out They Just Wanted $35

As reported in the first part of this two-part series, my name has somehow landed on Republican fundraising mailing lists even though, at no point during more than 50 years as a registered voter in four states, have I ever registered as a Republican.

Yet several months ago, something happened.

Perhaps there was a clerical error. Perhaps there was a cosmic disturbance in the political universe. Or perhaps someone, somewhere, decided I needed more excitement in my mailbox.

Whatever the reason, the National Republican Congressional Committee has apparently adopted me.

The latest arrival came this week.

It was an EVICTION NOTICE.

This was not a subtle eviction notice.

Not one tucked discreetly inside an envelope.

No, this one was proudly displayed through the envelope's little plastic window, screaming "EVICTION NOTICE" in large bold letters, as though the U.S. Marshals were warming up the battering ram outside my front door. The document itself looked like something prepared by a particularly dramatic homeowners association, complete with caution stripes, "DRAFT" watermarks, and the handwritten plea, "Don't let this happen!"

Naturally, I opened it.

Political consultants spend millions of dollars trying to improve "open rates." Apparently, all they needed to do was convince people they're about to lose the roof over their heads.

For a brief moment I wondered who exactly was evicting me. I have no mortgage, and my taxes are current.

Instead, I learned that the eviction notice wasn't for me.

It was for House Republican leadership.

According to the notice, if Republicans lose their House majority, they will be forced to "immediately VACATE" leadership positions, committee assignments, oversight powers, and "the right to subpoena and investigate federal government corruption and fraud," effective Jan. 3, 2027.

The irony here is so thick you could spread it on toast.

Republicans currently control the House, the Senate, the presidency, and enjoy a conservative majority on the U.S. Supreme Court.

If there are federal corruption investigations Republicans would like to conduct, there appears to be no shortage of opportunities.

One might begin, purely as an example, with the Trump family's reported business dealings while Donald Trump has been president. Regardless of one's views about those activities, congressional Republicans have shown approximately the same level of curiosity as a houseplant.

Yet here was my eviction notice warning that Republicans might someday lose the ability to investigate corruption.

It's a little like a fire department mailing fundraising letters warning that if taxpayers don't contribute immediately, firefighters may someday lose access to water—even though they're currently standing next to the fire hydrant.

Then came the companion piece.

House Speaker Mike Johnson included a two-page letter explaining that this election is among the most important in American history (which one isn't!) and warning that if Democrats win, they would slash President Trump's agenda, issue "eviction notices" to Trump and Vice President J.D. Vance, impeach Trump again, and unleash all manner of governmental calamity.

As with nearly every political fundraising letter ever written, after several paragraphs describing civilization's impending collapse, the story reached its inevitable conclusion:

Could I please send money?

Specifically, anywhere from $35 to $500.

This is the part of political fundraising that fascinates me.

Imagine applying the same technique elsewhere.

Your dentist sends an envelope labeled "ROOT CANAL NOTICE."

You open it in a panic.

Inside is a letter explaining that, unless you immediately donate $250, cavities will destroy America.

Or your local grocery store mails you a document marked "FORECLOSURE."

You tear it open only to discover they're merely encouraging you to buy more bananas.

Political consultants, however, have determined that these tactics work well enough to keep using them. Judging by the number of dramatic envelopes arriving in mailboxes every election cycle, someone, somewhere, is responding.

And honestly, I'm glad mine arrived. As the November election approaches, I suspect more of these colorful fundraising masterpieces will appear.

Far from being annoyed, I now regard them as free subscription content delivered directly to my mailbox.

One reader suggested after yesterday's story that perhaps someone deliberately signed me up for Republican mailing lists as a practical joke—or perhaps as revenge.

If that's true, I'd like to extend my sincere appreciation.

You've unknowingly expanded the opposition research material without costing Elk Grove News a penny.

Who knows?

One of these future mailers may even provide insight into how Republicans, Republican-affiliated organizations, or independent expenditure committees decide to involve themselves in California's unusual 7th Congressional District race between Doris Matsui and Mai Vang, even though no Republican survived the primary.

Until then, I will continue opening my mail with great anticipation.

Because apparently every few days I learn that either democracy is ending...

...or someone needs another $35.