So I Voted

Today is a day off.

So I voted.

I think that Election Day should be a paid holiday every single time.  Especially for the General Election.  Leap Year.  It’s only fair.  Why make it so damn difficult?

I think that people should be registered to vote as soon as they turn 18.  No questions.  No reason to make people go through hoops in order to vote.

Hoops is not conducive to Democracy.

One cannot pretend to be Democratic and purge the vote.

Because voting laws are undemocratic.  Even if one is a felon, they should still get a vote.

I guess that was the point of the Crime Bill.  To leverage the vote toward the affluent and complacent.

The sun came out this morning.  I can’t remember when because the time changed on me.  Because we have strange rules on time as well.


This state does not encourage voting in person.  They don’t want to staff for it.  But I have this strange suspicion that votes by mail are not counted.  Because winners are always announced day of.  I’ve never heard anybody say, we’ll have to wait until all votes are counted to determine the winner.


Because it’s sunday, it’s a religious day for many of the people.  Especially where I live.

So I plugged those earbuds deep into my ear holes and took the dog for a walk.  He helped me vote.

I heard the songs that I wanted to hear.

Who are you to wave your finger?
You must have been outta your head.
Eye hole deep in muddy waters.
You practically raised the dead.

Rob the grave to snow the cradle.
Then burn the evidence down.
Soapbox, house of cards and glass,
So don’t go tossin’ your stones around.

You must have been high.
You must have been high.
You must have been.

Foot in mouth and head up ass.
So whatcha talkin’ ’bout?
Difficult to dance ’round this one
‘Til you pull it out, boy!

You must have been so high.
You must have been so high.

Steal, borrow, refer, save your shady inference.
Kangaroo done hung the juror with the innocent.

Now you’re weeping shades of cozened indigo
Got lemon juice up in your eye!
When you pissed all over my black kettle
You must have been high, high

I don’t even know where to start, but this is definitely the song for this election cycle.

That song moved into Rage Against the Machine.  Guerilla Radio.

Transmission third world war third round
A decade of the weapon of sound above ground
No shelter if you’re lookin’ for shade
I lick shots at the brutal charade
As the polls close like a casket
On truth devoured
A Silent play in the shadow of power
A spectacle monopolized
The camera’s eyes on choice disguised
Was it cast for the mass who burn and toil?
Or for the vultures who thirst for blood and oil?
Yes a spectacle monopolized
They hold the reins and stole your eyes
Or the fistagons
The bullets and bombs
Who stuff the banks
Who staff the party ranks
More for Gore or the son of a drug lord
None of the above fuck it cut the cord

I’ve changed the words in my head.  I’m not sure which I prefer.

More for war or the son of a slumlord.


More for banks or the son of a slumlord

Both work.

That ballot up there.  It was an attempt to cut the cord.

And since I had Robbie, I decided to take him for a walk.  Turning the corner from the drop box in front of the police station toward the trail, the view was great.


So it goes.

The sun was coming out from behind the clearing clouds.  The temperatures are warm considering it is November.

And we walked.  I miss my walks.

Songs travelling from my ear buds into my brain.

I could quote Snooze Button by Snot.

More Rage Against the Machine.

System of a Down.

Greg Palast recently released a movie version of his book Best Democracy Money Can Buy.  Go to to watch it for free until the election is over.

And as we got close to the river, Slip Away by Mad Season played.

Born of the water
Born of the flame
This life is a monster
Don’t you know it’s name
The house it is wooden
The house it is stone
The proud broken hearted
And close to the bone
Once you had a nightmare
And then it came to pass
Crazy sky in the morning
Green as the grass
Covering a grave

This song.  The vocals.  The solo by Mike McCready.  Solves everything.

I look at Twitter and see the vocalist for that song made a very rare tweet.


He’s not wrong.  But that hardly solves the problem.

If Clowntown exists, I don’t want to visit.  I don’t get clowns.

The cleansing continues.  So many people on the trail today.  Each and every one can’t help but smile as they see my hyper dog.

He’s crazy.

We have an initiative in my state to stop Citizen’s United.  I don’t know what that will do, but it’s always worth a shot.

Because one of these candidates have done nothing but use that decision to her advantage.

There has been no discussion of climate change.  None of the state of the US economy.  There has been nothing of substance regarding money in politics.  Minimum wage.  Fracking.  Anything worth while.

Down to the water
Drawn to the flame
This life will leave you crippled
Don’t you know the game
Once you woke up choking
But then you held it down
Dry as the sand in the desert
Black as the clouds covering the sun

I really don’t have a point today.

So I voted.

I didn’t get a sticker.

In a black and white world, the choice is easy.

But this world isn’t black and white.  There’s always room for a little blue.

And I decided I wanted to use more pictures in my posts.



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