When someone is out in public handing something out to passersby, there’s about a 99.99% chance you don’t want that thing.

It’s a real shame, but it is a very rare occasion that someone is just standing on the corner distributing diamonds or nachos or iPhones.

More likely, he’s handing out flyers for something you’re not at all interested in, like suit sales or palm readers or, terrifyingly, discounted dental work.

In Westchester, by the MTA station in advance of Election Day, lots of people gather to hand out flyers for various political campaigns.

And perhaps the Westchester residents are unaccustomed to my jaded big-city ways, but when I refuse them, they often make snarky comments like, “Well I guess some people just don’t like voting,” or “This is your town we’re talking about.”

Now here’s the thing: I do care about voting, but I would never really want to vote in an election in which I’m not familiar with the issues. Plus, there’s no chance I’d ever vote for someone just based on a flyer handed to me unsolicited at the train station. Also, though it technically is the town I live in, it has not been my town long enough for me to register to vote there, so I’m not someone they should actually be targeting.

Anyway, I was unable to avoid one of them even though I tried my very hardest. But I’m pretty glad I got it, and I’m upset I worked so hard to avoid looking at the guy because it turns out he has an unbelievable and, I presume, unironic mustache:

I have no idea what a highway superintendent does nor whether Peter M. Sciliano is qualified to perform those duties, but I’m certain he has my support. That’s a mustache I want making important decisions.