It's the Most Wond-DUH-ful Time of the Year
Election Day is always on a Tuesday. I work late on Tuesdays. This means I must vote on Tuesday mornings as soon as the polls open and then get to work.
Voting is a challenge in the township where I live. For one thing, the volunteers who staff the polls are all at least eighty years old, never get the polls open on time, and have a very hard time reading the voter's registration list. Then they feel compelled to bellow your name and whatever number voter you are to the person who gives you your ballot (and of course, they always mispronounce my name); whether this is because they're deaf or because the person tearing the little strip off your ballot is deaf, I have no idea. I was excited to hear that we were finally doing away with the punch card system of voting this year. Hurray, no more 'hanging chads' for our township! Guess what we have now? (bum bum bum) Felt tip pens and little ovals to fill in! Wonderful. There I am, with my nose practically touching the paper, trying to read the tiny ovals. I live in one of the wealthiest counties/townships in Pennsylvania (although I'm definitely lower-lower middle class). Why in heaven's name can't we get more advanced voting equipment than THAT? I can see it now- there will be a brou-haha over votes being recounted because of all the smudges caused by the felt-tip pens. My little township will become the focus of nationwide news, as the senatorial and gubernatorial candidates war over the smudged ovals, as a few precious votes can swing the balance. In the midst of this, Kimby will hide under the bed and wish she'd just done a write-in for Denzel Washington.
Well, perhaps I'm getting a little carried away.
But I doubt it.
Voting is a challenge in the township where I live. For one thing, the volunteers who staff the polls are all at least eighty years old, never get the polls open on time, and have a very hard time reading the voter's registration list. Then they feel compelled to bellow your name and whatever number voter you are to the person who gives you your ballot (and of course, they always mispronounce my name); whether this is because they're deaf or because the person tearing the little strip off your ballot is deaf, I have no idea. I was excited to hear that we were finally doing away with the punch card system of voting this year. Hurray, no more 'hanging chads' for our township! Guess what we have now? (bum bum bum) Felt tip pens and little ovals to fill in! Wonderful. There I am, with my nose practically touching the paper, trying to read the tiny ovals. I live in one of the wealthiest counties/townships in Pennsylvania (although I'm definitely lower-lower middle class). Why in heaven's name can't we get more advanced voting equipment than THAT? I can see it now- there will be a brou-haha over votes being recounted because of all the smudges caused by the felt-tip pens. My little township will become the focus of nationwide news, as the senatorial and gubernatorial candidates war over the smudged ovals, as a few precious votes can swing the balance. In the midst of this, Kimby will hide under the bed and wish she'd just done a write-in for Denzel Washington.
Well, perhaps I'm getting a little carried away.
But I doubt it.