Duhmocracy In Action

Each registered voter has a duty to perform next Tuesday: Use the turn signal and get in the flow of traffic. On the other end of that jaunt, at some point, there is a voting ballot with your name on it. That makes it easier to track your movements from the cabal headquarters, which isn’t where you may think it is. (You didn’t hear it from me, and you didn’t hear the words “time-share in Estacada.")

The past few elections and opportunities to vote have raised a lot of questions in our society. Who controls voting procedure? Why is it different from place to place? What would generate a larger voter turn-out? Why isn’t there any free food at voting sites? Does question 4 answer question 3? Why vote when I rarely seem to win, no matter how many ballots I complete?

Democracy is a form of government For the People, Of the People, and By the People. The common thread to all of those tenets is “People.” The common flaw to those tenets is “People.” By the People? Have you seen The People? Bad drivers, cell-phone wireless earpiece yappers, 15 items in the 10-Or-Less line, and their vote counts just as much as yours and mine. But I am not deluded by our Democratic Voting Procedure. I am encouraged by it. Without The People, the computers will take over and control the voting, and luckily we are hundreds of minutes away from that happening. Eventually the computers will take over the voting, too, and it’s going to be terrible! Computers will be voting based on logic and numbers, instead of feelings and politics.

Oh no.
The horror.

I am an American. A tax-payer. A homeowner. I have a Bachelors Degree. I read. I bathe regularly, whether I need it or not. I vote. I vote so that a victory of one of my favorite initiatives will crush the dreams of its opponents. I vote to get one of those “I Voted!” stickers that remind other people to feel guilty for abstaining. I vote, even though there is no veggie platter or meat tray available. And I know that when I make my marks on my mail-in ballot and send it in if I can find a stamp, my vote will arrive safe and sound to a highly trained volunteer. And then my ballot, my VOTE, will OFFICIALLY not count.

As stewards of our environments it is a very small, yet very important effort to partake in something many people have died to defend: Our freedom to let our neighbors screw things up because we didn’t go vote. Be American. Vote Like It Matters.

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Take Me Home

My Blog About My Dad

The Post Office = P.O.

Couple weeks back I go to the Post Office to send some stuff to a buddy of mine, a couple of comedy promos, headshots (ones I stole), and a brownie wrapped in toilet paper. Went for a padded mailer envelope, runs about $2 at the P'Office. The line is 9 deep, running about 4 minutes/transaction, listening to every old MF shuffle their feet to the counter before asking 5 questions about stamps. I can't wait to be that old and just completely throw people's lives off-skej (schedule) with my pre-planned "folksiness." Then again, maybe these oldsters don't have any friends still alive or family around to help them, which makes me think "Wow, your family won't help you? What a pile of crap you must've been."

I grab the mailer, 10th now in line, and it's just taking fo-rever. I say quietly, "Oh my, this is most unpleasant, this wait. I have so much to accomplish that I simply can NOT wait any longer. 'Tis best now to excuse myself." So I f*ck-off to the self-serve kiosk where I can weigh my package... AND what I'm sending to my buddy... buy the postage for it and get on with my day.

I bag my goods in the envelope, deftly and gorgeously scrawl the address on the front of it, seal it with a mucous-laden loogie though it had the adhesive on it already, and weigh it up. $4-ish bucks for 3 day, fine, hit it. I slap the thing on it, drop it in the thing, and get the F outta there. TOTALLY FORGETTING TO PAY FOR THE ENVELOPE.

I guess you could say I "stole" it, since I procured its use without the proper exchange of currency for the sundry good. I decided that my life and time was too valuable to wait in line for that $2, so I'd return soon when it wasn't so busy and drop the $2 on the mailer without a big explanation. It’s the right thing to do, and it’s got an air of neighborliness not seen since Eddie Haskell commented on the Beauty of the Beaver’s Mom’s pearl necklace.

So I head back to the P’Office and do the math… what I make per hour = X, and the cost of the envelope = Y, and Karma = Z. So (X/Y) = Z, or X*Y/Z = Public Education In Math. After about 7 minutes in line, with no hope for moving any faster (who the hell are the elderly sending everything to? Are they willing off their figurines early?), I say quietly, “THIS NONSENSE IS NONSENSE AND I’M GONNA LEAVE.” I turned on my heels and headed right out to the door, and the F to my life.

Then I realized, hey, how about a quick explanation on a piece of paper about the situation? I could tuck a couple of dollars into an envelope, or a check! I could write a check and drop that in and throw it in a processing bin and they’d see it and run it up front. Well, that may actually screw up the whole process, slowing it down EVEN MORE (call Steven Hawking, his wormhole is in Bellevue) while they take the envelope up to get rung in. That is assuming that they didn’t just rip it open and take the cash, or hell, even the check and then assume my identity and write blogs and end up in my car some morning swearing at people in Pig Latin. I’d cut in line and just drop it on the counter, in hopes they didn’t think I was trying to rob the place, if they could put F & CK together and figure the deal out. Nope, too risky.

You can’t trust people to do the right thing, I guess.

Take Me Home

My Blog About My Dad