I love voting, because it gives me the right to bitch. And because I can. I will never understand apathy in this situation; it is very frustrating to hear the myriad excuses that many people my age and younger have for not voting. I just don’t get it.
But I love voting in my particular neighborhood. Without going into personal detail, I will illustrate why I feel like a blue hitchhiker on the wrong side of the red tracks.
This is what the list of names in my precinct looked like (I had time to sneak a peek as they checked me in):
Your Mom: REPUBLICAN
Your Dad: REPUBLICAN
Your Hippie Cousin: INDEPENDENT
Jo Pinionated: DEMOCRAT
Joe Schmo: REPUBLICAN
Mrs. Joe Schmo: REPUBLICAN
Joe Schmo’s Elderly Father: REPUBLICAN
Not only that, but there was a very large stack of empty democratic ballots gathering dust with only two hours left until closing time.
Look, I love our house. It just so happens that we bought a home in a quiet suburb where no one else looks like k.d. lang.
That being said, after I left the polls I came across three women holding Obama signs, and of course I had to go talk to them.
Me: “Ladies, I just want to say how refreshing it is to see liberals out here in this town. It’s a rare sight.”
Ladies: “We drove in from Oakland.”
So there you go.
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