Keep me from voting- or, The story of how I think my district almost got their asses sued off by me.
BY: me (duh?)
I remember the last presidential election quite vividly. I was excited, wearing my hippy jeans and pink hairdo and a big ol anti bush button, just in case I could sway anyone who saw me at the polls. Now, I had to leave work early so I could vote before the polls closed, so when I got to my polling location I had about 15 minutes to do my thing. I should point out at this time that my polling place, as the other polling places in my area, are run by older, conservative Republicans. I looked far from an older, conservative Republican on that day. I wasn't too concerned, until I got up to the little folding table and was informed by someone who did not even look at the sheet that I was at the wrong place. I was pretty certain it was the right place, however I like old people so I assumed I was mistaken, and drove 5 minutes down the road to the polling place they directed me to. The old people at this polling place were much nicer, and triple verified that I had, in fact, been at the correct polling place the first time. So, I do 60 in a 35 mph zone back to the other polling place, where they continue to insist I am at the wrong place. I like old people, I was trying to be nice, but eventually my patience ran out. So I snatched their little book and quickly located my name in, and proceeded to raise 5 kinds of hell. The last kind of hell I raised evidently worked, because at 1 minute before closing they conceded and let me vote. I'm sure voter suppression shouldn't exist in this day and age, but after that experience I really have to wonder. Like, really have to wonder. Were they so threatened at the harm my one vote could do? Or did they not like my pink hair? Maybe it was the jeans? Should I not have work that button after all? The world may never know.
BY: me (duh?)
I remember the last presidential election quite vividly. I was excited, wearing my hippy jeans and pink hairdo and a big ol anti bush button, just in case I could sway anyone who saw me at the polls. Now, I had to leave work early so I could vote before the polls closed, so when I got to my polling location I had about 15 minutes to do my thing. I should point out at this time that my polling place, as the other polling places in my area, are run by older, conservative Republicans. I looked far from an older, conservative Republican on that day. I wasn't too concerned, until I got up to the little folding table and was informed by someone who did not even look at the sheet that I was at the wrong place. I was pretty certain it was the right place, however I like old people so I assumed I was mistaken, and drove 5 minutes down the road to the polling place they directed me to. The old people at this polling place were much nicer, and triple verified that I had, in fact, been at the correct polling place the first time. So, I do 60 in a 35 mph zone back to the other polling place, where they continue to insist I am at the wrong place. I like old people, I was trying to be nice, but eventually my patience ran out. So I snatched their little book and quickly located my name in, and proceeded to raise 5 kinds of hell. The last kind of hell I raised evidently worked, because at 1 minute before closing they conceded and let me vote. I'm sure voter suppression shouldn't exist in this day and age, but after that experience I really have to wonder. Like, really have to wonder. Were they so threatened at the harm my one vote could do? Or did they not like my pink hair? Maybe it was the jeans? Should I not have work that button after all? The world may never know.
The last presidential race was full of a lot of dark little deals and tampering. I still maintain that Bush has never won a presidential election.