Voting

I voted today. Provisionally. I am a Provisional American.

Initially I was simply an American, and a lazy one at that. (Lamerican)

So I applied for and receive an absentee ballot, making me an Absent American. (Absent-American)
I receive the absentee ballot, and in my absent-mindedness, failed to note the part that I would be committing some measure of fraud if I were to vote absentee, but were actually available to vote on November 4. This made me a Scared American. (Scamerican)

Now, being a Scared American should be familiar to me, since the last few years have been pretty scary, partly because of what’s happened to us, and partly because what we’ve done around the world. But I am particularly scared of anything that involves the possibility of me making a boyfriend name Maurice in prison. (I am afraid I would find out why they nickname prison “the poke”.)

Yet being an Absent American, I happened to absently lose my absentee ballot. How embarrassing, especially since, in all probability, one of the three dogs in our house ate it. It was then that I realized that I was probably too stupid to vote. Accepting that I was a Moronic American (Mormerican) was one of the hardest things I’d ever done in my life, but then the slow paralysis of idiocy slowly flowed over me like 750 mg of Vicodin and took the pain and shame away.

But compelled by a proud citizen mentality, I decided I needed to try to vote, even though the chain of events outlined above could be taken as a sign from God that, for the good of the country, I really shouldn’t. So, now humbled before the difficulties of the electoral process, I, the Humble American (Humerican) went to my registered polling place.

I had to register provisionally, which was ok since I had a delightful conversation with the kind polling judge and got to sit next to a very attractive goth chick who was in a similar predicament. So, in a state of arousal, confusion, and stupidity, I cast my vote, provisionally, as a Provisional American (Promerican).
But on the way home, I had an experience that reminded me what this election was really about.

I stopped into Starbucks, and picked up a tall coffee, free today for those who voted. I waited patiently for the man who ordered ahead of me to pass me the half-and-half, at which point I realized that he, too, had gotten a tall coffee for donning an “I Voted” sticker. He had a pleasant southern accent, and we commiserated over the fact that Ben and Jerry’s by the creek was offering free ice cream for voting.

It’s entirely possible that he voted differently than I did. But in that brief exchange, I realized that there was no Red America, nor a Blue America, a White America or a Black America. There is only the light brown America of coffeeshops, where effete liberals can meet Southern rednecks over a free cup of joe (without thinking of “that Joe”) and enjoy the bliss that is the soul of America: life, liberty, and the pursuit of free shit.

God bless this country, and the naked mermaid that is our symbol.