Lawrence Hall
But They Didn’t
Give Me an “I VOTED” Sticker
-attributed to Winston Churchill
On the Orwellian telescreen the newsies daily give us
Apocalyptic stories about the near-impossibility of voting, featuring long
lines and stress at the polls, and brief interviews with the sort of people
whose mothers never taught them not to say stupid things in public.
My voting experience did not match any of the fashionable
sturm und drang. I was on my way for lunch for a friend and voted
without long lines, riots, or menacing meanies at a sub-courthouse / cop shop
down the road from Stoplight, Texas.
There was a short wait because of CV requirements and
because the fellow ahead of me thought the sign about not talking on MePhones
didn’t apply to him.
At the entrance to the building reposed a metal frame
featuring little green lights at about four feet and again at six feet; a
shepherdess advised me I could place my wrist to the lower light or my forehead
to the higher light. Always going for that higher light. I assumed that the
lights indicated sensors for measuring my temperature, but it may have been a Q
plot to absorb my mind.
I’m glad they didn’t take my temp with one of those large
plastic guns which they point at your head as if you have gotten crossways of
the godfather.
Or at least that’s what Q would have you believe.
Once past the Frame of the Green Lights I was shown into
a small room where I was asked to present my voter card and my driving license
to another shepherdess. I joked that I hadn’t planned to drive the ballot, but
she wasn’t amused.
She placed both cards into machines with illuminated them
with blue lights, presumably scanning them for secret information about the
time the C.I.A. parachuted me into Russia on a secret mission to…but you could
ask Q about that.
Another shepherdess returned both cards to me and gave me
a blunt stylus for signing my name on a little screen just like at the
supermarket (this week’s special is democracy), gave me a paper ballot (how
quaint) and a blue pen, and directed me to a carrel set on a folding table.
And there, I voted, exercising not simply a citizen’s
right but a citizen’s duty to participate meaningfully in the self-government
of our Republic. All the ads, all the talking, all the ‘blogging, all the
arguing, and all the up-or-down marks in the Daily Mail are irrelevant.
The action is in voting.
How easy could it be! The poll workers were unfailingly
polite and professional in every way, the system worked, and I was out in less
than ten minutes.
There was one disappointment, though – I wasn’t given one
of those nifty “I VOTED” stickers.
Well, I think that I and the Republic will both survive
anyway.
-30-
