In two weeks (on November 2n 2010 - to be precise), we once again get the chance to determine the destiny of our free people. And, friends, this time the stakes are high. With this choice looming over us and knowing that many feel that no difference can be made by us schmooes, well I thought I'd post this piece I wrote and performed in the hope that we all turn off "Jersey Shore" and get out and do the right thing. And encourage all we know to do the same thing. Vote. Early and often. Our voices carry...
I guess a lot of people didn't notice - at least not until the news broke that the duly elected democratic candidate for Lt. Governor pawned himself and became yet another Illinois political pariah over his "youthful indiscretions" with prostitutes and money laundering - but we recently had an election here in the Great State of Illinois. And, judging by turnout data, not many folks really cared, although that still doesn't explain the cacophony of voices raised in song when Todd Stroger garnered a mere 13% of the vote.
Now I am not here to spank anyone - unless there are willing volunteers. Nor am I here to shake anyone out of their apathy.
I know how easy it is these days to become cynical and detached from the process that is our responsibility. Giving a damn is hard work. I know it is way simpler to come home after a hard day of looking for work and tune into "American Idol" or the "Biggest Loser" or any of the other candyland commercial crap corporate media puts out there to distract us from becoming informed citizens.
After all, We the People, as TAX FEARING AMERICANS, know that Marx had it all bolluxed up. Religion is not the opiate of the people: Celebrity is. I know too that the Jeffersonian ideal of an informed populace, genuinely involved and interested in the political process passed into history decades before we questioned Lady Gaga's gender or Brittany stepped out of the limo without panties.
So, like I say, I am not here to take anybody to the woodshed. And, I wouldn't presume to tell anyone what to do. No, all I am here to do is tell you my own personal voting story. Take from it what you will.
It's February 4th in Chicago. I don't have to tell you what that means. Primary elections!!!
I walked into my polling place - A church, can you dig on that? 'So much for separation of Church and State' I thought. But, I had resolve.
I had also had a couple beers with some friends before heading over to the church to practice my civic faith, so I kinda had to pee and seeing how's it's winter and what with all the gear and layers and whatnot I wear this time of year, tending to this simple bodily function tends to be as complicated as assembling Ikea furniture while tripping on acid.
That being the case I decided to fulfill my obligation to the general welfare of my increasingly unpredictable bladder before attempting to fulfill my obligation to the general welfare.
Blessedly relieved, I stood in line behind my similarly civic minded citizens (both of them) for a whopping three minutes thinking: 'Whoa, thank god I hit the can first.' I stepped up to the registrar and handed her my expired driver's license and my voter registration card - good citizens like Boy Scouts and porn stars are always prepared.
An interminable minute went by as they located my name on the registration list and I began to worry that I'd forget the name of one judicial candidate - a law school classmate of mine - for whom I simply had to cast a "yes" vote for because in this well informed citizen's opinion she deserved the hell of serving on the Circuit Court of Cook County for turning me down when I asked her out.
After highlighting my name in sharpie yellow, the registrar handed me back my invalid identification and my voter card and showed me where to place my illegible signature on the long blank line with the big X in front of it. The registrar handed my signed affirmation to the election judge who, duly and with great deferential fumbling about, placed it on a two ring binder.
The election judge, a young man who I guessed to be a mormon Republican, in his mid twenties, wearing a flag pin and enough Brylcreem to shame Ronald Reagan, grinned a shiny toothy grin up at me and asked which ballot I wanted.
I smiled my best snarky smile and said: "Dude, I rode my bicycle here." The election judge's grin widen into a dragon size smile, blinding in its brilliance, making me very thankful that I had neglected to remove my sun glasses and shouted down the table: "Democrat!"
'What is up with that?' I wondered, clutching my ballot much as I imagine Moses clutched the Ten Commandments on his stroll down Sinai. Halfway to the voting booth I turned and caught the judge's eye and said very quietly, not wishing to disturb the austere atmosphere of this citadel of citizenship: "How did you know?"
Again the glaring, dragon smile beamed forth as the judge said, "Dude, Republicans don't ride bicycles."
With laughter on my lips and a Tip O' my Hat, I stepped into the booth to cast my ballot.
Seriously, I wanted to link this up to funny pictures and articles, blog posts, and the tons of other crap I read every day, but man, it's later in the day on a Friday and there is a lady waiting. Vote.
WSE
