I have been holding out on you. Now my news will come in an untimely manner. Better late than never, I suppose.
The teacher lunch table was abuzz with voting horror stories. That's the price those people pay when they live right in the school's backyard. Thank the Gummi Mary, Mrs. Hillbilly Mom is one district removed from her own. Thus the pastoral church setting that is her voting precinct, where the most angst accrued is from rubbing scaly elbows with dehydrated old people. Or playing chicken with a first-timer amongst the round-table-maze where the voting happens.
Play a loop of Psycho stabbing music in your head. Or the haunting theme from the original Jamie Lee Curtis Halloween. No names will be used, in order to protect the horrified.
"There he was. The fifth-year senior. The one I just gave ISS to last week."
"My polling place was crowded. There was absolutely no privacy. Anyone could walk by and see how you were voting. I tried to be very aware of who was around me, in case it was one of our parents."
"I looked up, and there were five of my students. 'Hey, Coach! Who should we vote for?' It was a nightmare. And they had five votes. They just didn't know for who."
"People at my voting place were filling in all the holes. ALL the holes. Like, for every candidate. The old ladies running it said it had been happening all day. The scanner kept kicking out the ballots because people voted for every single candidate."
"I heard a guy asking, 'Hey, do I have to fill that all in? Is a check mark okay?' Even though there were signs ALL AROUND THE ROOM showing how to fill it in. It was on the ballot, too! You'll never guess who this guy was. One of our teachers! Who teaches that subject!!! He didn't even know how to vote. And he's not young!"
Sorry. Didn't mean to scare you now that it's dark. Don't go in the basement.
4 comments:
Yes, the stupidity of people knows no bounds. It's a case of truth being far scarier than fiction.
I was once in a Big Blogger writing contest with some past blogging friends. (It's in my archives early on.) Though I made it to the final two, I was disappointed to log in one day and see that I had received fewer votes that a cheese sandwich and a sheep on a unicycle. Don''t you worry about ol' Hillbilly Mom. I won it the next year. Some might say the fix was in, but I'm keeping mum.
The good news is that the machine spit the ballot out (that was totally filled in). I have always thought that there should be a simple test to weed out stupidity. Like some sort of litmus paper that turns a certain shade when touched by idiots or those that hhave far too many relatives in common.
Kathy,
If only I could persuade the #1 son to major in biochemical engineering, the two of you could join forces and make a killing (figuratively, of course) with that product.
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