I finally dragged my arse over to the yellow-y high school and voted. I loathe going because of the gauntlet of bouncer-type ward cretins who verbally assault you (they would call it electioneering) on the way to the polling place. But school had just let out and everyone was under 20 years of age. Each and every high school girl on the north side, by the way, has a short black parka that skims the waist (the better to show off the arse) and is topped by a fake fur-trimmed hood.
Sitting behind the counter inside was the Walkin' Man (a spindly gent who walks around the neighborhood year round and reminds me of an older Martin Sheen, only with uneven legs rather than arms). A middle-aged black woman with a Betty Boop voice showed me how to use the giant, game show-size ballots we're now using instead of the old human scale hanging-chad punch cards.
As I blacked in my choices, the salsa and circus music blaring from the adjacent auditorium competed for aural supremacy against the shrill, fake-sweet voice of a mom who was far more interested in socializing her todder than questions such as whether the state should ban the manufacture and sale of assault weapons: "Who's a good girl? Are you a good girl? GOOOOOOOOOOOOD GIRL!!" vs "Da-da, da-da-da-da-da, da-da-da-da-da, DA-DA-DA-DA-DA..."
In the end the circus music won out. It always does.
Apart from the usual races there were at least 50 judges to deal with. For some reason the general public in Illinois must decide whether or not to retain judges. Like we have a clue. It's like letting retards, er, the mentally impaired, do god's job for a day. Luckily I had printed out a list of losers and keepers supplied to me via Dexter. But I nearly lost my eyesight squinting at the long list of names in the dim light. As I voted I realized that my usual strategy -- when in doubt, keep the women and minorities and toss out The Man -- was completely wrongheaded. Oops.
We also got to decide whether the state should pull the troops out of Iraq -- that was a hard one -- and if it should raise the minimum wage to six-dollars-and-change. There was no place to write in a higher amount.
But I did write in a felon for sherrif.