A Note On The Vote:
Voting fraud and inconsistencies have been a part of the political landscape for quite a long time. It’s unfortunate that such should be the case, as we like to think ourselves above such shenanigans. Indeed, we have come a long way, but we are still apparently working on a process, since it seems that some people just don’t want to go along with the rules.
In the early days in American voting, we had Women’s Suffragette movements, so that women could earn the right to vote. We established the right to have voting monitors, as some recalcitrant people in certain states still attempted to prevent Black people from voting. And that was still after Black people were considered the property of people, and without human rights such as voting, which we finally put an end to. This can never again be a consideration — and I mean, never again.
We continued to have irregularities in the votes: problems with lost mail trucks going missing with all the absentee voter’s ballots in them; problems with absentee ballots of U.S. servicemen not getting counted; problems with hanging “chads” and numerous vote recounts…
Last presidential election of 2012, I waited in line for maybe 5 hours or so to vote (and this was early voting). Eventually striking up conversations with the people before me and after me, I recall the back-and-forth with the Black woman ahead of me (I think) who was voting for Obama, and myself, who was voting for Romney. Strangely, the security guard, who happened to be Black, would come down to the point where I was, and seemed to be counting the number of people in line, to that point. He would then go inside. Then he’d come back out and do it again. Each time, he seemed to write a small notation in a notebook he carried with him. When I got inside, the security guard seemed to be reporting something to a Black woman who sat at a table in the middle behind the registration people. I don’t know what they discussed briefly.
I was directed to a standing open booth and afterwards proceeded to the machines to insert my ballot. I walked towards an available machine where I wanted to insert my ballot. Instead, I was not allowed to use that machine. I had to briefly wait to use a machine that a man sitting right next to it (a Black man, if I recall) had been fiddling around by the base of the machine with. It seemed like he might have been doing something with the plug. I think they inserted my ballot for me (I don’t recall). I believe the machine said I was #333. I got out of there I think about 5 minutes past closing time, I think. I believe there were four machines. So, you mean to tell me that only about 1,300-1,500 people can vote, per day? (Number of votes per machine times number of machines?) Highly irregular, I thought, but I never really mentioned it, until recently, to someone with the Trump campaign.
I voted early again, in 2016, for presidential contender. This time, the entire vicinity was roped off. There were no areas for party supporters, normally present at the vote, to shout their last-minute support for the candidate they were volunteering for. Nobody to meet and greet the constituents. One political-shirt wearing person was trying to garner support for someone, perhaps for Senate, I never heard of. They certainly weren’t interested in me. In fact, they went rather out of their way to keep trying to avoid me, and find somebody, anybody, other than me to talk with. They went after the Hispanic-looking women with a zest. The only other person there was someone who asked if I’d voted, when I’d finished, and said they were with the fire association, but I didn’t want to discuss my vote, nor did I want to be hit up for a donation.
I proferred my license, and the bottom of my vote wound up being torn off, catercorner, as the woman tore it off the machine it printed out from. There was only about a second delay to come up to register. It was Saturday, but it was like a complete ghost town. I was directed down the aisle of booths where I could pick my preference. I marked my vote, and placed it in the security folder. I proceeded to the ballot machines. I did it myself. When I asked the man which way went up, he said it didn’t matter. When I was looking near the voting machines, there was a messy table with papers spread out all around it. I think I recall it being open to view. Sometime after I voted, it had been blocked from view to others and to foot traffic from other activity, by standing screens. My vote number was #113. I counted four machines, I think. It was about 2:00 p.m., I think. So, even being loose with the numbers or figures or time (since I don’t wear a watch and I’m generally incognizant of the time), that means: only about 460 voters… (115 rounded-up times four machines = 460).
Not that this is a racist statement, or anything, but every pollworker, with the possible exception of one greeter in the entrance, who may have been Black, or Hispanic, or Indian, was Black. Even the security guard, who I think was the same one as last time. When he saw me walking towards the place, he quickly ended his conversation with the person he’d been chatting with, and quickly walked back towards the entranceway. Not one White person, not one Jewish person, worked at the polls. How could this have happened? This certainly isn’t representative of the neighborhoods of the vicinity. I recognize several of the pollworkers from four years ago, I believe.
Now, I’ve just received a beleagured email from within the Trump campaign that people supporting Trump are being harrassed. I just want you to think carefully about whom you’re going to vote for. Are you really going to vote for the people who would stoop so low as to harrass another party? Is this what Americans want to portray? Is that who you are? (Indeed, as I’ve seen and experienced it, that is the case.) Count my vote — Trump!