Adaptive Curmudgeon

It’s a sunny day at Curmudgeon Compound.  Squirrels are running around the oaks like the little maniacs they are.  The wood supply is ample enough that I can sit on my ass instead of attacking the cord or so that’s lying around waiting for “post-processing” (i.e. the wood splitter of doom).  The coffee was good this morning and tonight’s beer will be cold.  I just ate a meal of venison burgers and chocolate chip cookies.  The chickens have been unusually productive.  Our two turkeys, “Thanksgiving” and “Christmas”, are strutting around without the slightest clue what the calendar holds.  The chickadees (my favorite for birdwatching) are in high spirits.  Life is good.

I say this all to explain why I decided to re-consider my dismissive Any Rand post of yesterday.  Who can fret over a generator on a glorious day like today?  More to the point had I let my paranoia get in the way of a legitimate idea?  It could have been all in my head.  What sane person would have really stopped me from delivering generators to a people in need?

So I turned to the Internet to either prove or disprove my thesis.  I found three articles in ten minutes (the first of which specifically mentioned generators):

1. “The attorney general said his office has received hundreds of complaints from consumers in areas of the state hit hardest by Sandy – New York City, the Hudson Valley and Long Island… consumers also have reported possible gouging for emergency supplies like generators… General business law prohibits such increases in costs of essential items like food, water, gas, generators, batteries and flashlights, and services like transportation…”
2. “Before Sandy made landfall, the attorney general had issued an open letter to vendors across the state warning them that price inflation of necessary goods and services during a crisis is illegal.”
3. “Today’s action is the first in a series of steps my office will take as we continue to actively investigate the hundreds of complaints we’ve received from consumers of businesses preying on victims of Hurricane Sandy…”

How about that?  I can almost feel the hate.  Especially the first quote which specifically mentions generators.  Then I found this one which seemed particularly topical:

At one Sam’s Club store in Manchester, Conn., some customers complained that generators priced at $349 two weeks ago suddenly cost $999 as the storm approached, said Laura Lavoie, a nearby resident who visited that store Sunday.

“People were buying them and complaining about it,” she said. “One guy stormed out while we were walking in. … The guy said his wife wouldn’t let him buy (the same generator) three weeks ago when it was $349 and now he can’t afford to buy it.”

A spokesman for Wal-Mart, which owns Sam’s Club, said the store ran out of the lower-priced generator, a 3,600-watt model, and was forced to substitute the more expensive 7,000-watt unit.

“At no time did we raise the price of either model of generator in anticipation of, during, or following the storm,” said spokesman Mark Scott.

Isn’t that precious?  A $349 generator isn’t worth your time when the power is on but a $999 one is too expensive when the power is already off?

I can’t help but love the irony.  One sentence has a very special unicorn logic that wraps around stupid and goes all the way to pure comedy gold: “People were buying them and complaining about it”.

Can you imagine that?  People are voluntarily doing something and then bitching because it was necessary.  Suppose all hell has broken loose and there is one and only one thing that’ll make your life better.  It’s a specially built machine that can turn your house from a blackout to a semblance of normal.  It’s as if all of the industrial revolution is packaged into a lawnmower sized contraption specifically meant to solve your problem.  The store has exactly that machine.  It’s in stock and sitting there.  It’s waiting just for you, the lucky consumer, to purchase… right now, at the exact moment in all recorded history when you specifically want it.  Nobody’s holding a gun to your head.  You can walk out that door any time.  You voluntarily buy this special mechanical thing which can perform the special miracle you need right now.  (Incidentally, buying stuff is the purpose of cash.  Just in case you thought it was for some other reason that you go to work.)

You’ve got power.  Right now.  Wherever you want.  Whenever you want.  Ta da!

But now you, because you’re extra groovy important to the universe, do the super double nosedive into bullshit land; you complain because it “should be cheaper”.  It was cheaper.  When the lights were on.  You, clever being that you are, specifically chose not to buy it when the lights were on.  You wanted Sam’s Club to warehouse it for you in the off chance that some random time you might feel like wanting it.  Isn’t that great?

I lack that level of hubris.  If the power’s off and $999 puts it back on I’d be happy as a pig in shit to have my margarita blender up and running.  I’d be thankful!

Being thankful requires that one be humble, honest, and accept the world as it is.  Sometimes life sucks.  Bad shit hurts.  It’s no fun when the power goes down.  Nobody likes earthquakes, tornadoes, storms, war, famine, disease, or telemarketers.  But you pick your ass up and do what you can with the resources at hand.  When things look dire you might just have to bleed a little cash.  It takes galactic self absorption to deny that.  It takes a child in an adult’s role to piss on the people who have the stuff to solve problems, because they have the stuff to solve problems.  That’s why a lot of us rednecks are more than happy to laugh at cities.  Nobody would give a tin shit if we all died in a blizzard but cities invite their own despair and then act like toddlers when it happens.

In the immortal (crudely paraphrased) words of John Gault; fuck ’em.

The local hardware store just got a shipment of fine new generators.  Nice Hondas.  The quiet/efficient ones that are a cool and sleek counterpoint to the loathsome over-revved rattletraps that box stores crap out.  There were about a dozen lined up (a huge stock for my rural area!).  The price seemed fair.

I want one!  I lust for a Honda generator like other men lust for a Ferrari.  (Homesteaders are just as materialistic as anyone else.  I may scoff at a new iPhone but if you mess with my woodsplitter you’re going to die.)

Sadly I’m cheap.  I prefer money in my pocket to a new generator.  We all must make choices.

This got me to thinking about folks who need a generator far more than myself.  Lucky I’m not that screwed!  Aren’t there a bunch of folks penned up in NYC that are still wanting for power?  Imagine the horror of warm beer!  Last I knew they were protesting and bitching about FEMA and engaging in other time wasting activities to express their displeasure.  If I were in their shoes (which would never happen) I’d buy one of those Hondas no matter what the price.  I’d have it faster than you can say “smoking credit card” and never look back.

I suspect the supply of generators in Sandy’s wake is a mite slim.  Hmmm…  Soon I was scheming.

The price looked fair, there was ample stock, I’ve got a big ass truck, a criminally high credit limit, and a hankering for a road trip.  I’m not above “adventure” and the hardware store has a good return policy.  I could buy a bunch of these babies and deliver them to some poor slobs locked in the city.  Hopefully I’d swing enough profit to cover my time and fuel.  If, for some reason, New Yorkers would rather freeze in the dark than pay cash for a generator I’d return them to the store for a full refund.  I’m always willing to risk a tank of gas on a stupid idea.

Why  not?

If I added a couple hundred per unit to cover costs and another 10% I could get me one of those magic red power makers by delivering/selling ten.  Right now there’s a market of people who lack the technology to make beer cold.  Win win!

You know where this is going.  Reality set in.  There’s a modern word that’s routinely misused when someone adds a couple hundred per unit to cover custom delivery to the middle of a FEMA clusterfuck; price gouging.  And selling without a permit.  Without Union labor.  Etc…  In 2012 engaging in legal but informal trade is, paradoxically, de-facto illegal.

People who can’t legally buy a large soda sure as hell aren’t going to have the freedom to greet me and a truck full of generators.  They’re too busy protesting, or suffering, or whatever people who are locked in a city do when the lights go out.

I got in my truck and drove home.  I had a cold beer by the warm fire and thanked my lucky stars I’m not some Mayor’s pet.  As I post this I presume a bunch of city dwellers are still sitting in the dark.  That sucks but they’ve got to live in the cage they built and this particular redneck, who could help, isn’t going to deal with the drama.

See?  I just explained Ayn Rand’s Atlas Shrugged in 600 words.

Don’t laugh!  Everything short of getting kicked in the nuts has a positive side.  Here comes, in no particular order, my “glass is half full” reflections on the election itself:

• I was wrong.  I really thought Romney was going to pull it off.  I like surprises.  Even if it’s a bad one like finding a snake in your hat.
• The polls were right.  I was pretty sure a phone poll in 2012 was the most outdated and ridiculous way to measure public opinion imaginable.  I compared it to driving a Model T through a fog bank to a Tarot Card reader.  I was wrong.  Somehow, even when it took something on the order of eleven calls to get one highly suspect and biased answer, they got it right.  Impressive.
• It was beyond the margin of cheat.  I really like elections where one person honestly wins.  The Big O did just that.  None of the recent horseshit with hanging chads and Al Franken recounts.  Well done.  Further, aside from the innumerate yahoos in Florida, most states managed to count without screwing up.  I didn’t want another round of politicians and lawyers performing unnatural acts in my democratic republic.
• It was a contested election.  Until sunset on the last day nobody really knew who would win.  That’s good!
• Bitching about racism is getting boring.  Our nation of free citizens elected and re-elected a black president.  Even my dog knows it’s time to let it go.  Aside from people who make a living by inciting racism, America is incrementally turning it into a moot point.
• Bitching about religion is getting boring.  When politics goes far enough to the left you get folks who aren’t merely “not religious” but they go full retard and become vehemently, aggressively,  rabidly, anti-religious.  They lose their shit over piddly details like Christmas nativity scenes and wouldn’t vote for an overtly pious person even if their Prius begged them to.  When politics go far enough to the right you meet snake handlers who consult the Old Testament  about the correct choice for breakfast cereal.  They lose their shit over gays and wouldn’t vote for a non-believer if the guy was the greatest choice in a century.  The rest of us watched an election between two very different religious world views and didn’t flake out because of the contrast.  One smokes, drinks, and swears, and (in deed if not word) appears more or less unaffected by religion.  The other does not smoke, drink, or swear, and is so morally upright he makes Mr. Rogers look like the Hell’s Angels.  Both men had a good chance at winning and racked up significant numbers of votes.  It’s good that Americans pondered diametrically oppositional religious world views without losing perspective.
• Romney was squeaky clean.  Romney, regardless of his loss, was the first politician I’ve seen in years that didn’t have a skeleton in his closet (and the press sure looked for one).  It seems like nobody in D.C. can get though life without cheating on their taxes (or their wife) or some other dastardly behavior.  It feels good to know that at least one person has trod the straight and narrow and still made a good run for the presidency.
• Once you’re thrown out of the plane; incentives to understand the parachute become unstoppable.  Many of us have been forced to spend the last couple of years sitting on decisions because things, no matter how bad it looked, might be partially reversible.  No longer.  Planning for (and acting in reaction to) whatever shenanigans our government has cooked up can now begin in earnest.  Here’s one example; now that Obamacare is as unkillable as the living dead we will adapt.  Perhaps businesses will carefully stay under a certain numbers of employees or schedule them below certain thresholds of work hours.  Perhaps medical students will tweak their studies.  Perhaps we’ll all re-examine our health care choices and options.  Regardless of your politics waiting has no upside.  It’s now a matter of logistics and economics.  Abandoning hope for a better situation means we can get busy adapting to what we’ve got.  As you construct your personal lifeboat you’re better served knowing the manner in which you’re getting flushed.  Everyone reading this blog (including my dog) should be making adjustments based on the information gleaned last week.
• Whistling past the graveyard is done.  Ignoring looming issues is for children and fools.  I endeavor to stack wood when it’s sunny and intend to feel smug when the inevitable blizzard arrives.  During the election most of the Nation took a break from reality; much to the annoyance of this particular ant who gets tired of the company of grasshoppers.  We’ll that’s done for good.  Try this example on for size; before the election, everything economic was peachy keen and it made perfect sense to use statistics that ignored every unemployed person in California.  Today I heard the word “fiscal cliff” 28 separate times in one radio show.   (NPR if you must ask.)  The “cliff” was created on August 2nd, 2011 by the Budget Control Act of 2011.  It became acceptable to discuss it in public on November 7th, 2012.  That’s fifteen months of ignoring the lit fuse!  Now that Obama’s pet press has finished the coronation of their lord and master they have come to the surface for air.  Reality is clubbing them like the baby seals that they are.  (Oh…. I like that metaphor!)  Not everyone thinks denial is a legitimate state for an adult and folks like me welcome the rest of the crowd as they sample the air in this new environment called reality.

Back in 2008 America elected a fellow I thought both unqualified and damaging.  I was terribly disappointed; not in McCain for losing but for America for making what I considered an epically bad decision.  Shortly thereafter I read A momentous event that puts the Presidential race in perspective by Dave Duffy.  I filed that article in my head for future reference.  Then I redoubled my efforts to live as well as I could possibly live; if not accepting the slow motion innately predictable disaster going down in D.C. at least adapting to it.

Now, four years later, the same scoundrel has won another election.  I’m, once again, disappointed.  I honestly thought America had bottomed out and was looking to respond with a different path.  I was wrong.  On the other hand, I never expected his challenger to do much.  One man, no matter how earnest, cannot put an entire Nation back on track if the Nation doesn’t wish it.  So the failed attempt of 2012 doesn’t sting so much.  I’ve come to suspect that debts and “fiscal cliffs” and whatnot were (and continue to be) amassed by a people who simply must play things out to their forgone conclusion.  I’d rather not see us all take the ride but that is the apparent way of things.

Back to the wise words of Dave Duffy.

I see the Presidential election as a temporary spectacle like the Superbowl. Everybody is talking about it, but in the end it’s relatively meaningless, at least when compared to youngsters like Jake gearing up to solve the world’s problems.

It is a sad commentary on our times, I think, that so many people disagree with me on this matter. They think electing either Obama or McCain is one of the most critical decisions of their lifetime. They think it will dictate the future of America. It is a “group” mentality that has been fostered over many years by the colossus that makes up America’s large political and bureaucratic establishment.

Well, I’ve got news for you. If you think getting a certain politician elected is going to favorably affect your life, you’re in for a disappointment. Only you paying attention to the details of your own life will favorably affect your future. It doesn’t matter worth a damn who becomes President.

Dave is right.  As a group, our Nation isn’t going to deal with reality until reality is finished dealing with us.  Individually the story is much brighter.  We each have the option to choose to live every day in the best way we can.  I’ve tried to remember Dave’s little hint whenever some blockhead in a suit lies to me from behind a podium.  It works.  Politically, things are a mess but the things I control in my little life are going about as well as I can manage.  It’s a relief and it’s probably something that should have been obvious to me all along.  Good luck folks.

A.C.

P.S.  Once a newshound, I’ve pretty much given up on most print media.  I derive more joy watching my chickens crap on the lawn.  The single exception is Backwoods Home Magazine. It’s the only subscription I still maintain.

I wrote earlier that my mailbox harvested so much negative campaign pamphlets against a rather unassuming incumbent that I’d decided to vote for him. Later, even more negative pamphlets against the guy arrived and I wrote:

“I have revised my earlier support for candidate A.  I’m was going to vote for him.  Now I’m going to build a shrine to him.”

Today, against all impulses to the contrary, I checked my mail.  I had fourteen political ads!  Holy crap.

Here’s the count:

• Unrelated to Candidate A: 4 fliers.
• Related to Candidate A’s opponent: 2 negative and 2 positive.  The two positive cards were to the exact same person and address and were the exact same flier.  There’s nothing I want in a politician more than the ability to waste twice as much money to send the same redundant message twice!  I bow to the extra special level of dipshit I see in that kind of management!
• Related to Candidate A: 1 positive (from the candidate himself) and 4 negative:

I summarize the negatives below:

“Candidate A cut a particular program for the elderly.  You’re going to get old.  You’re going to  die.  Alone.  Because funding was cut.  Are you listening?  You’re going to die old and alone.  On November 7th.  They’re going to make you into Soylent Green.  You deserve it for supporting that evil bastard!”

“Candidate A supports big corporations.  The only purpose of a big corporation is to ship jobs overseas.  Did you know that?  People build big corporations and the only reason they do it is so they can ship jobs overseas.  Because they’re monsters that’s why!  Also he took money from the schools.  He just put on a black mask and grabbed a pistol and took that money right out of the hands of third graders.  And he started a corporation and made some jobs and put the jobs in little boxes and mailed them overseas.”

“Candidate A made local municipalities pay for the stuff that local municipalities want.    And that’s just wrong.  It’s wrong like setting fire to kittens.”

“Candidate A took money from schools and made it into tax loopholes for corporations that send American jobs overseas.” (This one is almost word for word.  I’d make a joke but… how?)  The front of the card had a whole lot more: “I’m candidate B.  The only thing I’m going to do is take that money the bastard took and gave to the companies that ship jobs overseas and I’m going to bring it back to schools.  I might use a wheel barrow to carry it.  Also here’s a picture of me with my family.  And there’s a little kid on the margin.  Aren’t kids cute?  Did you notice that I dressed in the family picture just like my butler says idiots at Wal-mart can relate to?  I’ve got a camouflage jacket and a hat.  I’m just like you unwashed peons.  And did you see that next to me there’s a picture of coffee and a donut.  Next to that bastard Candidate A there’s champagne and caviar.  Because when you hit a school with a brick and take it’s money and give it to a corporation that exists for no other reason than to ship jobs in little boxes to someplace stupid like not-America then they give you caviar.  Also nobody drinks champagne but big fat-cat jerks.  Not like me.  I eat donuts.  Please for the love of God vote for me!”

There you have it.  Candidate A can sleep in tomorrow.  He’s got it in the bag!  Anyone that generates literally dozens of negative ads sent to my irrelevant little farmhouse is going keep winning elections until the end of time.  (Partly because his opponents seem intent on bankrupting themselves.)  He’s got my vote and I’m going to name my most beloved possession after him.  I shall henceforth no longer cut firewood with a Stihl.  I shall now be cutting firewood with a Candidate A!

I recently mentioned that my telephone, which should ring no more than once a fortnight, is ringing off the hook.  It’s entirely calls from mindless political drones, ignorant political robots, and an occasional innocent machine mistreated by political drones and robots.  Plus several calls where I got to be one of the ten sane people who hang up on pollsters for every moron that speaks to them.  (How can a phone poll in 2012 be anything other than anachronistic?)

I also mentioned that it was mostly one sided.

6. I feel a little unbalanced.  Almost like some minimum wage / volunteer Republican flunky should call so I can rudely hang up on him too.  So far the stupid party hasn’t been that stupid.  Well played sirs!

Of course they’re not called the stupid party for nothing.  Three calls today… each from the Republicans.  Here’s how it went:

Call #1

“Hello this is the local Republican party asking you to vote tomorrow…”

“I sure am.  I’m gonna’ vote me a new Obamaphone.  Did you know Romney is in league with the NRA and they want everyone to own machine guns and rape trees?”

“Well sir I don’t think….”

“Free phone!  Yahoo!”  (Click)

Call #2

“Hello this is the supporters of candidate Z asking you to vote for him and also the whole party line…”

“Oh god no!  I’m a gay vegan yoga instructor and the thought of you snake handling wierdos in power makes me weep on the dash of my Prius.  Did I mention I’m gay.  Really extra gay.  I’m going to find out where you live and get married there.”

“It’s not like that.  We’re inclusive of all…”

“I’m going to get married to my pet lizard.  In a pagan ceremony.  In the park.  At full moon.  Naked.”

“Uhhhh…”

(Click…I couldn’t think of any more and the poor guy was too earnest to lie to him any more.)

Call #3

“This is the state Republican party reminding you to vote…”

“Vote?  When?”

“Tomorrow.  The election is tomorrow.”

“Good grief how the time does fly.”

“So you’re undecided?”

“Yep!  Who do you think I should vote for?”

(This got the guy really excited.)

“Well I’m happy to tell you that…”

“You see I had no idea there was an election…”

“But I’m trying to tell you that…”

“Because I haven’t been outside since March…”

“But you can still vote…”

“And I was dropped on my head…”

“I can help you register…”

“And I’ve been in a coma.  And living in a cave.  And I don’t have a radio, or TV, or computer….  And I can’t read.  And I haven’t spoken to another person in years.”

“Sir?  You’re messing with me aren’t you?”

“You’re a bright boy.  You should get a better job…”

“I’m a volunteer.”

“…with better pay.”

(There was a pause on the other end of the line and a sigh.  I think I’d broken his young idealistic heart.  But he didn’t give up.)

“Well perhaps I can ask who you’re voting for?”

“You can certainly ask.”

(Another sigh.)  “And you’re not going to tell me.”

“Excellent deduction.  Now say thank you and hang up before I’m forced to taunt you a second time.”

“Uhh…  Thank you?”

“And thank you too!  Next time we meet, which should be never, I hope you’re getting paid to work.  Also Merry Christmas!”  (Click.)

Sometimes you get precisely what you need but the road there can be ugly.  I think, in many ways, large and small, America is getting it’s shit together; and I’m pleased to see it traverse that ugly road.

Here’s what gave me that happy thought; in a moment of weakness I pondered a local (State) constitutional amendment.  I’ve been desperately avoiding election news (which is a lot like living in 1970’s L.A. and avoiding smog).  I’ve also been trying to avoid writing “just in time” posts because this will all be a moot point tomorrow.  (Though in the long term it’s very important).  But I’m giving in to weakness on this particular idea; that America’s system was intended to be self correcting and we are seeing it play out in real time technicolor.

No, I’m not talking about the content free narcissistic mirror who dropped out of space with less backstory than a b-grade novel to sweep the 2008 elections.  Nor am I talking about the squeaky clean semi-RINO pinhead who wishes to supplant him.  I’m talking about votes.  More specifically; counting them.

Back in the stone age when phones had rotors and I had hair, it was generally accepted that presidential votes were mostly, sorta’, with caveats, fair.  Everyone knew that Chicago was rigged (and water is wet) and Americans will cheat when they can.  Somehow it didn’t amount to much.  Nobody worried that Hoover got to be president by hosing the naive challenger Alfred Emanual Smith by recounting 1,600 hanging chads in Florida six times.  It just didn’t play that way; Americans could damn well count.  It was something we were proud of.  That’s why America went apeshit on Nixon.  Our nation was willing to elect an evil scheming bastard but we weren’t willing to tolerate the idea that he spied (not fixed votes mind you… just spied) illegally on his opponents.  We found out and kicked his sorry ass to the curb.

We played hard but the rules of the game were fixed in advance.  Then, gradually, we turned into big whining pussies.  Well not all of us, but a significant number.  We got in the habit of “determining voter intent”, “interpreting the uproariously named ‘hanging chad'”, and trying to make sure nobody, no matter how clueless and disconnected, could vote.

One of our two shitty parties turned this into their home court advantage.  The other shitty party bent over and let it happen.  It is now commonly accepted by folks on the right that their members must win not merely in fact but a few extra points to avert “the margin of cheat”.  They are dead certain that in any very close race there will be a recount.  And every recount is a chance to cheat.  And every cheated recount always goes one way.  The script is always the same.  A couple boxes of highly democratic ballots will turn up in the back seat of a 1974 Buick parked in a back alley in the most statistically crucial voting district.  The box will be filled with strange ballots seemingly originating from undocumented Bolivian indigents who live under a bridge, haven’t driven a car (legally), never filled out a job application (which requires ID) or paid taxes or rented a video or bought Sudafed or got a fishing license or basically done anything anywhere at all.  They’ll have voted for Mickey Mouse or all of the above or maybe not actually have finished the selection; but if you squint your eyes just right and wish real hard; 89% of them voted for the nearest Democrat.

Being a numbers oriented guy the empirical evidence is that there’s a cheat going on.  Being an American I want the count to result in an irreversible, final, and indisputable decision; up or down, win or lose, right damn now and no bullshit.  Nobody cares what I intended to write on a tax form or lottery ticket purchase.  In all things non-recount what you wrote is what you wrote and if you blew it then no soup for you!  Elections decided on hazy subjective intent deduced by Ouija boards and hope fill me with disgust.  It’s corrosive to our nation.  The party that wins that way knows deep in their heart what they’ve done and act exactly like the insecure little whiners that they’ve become.  The party robbed of that which they honestly earned loses hope and become (understandably) irritable.

Why am I saying this?  Because last week I drove through an ignorable little piece of frozen Viking territory called Minnesota.  Browsing the paper (yes, you caught me wallowing in the filth I should avoid) I noticed their “Voter Id” Amendment.  The handy internet gave me the text:

“…All voters voting in person must present valid government-issued photographic identification before receiving a ballot.  ….  All voters, including those not voting in person must be subject to substantially equivalent identity and eligibility verification prior to a ballot being cast or counted.  …”

Hmmm, said I.  What could have caused the bluest of blue states to put such a thing on the ballot?  Then I remembered back in 2008 when Minnesota had an epic 8 month Senate election.  Republican Norm Coleman won the Senate seat in a narrow squeaker.  No, wait!  There was a recount.  Yep, he still won.  Wait!  Another recount.  Still Coleman.  Wait!  Another recount!  Still Coleman?  Dammit; we can do this all day.  Another recount.  Plus some lawyers beating the hell out of each other.  Plus immense hand wringing on the part of the mysterious disenfranchised masses who seem to vote entirely for one party.  How can that be?  Are there no disenfranchised idiot Republicans who can’t seem to submit a complete and readable ballot?  Shut up Curmudgeon!   We’re recounting again.  Ah ha!  The Democrat won!  We’ve got the vote we intend to inflict on the people so our work here is done.  Suck it Republicans!

And so it was in 2008; when the votes were recounted until 8 months later Minnesota was represented by a proud and clearly elected Stewart Smalley.

Al Franken: Math is hard. Sometimes you need eight months to count to the right conclusion.

Which brings me to exactly 4 years later.  Minnesotans are about to (depending on the results) fix the living shit out of the recurring perversity of bullshit election recounts.  If it passes Minnesota will have it written into their State constitution that you cannot vote without coming up with at least as much documentation as you need for a fishing license.  The era of recounting will not be over but the “margin of cheat” will have been massively reduced.  Our Viking brethren are only one of many states taking pains to cut the shit and count fair and square.

I set down my paper and wandered out the door to pay for my $4 fuel and continue driving through this great nation.  (Is it not a modern miracle that I can leave the land of ice and be 600 miles away by sunset?)  As I often do, I felt proud of my Nation.  We make mistakes but we correct them.  Good luck to those hearty Minnesotans who not only endure winters that make people’s blood freeze but they’re taking a meat cleaver to the modern insanity of “count until a certain party wins”.  Our nation, for all it’s faults, is adapting.

A.C.

P.S.  Of course the amendment could fail.  But I have an inkling that people who can shovel snow at -20 degrees aren’t likely to puss out on counting.

P.S.2. I’ll also admit that being impressed with an amendment is unusual for me.  I like constitutions to be short, sweet, and with as few words for lawyers to misconstrue as possible.  I’m usually opposed to virtually any amendment on any constitution anywhere (there would have been no Prohibition or Income Tax if I’d had any say in it).  This may be one of the first State Amendments I’ve really liked.

In the last hour my secret, unpublished, do not call, rarely answered, “often the ringer is off and I usually won’t answer it even if it isn’t” phone rang twice.

My phone usually goes days without ringing.  (Is that not awesome?!?)  This week every couple of hours some random evil robot drone calls my phone trying to detect the pickup so it can add me to their list of “live” numbers.  For the last two calls I was expecting a business call so I had to answer.  One was the Democratic Party and one was a State Employees Union.  Both were hung up upon (is that a verb?) faster than you can say “get bent”.

Some observations:

1. I live in a state so blue they’d vote for Trotsky if they could.  If the left is calling my ignored hinterland with it’s six voters and nine tractors then something is afoot.  There are less votes here than a minivan in a mall and our biggest concern is raccoons raiding the chickencoop.  Are the walls really coming down around them that much?  I smell desperation.
2. I haven’t picked up the mail but I’m assuming there’s a truckload of negative advertising pamphlets.  Mostly from one side of the spectrum.  I smell fear.
3. I’m very busy on a project.  No time for their insipid chit chat.  No time to even reach for my air horn.  Get off my lawn.
4. Here’s a hint (that works for both parties).  Govern wisely and you won’t have to be groveling before the big day.  It’s better to have karma on your side.  Also cramming for the final exam is supposed to end once you’re a grown up.
5. Has anyone with an unlisted phone on a do not call list actually voted in favor of the douchebag that called them?  How could that possibly work?
6. I feel a little unbalanced.  Almost like some minimum wage / volunteer Republican flunky should call so I can rudely hang up on him too.  So far the stupid party hasn’t been that stupid.  Well played sirs!

I wrote earlier that negative advertising had changed (or at least influenced) my decision making process. A sack of dull I’ll refer to as Candidate A has opponents who are determined to bury my house in negative advertising.  I can really support a guy who’s managed to piss off entrenched interests so completely.

Today my mailbox had another metric ton of political blather.  Two were political that were positive. Excellent!  Here they are (I might be paraphrasing):

“I’m candidate A and I’m awesome.  I ran my own business and got filthy stinking rich.  Then it bored me so I took up a new hobby of defeating incumbents and hammering the shit out of everyone who wants tax dollars. I’m also trying to come up with a numberset that will allow me to cut taxes while still balancing the budget. Math is hard but I’m sure it has to do with division by zero. Vote for me and you won’t get a damn thing from the government. Also your taxes will only go up if they tear out my beating heart and stab it with a pen full of red ink.”

“I’m candidate C and I’m more awesome than the other guy. I’m going to get your town more money for schools and stuff. Unicorns will pay for it. Math is easy.  You just pretend that what you want to be true… is.  Also I’m going to shit on private schools and home schoolers because fuck them!”

How’s that for the democratic process?  Each candidate got sear words in my eyes and try and convince me. Good for them. Candidate A promises damn near nothing… which is an attainable goal.  Candidate C is offering free crack and magic.  Well played gentlemen. Candidate C; you lose and thank you for playing.

But the mailbox wasn’t done.  There were four more ads and they were all negative:

“Candidate A refused to raise taxes last summer so our spending on roads was delayed.  He blows goats!”

“We’re cops and Candidate A cut funding for our cool crime fighting gear.  He’s obviously trying to get you robbed and beaten by hordes of maniacal criminal masterminds who have turned to mayhem specifically because us noble cops lack enough cool stuff.  Did we mention we’re cops?  We’re totally bitching cool.  Also if we don’t get our stuff you clueless hayseeds are going to be attacked by the Russian Mob tonight.”

“We’re hospitals and you’re going to die now.  You’re going to die because Candidate A didn’t give us more unicorn money.  You deserve ass cancer for that!  I hope you’re happy.  You useless piece of shit.”

“This is the cops again.  Remember us, the awesome studs that keep you from getting attacked by space pirates?  We demanded more crime stuff and Candidate A wouldn’t spend the money.  That bastard!  We’re going to hold our breath and stamp our feet until you give it to us.  Also we’re going to give you a ticket for not wearing a seatbelt, swearing in front of puppies, and swimming within one hour after eating.  Also did we mention we’re cops and totally non-political so you can trust us completely.  You wouldn’t want your car towed would you?”

……

Me doth think they protest too much.

I have revised my earlier support for candidate A.  I’m was going to vote for him.  Now I’m going to build a shrine to him.