Happy Election Day from me and my basement apartment (which, if you look closely, you can tell is currently half-torn up, because Hurricane Sandy alerted me to a big ole’ stockpile of black mold hiding in my walls and baseboards, which explains why I had Bronchitis, on top of a sinus infection, on top of tonsillitis, for about three months last winter).
I was 19th in line this morning at my polling place, at about 5:30am, and somebody let me borrow the flashlight attached to their e-reader so I could read over the sample ballots we were handed by volunteer teenagers as we waited outside. In the next five-to-10 minutes, the line had already quadrupled. Since this was my first time voting at a polling place (instead of with an absentee ballot), it was a very lovely and patriotic sight. The couple in line behind me were vehement Romney supporters, but I think any Democrats were too distracted by what the 30-degree weather was doing to their glove-less hands to be offended. I did bring my gloves, but I generally can’t feel any emotions before 7:00am, so I started singing “Yankee Doddle Dandy” in my head while remembering that tonight is the first night in months that I’ll be able to watch “Jeopardy” without having to sit through 20-some campaign-related commercials. I’ll take “Annoying Election-Year Practices” for 800, Alex.
As it was during our last presidential election, America continues to fight its War on Terror. This year, however, the election has alerted me to a new war. A civil war. A war on trees, and a war on my mailbox. In the form of:
I’m a registered voter in Virginia, and I am apparently on the mailing list of people-who-can-be-swayed-by-good-font-choices. Well, the joke’s on you, campaign mailing lists, because you chose to send me a lot of ads featuring heavily-serifed fonts, and I hate serifs.
I received so many mailed campaign ads/pamphlets/brochures, in fact, that my roommates and I started making a shrine to them on one of our walls. Here is a sampling.
According to the ads I received, the radio and television commercials I’ve witnessed, and the people who stand by my metro exit shouting at commuters during rush hour, if either candidate wins, the next four years will be unbearable. That in mind, I’ve decided to spend my last bearable day for several years eating leftover Halloween candy and painting my nails with sparkly patriotic polishes. Proud to be an American.
Voting is a personal decision, and I know many people who exercise their right to vote by choosing not to vote (for various reasons, many of which I understand completely). So even if you don’t vote today, take a moment to appreciate your right to make that choice, and to appreciate the people who have fought (and continue to fight) for your right to make it.