Terronian
03-11-2004, 04:10
I'd like to tell you about my adventure today with the voting clerk, the
lady whose job it is to determine my identity and hand me my ballot. These
eagle-eyed defenders of the American way have the important task of
preventing voter fraud, on the theory that stringing millions of idiots
together in series will yield good decisions but only if each idiot only
gets one vote.
I stepped up to the desk and silently handed her my driver's license, which
has my legal name on it, right? These may seem like obvious points to you;
but I feel it's important to emphasize:
1) My driver's license clearly lists my name as John Strauss
2) I gave the clerk my driver's license first thing
With my driver's license IN HER HAND, the clerk looked down at her book and
picked the first unused name on the page.
Her: Gary Stiles?
Me: No, my name is John Strauss.
Her: (Looking back down at her book, then back up at me, frowning.) Are you
saying you're NOT Gary Stiles?
Me: That's correct, ma'am. I'm not Gary Stiles.
Her: (brandishing my driver's license with annoyance) Then what IS your
name?
Me: It's John Strauss.
Her: (looking down at her book again, then back up) Jack Stiller?
Me: No. I'm not Jack Stiller.
Her: (deeply annoyed at me) What is your name, please?
Me: John Strauss.
Her: May I see some identification, please?
Me: Would you like to see my driver's license?
Her: A driver's license is fine.
Me: (leaning forward conspiratorially) It's... in... your... hand.
Her: (seeing the card) You could have just given me this sooner.
Me: I'm sorry. I should have given it to you right away.
Her: (comparing the card to Jack Stiller's entry) Very good, Mr. Stiller.
Please sign here.
At this point, I confess that I was sorely tempted to make sure Jack
Stiller's vote was for Bush and for prohibiting gays from forming
families, then come back later on and use my own ballot. But, truth is, I
know that Bush will win by a huge lead in Missouri, and likewise I am sure
Missourians will continue to believe they should have a say in what goes on
in other people's bedrooms. My vote doesn't actually matter. I'm really only
here to escort my wife to the polls, when we could be doing REAL service by
shuttling voters an hour away in Ohio, where votes count.
Me: I can't sign that.
Her: If you don't sign, I can't give you your ballot.
Me: I'm... not... Jack... Stiller...
Her: (looking at her book) It says Jack Stiller right here.
Me: I'm John Strauss, and this has been an entertaining look at the
electoral process; but I'd like to vote and go home, now.
Her: Why did you say you were Jack Stiller?
Me: (as patiently as I could manage) Please read my driver's license, and
turn thru the pages of your book until you find an entry that matches my
name. I'll sign that, and then you can give me a ballot.
Her: (angry) I know what my job is. Give me your driver's license.
Me: (wordlessly pointing to my license in her hand. I no longer trust myself
to speak.)
It took her another 7 minutes to find my entry. She compared each and every
name to mine, page by page, until she got to Joe Straus, which stumped her
for a good long while. When I began to speak, she GROWLED, stared at the
name a little longer, decided to move on, and then found mine two spaces
lower. She stared at it and the card a good long time, until she was sure
that "John Strauss" was the same as "John Strauss". She gave me my ballot
and my driver's license, and I left the table.
Behind me I heard her say:
"Robert Stroud?"
I kept on walking.
lady whose job it is to determine my identity and hand me my ballot. These
eagle-eyed defenders of the American way have the important task of
preventing voter fraud, on the theory that stringing millions of idiots
together in series will yield good decisions but only if each idiot only
gets one vote.
I stepped up to the desk and silently handed her my driver's license, which
has my legal name on it, right? These may seem like obvious points to you;
but I feel it's important to emphasize:
1) My driver's license clearly lists my name as John Strauss
2) I gave the clerk my driver's license first thing
With my driver's license IN HER HAND, the clerk looked down at her book and
picked the first unused name on the page.
Her: Gary Stiles?
Me: No, my name is John Strauss.
Her: (Looking back down at her book, then back up at me, frowning.) Are you
saying you're NOT Gary Stiles?
Me: That's correct, ma'am. I'm not Gary Stiles.
Her: (brandishing my driver's license with annoyance) Then what IS your
name?
Me: It's John Strauss.
Her: (looking down at her book again, then back up) Jack Stiller?
Me: No. I'm not Jack Stiller.
Her: (deeply annoyed at me) What is your name, please?
Me: John Strauss.
Her: May I see some identification, please?
Me: Would you like to see my driver's license?
Her: A driver's license is fine.
Me: (leaning forward conspiratorially) It's... in... your... hand.
Her: (seeing the card) You could have just given me this sooner.
Me: I'm sorry. I should have given it to you right away.
Her: (comparing the card to Jack Stiller's entry) Very good, Mr. Stiller.
Please sign here.
At this point, I confess that I was sorely tempted to make sure Jack
Stiller's vote was for Bush and for prohibiting gays from forming
families, then come back later on and use my own ballot. But, truth is, I
know that Bush will win by a huge lead in Missouri, and likewise I am sure
Missourians will continue to believe they should have a say in what goes on
in other people's bedrooms. My vote doesn't actually matter. I'm really only
here to escort my wife to the polls, when we could be doing REAL service by
shuttling voters an hour away in Ohio, where votes count.
Me: I can't sign that.
Her: If you don't sign, I can't give you your ballot.
Me: I'm... not... Jack... Stiller...
Her: (looking at her book) It says Jack Stiller right here.
Me: I'm John Strauss, and this has been an entertaining look at the
electoral process; but I'd like to vote and go home, now.
Her: Why did you say you were Jack Stiller?
Me: (as patiently as I could manage) Please read my driver's license, and
turn thru the pages of your book until you find an entry that matches my
name. I'll sign that, and then you can give me a ballot.
Her: (angry) I know what my job is. Give me your driver's license.
Me: (wordlessly pointing to my license in her hand. I no longer trust myself
to speak.)
It took her another 7 minutes to find my entry. She compared each and every
name to mine, page by page, until she got to Joe Straus, which stumped her
for a good long while. When I began to speak, she GROWLED, stared at the
name a little longer, decided to move on, and then found mine two spaces
lower. She stared at it and the card a good long time, until she was sure
that "John Strauss" was the same as "John Strauss". She gave me my ballot
and my driver's license, and I left the table.
Behind me I heard her say:
"Robert Stroud?"
I kept on walking.