September Surrender: Day Twenty Seven
I’ve been going back and forth about voting in November. Not because I don’t know which candidate I want to win. Orange Man 2024 all the way, baby. Because you’d have to either be trolling or way too much of a Dem to vote for the She-Robot. But that’s neither here nor there. At this point, disillusionment in our electoral rights is at an all time high for me. And I’m starting to wonder how much longer I want to participate in the theater, or if my vote would even count this time around.
New Yorkers need not show their ID to vote. We can just walk in, tell them our name and address, and we’re in. It is especially annoying when they tell me they can’t look at my driver’s license I wave in their faces, even as I say it’s a great way to confirm the spelling of my last name. I know I’m a pain in the ass, but it’s the only way I can get my point across. Because it feels illegitimate every time I go into the voting booth here.
The only time it felt like my vote counted was in November 2016. Every other time was just a wash. For example, in 2021, New Yorkers voted against enacting same-day voting registration and universal absentee ballots. I remember saying “no” on this measure myself. But what did that tiny little nightmare up in Albany do two years later? Sign it into law anyway. So what was the point of exercising my duty as an American citizen?
It took me a while to realize that not voting was also an option. I figured it out in 2021, when a friend who voted for Orange Man in 2016 was so disappointed with his pandemic response that she cast a ballot for Scranton Joe in 2020. Okay, sure, I get it, but she also said point blank, “Oh, Joe is definitely senile.” I had to tell her if my vote came down to a guy I hated and a guy with advancing dementia, I just would have abstained. I’m not sure that occurred to her either, and now a tiny portion of me thinks about it every time we talk about the current condition of the country. Because as they always say, “If you don’t vote, you can’t complain.”
Well, why would I need to complain? Why can’t I just watch all those who did cast a ballot duke it out while I sit back and observe? Just because I hated O-bomb-a that much, did that mean my vote should have gone to Songbird John or Mittens Rombillionaire? I hated them too, but felt that call of obligation to be a good citizen and vote. And now, with the election less than six weeks away, I’m feeling that same patriotic need to be a part of the reason things change. Because this may just be the very last time I actually get to pretend I help pick the president.
I have no idea what the future holds here. All I know is that feeling I had in 2020 when I sensed shenanigans would take place is no longer there. This feels like a lock. Like an all-fifty-states kind of thing. So will my vote count for real, or will I just act like it does? Should I pretend one more time like it makes a difference, or should I sit back and pray for the future of this country?
I guess this makes me an undecided voter at the moment. We’re a voting bloc, too. Let’s hope this is all worth my while. See you in 39 days.