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Election Day for some of us

Your Humble Blogger will not be posting the Whitman today. It’s not Election Day here, for one thing, as the various emails I’ve been getting are mistaken about my being a resident of the Commonwealth (although likely enough I haven’t been taken off the rolls, now that I think about it). It’s not Election Day across the country, so there will be no ballot-shower from coast to coast. But I would guess that something approaching half the Gentle Readers of this Tohu Bohu live in the Bay State, so I would like to recognize that today is Election Day for them, and hope that they enjoy it.

Not likely?

Look, y’all know how I feel about nose-holding and voting. And I’m not going to attempt to persuade you to vote for Martha Coakley—one of the advantages of an exclusive little blog like this one is that y’all have already calculated the benefits and costs, and we don’t have to pretend that I know any of that better than you do. Although I should probably say that if you are considering voting for Ms. Coakley without holding your nose, you should probably do a little more research.

What I’m concerned about is that Gentle Readers may be so disgusted by all the stuff surrounding the election that they will not take a moment or two to enjoy the election itself, the choosing not the chosen. Remember, as you vote, that your vote counts the same as anybody else’s vote, not more nor less. Not more than the person who you judge to be an ignorant dupe, not less than the person who considers you to be an ignorant dupe. Not less than the millionaire, not more than the guy who cleans the millionaire’s executive washroom. Not more than the unemployed millionaire, not less than the union-protected MBTA driver. All the same.

All coming together to have an equal say, for one day, in the governance of the country, that is, in choosing a Senator to do the work of legislating and compromising, of log-rolling and earmarking, of bluffing and standing on principle, of being Senator so you don’t have to. Or so that one woman can’t, the one who was gratuitously rude to the poor sap at the coffee counter—and both of those votes count, and count the same with yours.

Oh, there are problems with the system, all right, serious problems that have a serious impact on your life and even more on other people’s lives, good luck to them all. There are problems with your system, too. And with mine. Particularly with mine—I was gratuitously rude to someone the other day myself, and my vote is still as good as anyone in this Nutmeg State of mine. And no, that’s not a reason for complacency, not a reason to rest, not a reason to lord it over the places on this earth that have their own systems with their own problems and charms. But it is a reason to take a moment, even on a day when you find yourself voting for Martha Coakley—or on even on a day when you find yourself voting for someone else on a ballot that has Martha Coakley on it.

By the way, those of you that want to follow turnout and rumour would probably do well to follow Shorty-nominated political microblogger David S. Bernstein over the course of the day. That’s my recommendation, anyway. Please comment with your preferred source of Election Day not-quite-information, as well as (for Massachusetters) your Election Day experiences. There will be an award for best description of the stench coming off the ballot, but only for those who are wearing a sticker that says I Voted!.

Tolerabimus quod tolerare debemus,



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