Sometimes I don't think we attach the proper importance to voting. Like the Maine lobsterman who can eat lobster three times a day if he wanted to, we've come to overlook a very special thing because most of us have never gone without it. (Que rising patriotic music to unfurling red, white and blue bunting.)
The polls were quiet, only two other people there when I went to vote at 0800. One was a woman so, shall we say, Reubenesque, I was surprised the curtain closed about her. I thought well of her in my own instantaneously judgemental sort of way for hauling that big keester to the polls. There are a lot of perfectly fit slackers who can't be bothered to walk the half a block from Starbucks to Townhall to vote this morning, but that is probably a good thing. The other voter was this "dude" who could pass for Dennis Hopper's Billy from Easy Rider, complete with the fringed leather possibles bag or man purse if you will. He was scrounging around in his dude purse for some form of ID since only squares and "The Man" carry a wallet with a picture ID like an actual drivers license in their back pocket. The octogenarians manning the polls accepted something with his name and address printed on it, ostensibly a utility bill or Ed McMahon mailer. The good news is the man is undoubtedly a citizen because what other republic could possibly sustain such a curious relic?
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