Soft Losses?

A final word on the elections...

Well, we can finally put this thing to bed... sort of. We're all tired of the hype - and after last night, no one really cares anymore, excitement has waned. The one thing that really bothers me about being personally shut out at the poles is that I had several high-stakes bets in place that could have generated a great windfall, but the lone stipulation to these wagers was that I would have had to put my money where my mouth is and Vote Hard. Even at two-to-one odds Blumenthal was an easy bet placed with many takers - with or without the ten point spread. This could have easily made up for whats shaping up to be soft losses (9am)  a dead heat (10:30am)  soft losses (1pm) an apparent Democratic WIN (days later) on the Foley/Malloy front.

And of course the biggest failure of the day goes to Prop 19 out in California which lost by some 9 percent. This could have been a strong move for the state to flacidize the underground drug trade and raise tax revenue while unencumbering the legal system and ratifying bad decisions of the past - but does it even matter? The Tea Party is coming to Privatize Government, shouting "Down with Big Government, up with Big Corporate! Anything Goes!" The pot smokers will Run Wild due to the lack of authority. With enough of those loons in office, certain demographics will surely be labeled zombies and the order will go out to shoot them on sight. They've already lead an assault against Bigelow Tea's Charleston Tea Plantation in Wadmalaw Island, South Carolina, dumping all the tea into the Wadmalaw Sound. It's a mixed message at best.

I Inadvertently Voted Unicorn

Flacid, weak, shamefull apathy vote...

So the scene was exactly as I had anticipated - bedlam, mayhem, violence. Sign holding party members wrestling on the ground in the grips of their own brutal ideals. Voters of every party shouting and biting each other. I used stealth to slip by the anarchy and entered Newington Town Hall, my poling place.

Upon entering, they made me remove my shoes and asked for my street name at gunpoint. I thought this a little extreme, but dared not point it out because the person on the other end of the barrel was a teenage girl, and you don't want to rile them up.

After asking for my papers, the girl referenced her list and found that I wasn't on it. I knew in my heart that I was a goner - I was sure I would be relegated to the pile of bodies in the back of the building. I could see the sense of betrayal in her eyes. She called her boss over; a large man with shotgun resting on his shoulder. I tried to explain; "I've since moved, maybe I shouldn't be here..." I barely escaped with my life.

I attempted again in New Britain, the only city where I've ever successfully cast a vote. It was a similar scene with a similar reaction, only in here there was a strange little man obsessively pushing a tiny button on the wall mumbling something about "...every two hours..."

So I fucked up. I failed to register to vote in my town - I foolishly assumed that this information was electronic and ethereal like every other little tidbit of information Big Brother gathers. But this all leaves me with an ethical dilemma... I put forth due diligence to no avail, so for the next two years have I earned the right to complain?