People HATE to be lied to. You lie to them, you piss them off.
And an awful lot of people out there (at least half the country if you believe the polls) have figured out that the Bush Administration had lied to them about something. It may have been the march to Iraq. Or maybe it was the tax cuts. Or maybe it was something during the debates.
But the point is this: at least half the country figured out Bush was lying his ass off about something over the past four years.
There's only one thing that people hate MORE than being lied to.
It's when someone claims they didn't lie when you know damn well they did and when you call them on it, you're the one who's crazy. Or mean. Or hateful.
That's how you really piss people off. Piss them off enough that they're willing to stand in line for hours just to get the chance to deliver a good swift kick in the ass.
Yeah. I'm a-hoping for the bitchslap heard 'round the world sometime in the early a.m. I'll be glued to television and obsessing over Blue and Red states.
And although I know I won't get it: I want to see Bush crying like a girl on international television when he gives his concession speech.
However, I'll settle for just the concession speech, kthnx.
Anyway, I overslept this morning and didn't get to my polling place at the grammar school until 8:05 a.m. (EST). The line was--eeeeep--hella long and snaking out into the parking lot. You could see well-dressed singles and couples tromping to the end of the line looking grim and determined.
No one was checking their watch.
Anyway, I could see ponders_life's Sweetie way ahead of (he was at least in the gym) and when he looked my way I waved. He waved back, but the line was too long to talk.
So, as I got into the building, I was assured by the election commission lady that I was in the right line for my precinct and ward (It's called 7-1). I looked sadly at the (nonexistent) line for the neighboring ward (That would be called 7-2) and waited patiently.
So, I get to check in and see the line just to get your ballot in the box. [insert slight hysterical scream at length] The school's PTO was doing the smart thing and running a breakfast-y bake sale to the tired and hungry voters.
Anyway, when they check my street address...
You're supposed to be in the really, really short line.
[Cue cheer with a sense of irritation]
So, I go, and vote. It was for about seven political offices, three of which were uncontested. No ballot questions. I check out, drop my ballot in the box, and run into ponders_life Sweetie on the way out.
I noted that it took me a half-hour to vote and that I probably should've been there at seven. Turned out that he'd been there at 7 and at the ripe hour of 8:30 he was leaving.
Holy crap! We're talking an hour-and-a-half to vote. In Massachusetts.
There's nothing like a pissed-off electorate, I think.
So, my final plea (Like I haven't been lunatic-y all week about this):
If you run into trouble while trying to vote or if someone challenges your right to vote, remember your Voting Rights and have the Emergency Phone Numbers on hand.
My goal is to win us a really boring next four years.