I actually forced myself to wake up early this morning so that I could run off and cast my vote here in wonderful Colorado, where there has been early voting for the last couple weeks or so. If you can’t vote early in your state, don’t look at it as the government doesn’t love you as much as they love us. I mean, of COURSE they don’t. But don’t look at it that way. It might depress you.
It was special. The line was long, but there was a general air of happiness and glee. I wanted none of that, so it was a good thing I brought a book. The 45 minutes I stood in line FLEW by as I read “Going Postal”, the fantastic book that I may have mentioned before. Yes, I’m still not done. But I did get a good amount read in line. And no cops approached me so I guess people just don’t notice the title of the thing. Go figure.
When I got out of the basement, where the line had stretched to, I saw there was an in-line demonstration of the new voting machines. The instructions fell from the woman’s lips like the giggles of God as she went through the magical motions that would teach us all the new way in which our voices shall be heard this election year! Or possibly not, if the machines cock up. We’ll have to wait and see.
One witty fellow a few spots ahead of me asked her where on the electronic ignition card we were supposed to punch out our votes and you could see the gears behind the woman’s eyes seize up as she stuttered, “You don’t punch anything. You enter your votes on the screen. Like I just showed you.” And I could tell that right then SHE wanted to punch something. Then the line moved on a bit and she began her demonstration all over again for the people behind us. I could feel satisfaction and love radiate from her. It was soothing and vaguely pink.
The witty fellow looked back at me and since I hadn’t yet returned to my book he engaged me in a conversation about the woman’s apparent lack of a sense of humor. I agreed, “Yes. She does seem to not get the funny,” and then he handled the rest of the conversation from there with the occasional noise of support from me. When he paused for a breath I returned to my reading in a way that I hope conveyed the feeling of, “Just because I’m being all democratic this morning doesn’t mean I actually like any of you people.” And the line moved on.
When it came time to present my picture ID to prove that I was who I said I was, I tried to give the woman my voter registration card as well, thinking that’s what it was for. “I only need your ID sweetie,” she said because I AM so sweet. So I took back the card and sat down, which really was a mistake. My lower back decided to let me know just how pissed it was about standing in line all that time by attempting to kill me on the spot. I hurt. I hurt bad.
She then handed me a paper to look over and sign if it was correct. I tried to focus on it, but I was still battling my back. I was pretty sure it was right though, so I signed it. I really hope I didn’t sign a “Live Organ Donor” card or something. Then I went to a different seat to await my chance at the new voting machine. My back was hurting so much that I couldn’t remember if she gave me my ID back. God knows how I voted.
About the new machines: they are so friendly the one I was using tried to give me money. But I said, “No, no little machine! I don’t need money! I’m here to cast my wishes upon the sea of indifference once again, much like the lemming tosses itself from a cliff or a cat eats its young.” and it was as though it understood me. It promptly gave me a lemming. Such a special machine. So I tossed that sucker, thankful that it hadn’t given me a kitten as I wasn’t very hungry just then.
I left the magnificent showcase of democracy in action with a spring in my step, hope in my heart and a lingering pain in my back. I was also going to need some bandages for the lemming bites and scratches, but it was worth it. MY VOICE WAS GOING TO BE HEARD! Or, again, not. You know. If the machines crap out.
Whatever. I was late for work.
In the spirit of bringing this country together I offer you this song by Herve Villechez. He has a magnificent voice and huge dreams for a small dead guy. If this doesn’t bring us together in our time of togetherness, then what can? Huh? What?
If that link doesn’t work go here: Incorrect Music Siftings and scroll down to the entry on 10-9-01. It’s the third song. Listen, love and learn. I know I did.
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As an afterthought, so many people seem to be voting early that it looks like the people who wait for November 2nd to vote may not have any lines at all. Wouldn’t that be FUNNY?! Grr.
