So you think everyone eligible to vote in the upcoming election has an obligation to do so? Maybe you’re right. But have you considered a day of your life is worth more than $27.00?
WTF . . . $27.00? Of all the odd lead-ins I’ve used in my previous 11 arguments, I may be found guilty of my 12th being the vaguest. Don’t worry, though, we’ll get there. But as is my style, let’s start elsewhere. How about with the silly mantra: “Every Vote Matters.”
In truth, only one vote matters. It’s that single vote in excess of the number of votes for the loser of the election that really matters. Imagine votes for one candidate as matter and votes for the other candidate as antimatter. (Go ahead and stamp “Unnecessary Science Reference” on your #UrProbablyRight Bingo card because here it comes!) Simply put, matter and antimatter are the exact opposites of one another in every possible way. When an atom of matter interacts with an atom of antimatter, they annihilate one another—gone forever. Nothing to worry about today, but in the early Universe it was all the rage.
The same concept applies to presidential ballots, within a state. One vote for Trump and one vote for Biden cancel each other out—one annihilating the other. Both votes are as meaningless as a 2000 hanging-chad Florida ballot. Once there are no more ballots remaining for one of these old white dudes, a single vote for the other is all that’s needed to color that state red or blue. It doesn’t matter if there are 1,000,000 more ballots for the winner; they’re no more important than the countless other vanquished pairs. Only that single vote matters.
One ballot. That’s all. Thousands upon thousands of man-hours invested in prepping, organizing, sorting, counting, etc. All that work and we’re left with a lone employee, arm waiving high above their head, a single slip of paper representing the deciding vote. In reality, with millions of votes being cast both electronically at polling places and mailed in even months in advance, statistics likely plays its role well before 100% of the votes are counted. Regardless, wouldn’t it be easier—and a whole lot less time-intensive—if only a single vote were cast? One ballot to rule them all.
I volunteer to cast that ballot. Save everyone’s time. No need to mask up and stand 6-feet behind a dude in a well-worn MAGA cap knowing your vote will do nothing more than cancel out his. No need for taxpayers to foot the bill for all this work. The mantra should be: “Only One Vote Matters. And It Ain’t Yours, So Don’t Waste Your Time!” Maybe a bit wordy, but I’m open to editing. The only way to guarantee that your vote matters is to be the only one who votes. Plain and simple. So why all this constant hubbub about trying to get everyone to vote?
Of course, I realize the likelihood of only a single person voting for the President in even a relatively unpopulous state like Wyoming is essentially zero. The only outcome more certain to never occur would be a waitress claiming all her tips on her taxes. Unless you truly have no preference as to who prevails, the only people you should try to convince to vote are those who will vote for your chosen candidate. Statistics again play a large role here. Democrats try to convince entire groups of people that traditionally lean toward their party to vote, knowing it will ultimately net their candidate votes. Republicans are smart to try to make it less convenient for those same people to vote. And vice versa, of course.
But I say this: Don’t worry about voting, my fellow Ohioans. It’s not worth it. I’ll take care of it. You have better things to do with your time.
What you don’t want to do with your precious time is sit in a box with 11 others making $27.00 a day. Jury duty, am I right? In Ohio, you are eligible for jury selection if you are a registered voter who has voted at least once in the last 4 years, or if you are at least an 18 year-old non-felon with a driver’s license or identification card. The majority of people are unable to get along without these identifications because they need to drive or perform any number of activities that require a state-issued ID. Thus, most people are eligible for jury duty right there.
Anyone somehow able to forego a driver’s license or ID card—thus guaranteeing they never have to sit on a jury—are unable to vote if they want to maintain their juror immunity. If an individual does not believe in some aspect of the judicial system, they should be afforded the ability to help elect the people that will represent them and fight for the change they seek. However, they are not allowed the opportunity to vote without also being subjected to the very institution they seek to change. The government’s choice not to separate the right to vote from the juror selection process serves only to disincentivize voting.
Yet every four years we hear the same thing: “This is the most important election in history!” Ohio is one of the traditional battleground states. I’m a 40 year-old Ohioan who votes once every 4 years. I’ll continue that streak via mail in the coming weeks, knowing full well that my vote will do little more than annihilate someone else’s. Hoping upon hope, though, that mine will be the vote held high, pinched between the thumb and index finger of an election official as Ohio announces their 18 electoral votes go the way of—
Wait! What happened? Where were we? Oh yeah, that’s right, time for the infamous closing paragraph where I completely negate the previous 900 or so words . . .
So you still think everyone eligible by law should vote? Each elected official must speak for their constituents; they should represent the majority (or thereabouts) of the electorate. Thus, we need as many people to express their desires as possible. The call is out for every eligible voter to cast their ballot. If you don’t want to vote for either candidate, vote against one of them—but vote! If social media has taught us anything, we are a society quick with criticism and enamored with complaints. And remember, if you don’t vote at all, you have no right to complain about the President for the next 4 years. So, I guess, yeah, come to think of it . . . You’re Probably Right
[012] September 30, 2020