I got my ballot in the mail Saturday before last…
I got my ballot in the mail Saturday before last. Mailed it the next day. Was able to just sit down and do my research online in a few hours. It took that only because I get distracted easily. I could have dropped it off at the supervisor of elections office, but it was a Sunday.
The next week, my email inbox and postbox got flooded with advertisements. I started seeing the signs go up. It was strange being done and having it past me weeks before the 23 August Election Day. It drove home how stupid and insulting the whole project is. That a post card with really nothing on it but bragging points will make a decision for somebody. Or a few minutes on TV. Or just seeing a sign on a yard.
Don’t get me wrong. I am grateful to have this mail in ballot. There have been several times where I’ve not been able to vote. In 2016 the precinct had miscalculated the turn out to the point that there were no more ballots or provisional ballots. We were instructed to wait. As long as we waited and didn’t leave the precinct we could vote. I had life to attend to. A sick wife, work. So I forfeited and went on with life. I don’t remember anyone staying.
Other times too. And other shenanigans. I started voting early voting at the courthouse because there was no policing political demonstration or campaigning at my precinct. I shouldn’t have to push through a crowd with signs, be asked who I am voting for to gain access to my precinct. That was the 80’s. People didn’t have cellphones with cameras. We could be shitty to each other more easily. And get away with it.
Times I have had my registration seemingly dropped. Or not. They would say so at my precinct, but I’d go on line and check. And there I would be. Registered to vote. Yep. Since 4 July 1988. And off I would go to the courthouse precinct. Times I have just gotten a new voter’s registration card. With a party affiliation, which is interesting, as I have been NPA my whole life. No worries. An error than gained me options, not took them away. Getting handed the wrong ballot at the precinct. Not sure why. My ballot not going into the machine— hardware failure! Not sure why. But there we are.
I could be cynical about all this. But I’m not. I think most of these things that I’ve described are just noise in the system. A bunch of technical pieces operated by volunteers infrequently. You still need energy and time to deal with it. I had hoped to volunteer as a poll worker. There is a dreadful shortage here. People don’t want to do it because of the threats of violence such volunteers have gotten, and because of the risk of criminal or civil suits. Sure, there is nothing to worry about unless you’ve done something wrong. But Im not going to risk having to pay for counsel, time from work, just because I was the guy watching people stuff their ballots in the machine.
No. I’m not going to be a poll worker. I’ve got enough problems. I’m not going to the precinct. I’ve got enough problems— and I want my ballot. I want that guarantee, which the precincts can’t guarantee. Sure. There are recourses. But I’m not going to risk a shortage of ballots, having to wait for a supervisor of elections official to show up, wondering whether a provisional ballot will be honored. No. I’m just going to wait for my ballot to turn up in the mail. Fill in my ovals over coffee.
Sadly, after the last election, just this is considered transgressive. As a response to COVID, or fraud, or incompetence, the norms for mail in ballots were shattered. And the tales quite fantastic— ballots printed on rice paper by the Chinese being my favorite. We’re culturally not so good at nuance, so for many, all mail ballots are questionable. The trade off I’m making is that some prick is going to look for any reason to get my ballot rejected. I mailed it on, must be a commie.
I’m not worried. I used a fresh box of crayons to fill in the ovals. And drew a really good horse on the envelope as my signature.
The next week, my email inbox and postbox got flooded with advertisements. I started seeing the signs go up. It was strange being done and having it past me weeks before the 23 August Election Day. It drove home how stupid and insulting the whole project is. That a post card with really nothing on it but bragging points will make a decision for somebody. Or a few minutes on TV. Or just seeing a sign on a yard.
Don’t get me wrong. I am grateful to have this mail in ballot. There have been several times where I’ve not been able to vote. In 2016 the precinct had miscalculated the turn out to the point that there were no more ballots or provisional ballots. We were instructed to wait. As long as we waited and didn’t leave the precinct we could vote. I had life to attend to. A sick wife, work. So I forfeited and went on with life. I don’t remember anyone staying.
Other times too. And other shenanigans. I started voting early voting at the courthouse because there was no policing political demonstration or campaigning at my precinct. I shouldn’t have to push through a crowd with signs, be asked who I am voting for to gain access to my precinct. That was the 80’s. People didn’t have cellphones with cameras. We could be shitty to each other more easily. And get away with it.
Times I have had my registration seemingly dropped. Or not. They would say so at my precinct, but I’d go on line and check. And there I would be. Registered to vote. Yep. Since 4 July 1988. And off I would go to the courthouse precinct. Times I have just gotten a new voter’s registration card. With a party affiliation, which is interesting, as I have been NPA my whole life. No worries. An error than gained me options, not took them away. Getting handed the wrong ballot at the precinct. Not sure why. My ballot not going into the machine— hardware failure! Not sure why. But there we are.
I could be cynical about all this. But I’m not. I think most of these things that I’ve described are just noise in the system. A bunch of technical pieces operated by volunteers infrequently. You still need energy and time to deal with it. I had hoped to volunteer as a poll worker. There is a dreadful shortage here. People don’t want to do it because of the threats of violence such volunteers have gotten, and because of the risk of criminal or civil suits. Sure, there is nothing to worry about unless you’ve done something wrong. But Im not going to risk having to pay for counsel, time from work, just because I was the guy watching people stuff their ballots in the machine.
No. I’m not going to be a poll worker. I’ve got enough problems. I’m not going to the precinct. I’ve got enough problems— and I want my ballot. I want that guarantee, which the precincts can’t guarantee. Sure. There are recourses. But I’m not going to risk a shortage of ballots, having to wait for a supervisor of elections official to show up, wondering whether a provisional ballot will be honored. No. I’m just going to wait for my ballot to turn up in the mail. Fill in my ovals over coffee.
Sadly, after the last election, just this is considered transgressive. As a response to COVID, or fraud, or incompetence, the norms for mail in ballots were shattered. And the tales quite fantastic— ballots printed on rice paper by the Chinese being my favorite. We’re culturally not so good at nuance, so for many, all mail ballots are questionable. The trade off I’m making is that some prick is going to look for any reason to get my ballot rejected. I mailed it on, must be a commie.
I’m not worried. I used a fresh box of crayons to fill in the ovals. And drew a really good horse on the envelope as my signature.
