Voting, Not a Privilege, A Curse.

As is normally the case, I filled out my ballot and mailed it in. Long lines filled with politically enthused people are a curse, and this election is probably going to be above average in rabid, politically charged clown attendance. I have to vote, because my wife makes me. I could turn my back on the whole process and walk away smiling, but for my wife.

As usual, I voted my beliefs, and my conscience, and what limited knowledge that can be gathered from the politically slanted news, magazines, newspapers, and television. And it was pretty easy, at the top, the candidates for most of the election were pretty clearly divided, and I could always find one that less odious than the other.

But, then came the judges. What do I know about judges? At the tender age of fifty seven it has been years since I have even seen a real judge (there was a young man who played on my son's basketball team, and his mother was a judge, very polite, and kind, so that was a vote that I was extremely comfortable casting). What gives me the right to choose who should have the power over such decisions. What if I choose the wrong person, what if I vote for the "hanging judge"? I can''t take that kind of pressure.

And coroner, what do I know about hiring a coroner? What if I elect the "hanging judge" and a sloth with a drinking problem for coroner? You never see commercials for coroner. Elect Bob for Coroner, he is not a lazy drunkard, like his opponent." No, you just have to fill in the little circle blindly, trusting to fate.

It won't take long for the streets to be lined with corpses waiting for disposition, piling up like sandbags before a flood, the stench will be unbearable. Not to mention it will be a real deterrent to the food trucks that are becoming so popular.
 And it will be my fault.

Oh, how I hate democracy.