The disorientated octogenarians supervising my polling place had set up two lines according to the first letter of voters’ last names: one for letters A through O and the other for letters P through Z. Please note that this is not an equal division of the alphabet. That might seem like a subtle detail, but it effectively forced me to wait in the backlogged A through O line for 50 minutes while the second line was brisk and frequently empty. As a final insult, when I’d at last advanced to within three spots of receiving my ballot, the woman operating the second line suddenly had a revelation and summoned over everybody with the last names K through Z. This allowed me to move up two spots, but it made me not want to vote so much as to kill.
I voted on everything, whether it was for a state senator or for the pathetic state treasurer. This is despite the fact that I have no idea what a state treasurer does, let alone the actually identity of the people vying for the position. In my mind they’re tasked with guarding a giant treasure chest filled with gold coins and bejeweled lamps, and they frequently take Scrooge McDuck-like dives into the chest to swim a few laps, but that can’t be right. How do you vote for a treasurer when you couldn’t possibly care who wins? I could have left that part of my ballot empty, but I wanted maximum value for waiting in such a needlessly long line. Eventually I just decided to use the strategy I’d devised in 2000, which is to pick candidates for supplementary positions based on my overall opinion of their names. I think most people would admit to doing this. If somebody named Gonzo McBoolin ran for state treasurer, he would win in a landslide. He could be a convicted bank robberer, and I wouldn’t care. I would trust somebody like Gonzo McBoolin to guard Michigan’s bountiful treasure.
And how about the results of the presidential election, hey guys? Go USA, am I right? OK, well, I’ve got to go. I think I just choked on some of my own blood.