By Steve “the Mailman” Breen Going Postal
SO I DID LIKE MOST OF YOU ON SUPER Tuesday. I got to the polls after sundown with a scant couple of hours to spare until closing to engage in the franchise that only about one third of eligible voters in the US choose to exercise in this great country of ours. I ambled up the stairs at the church on Second and Hill streets, chatted with folks in line, cut a couple of jokes and scratched myself in a discreet but inappropriate fashion while I waited my turn to cast myself forth into the political miasma of Super Tuesday 2008.
I arrived at the table of poll workers, gave my name and waited for my ballot. The gal at the table informed me solemnly that I couldn’t vote as I was a “VBM” [Vote By Mail] and couldn’t participate. I said I never received my ballot and asked for a provisional ballot. She cocked an eyebrow at me that reminded me of my mom when I told her as a teen that “…. those condoms couldn’t possibly be mine.” I got the “EYE.”Ya know what I mean? When I further explained that I am the mailman on Main Street and that I deliver my own mail to my residence on Main and couldn’t possibly have missed my own ballot, the poll worker relented, somewhat chagrined.
As she scanned across the log book and saw the nomenclature “REP” designating Republican next to my name, she again looked up at me quizzically and inquired, “ Are you SURE this is YOU?” When I cheerfully and loudly assented without shame that, “Yes, I am a Republican,” you would have thought that I told the woman that I had had radioactive syphilis. I scanned the log (which had probably 30 plus names on the page) and noted that I was the ONLY Republican inscribed. I joked that the good thing about being a Republican in Santa Monica is that I don’t have to wait in line at the voting booth.
I further cajoled her and anyone within earshot that me and the other four Republicans in Santa Monica meet in a phone booth outside a steakhouse on Wilshire for our monthly meetings comparing caliber sizes. I think the poll worker was a Brady Bill vegetarian.
She looked at me like I was Darth Reagan (*heavy breathing* Nancy says I have this disease but I forget what it’s called).
Now let me get this straight folks, we only hang out together and swirl around on our collective indifferences around the nature vs. nurture of our presidential candidates every four years. In a lot of instances it is the ONLY time that we actually ogle/yak/ inappropriately scratch our neighbors during the fever pitch of the Presidential Demolition Derby so why aren’t more of us at the steering wheel of the ballot box?
I suggest a bipartisan bill for a proposed NATIONAL VOTING DAY. An unpaid holiday from work (excepting essential emergency personnel and any writers working for Letterman) so everybody that is eligible to vote has no excuse to get to the polls, stick their opposables in purple ink and give a thumbs up to their favorite political NASCAR jockey. This also eliminates tight races decided by “Chad” who seems to “hang” around in Florida. We take a census every decade as well as an occasional trip to the DMV so one should automatically be registered if one is eligible. Fer crissakes, a telemarketer shilling for (insert body part here) implants can find you in Zambezi, so why can’t the government use them, too?
After voting you can cruise over to O’Brien’s to watch the results and either have a wake or have cause for celebration. On Inauguration Day the winning party has to throw the country a BBQ. If Republicans win there will be baby back ribs and beer (McCain was once a beer distributor). Should the Democratopians win there will be tofu dogs and soy caramel lattes (Hillary does a lot of “take out”… Obama favors SPAM musubi and diet Coke).
Ladies and Gentlemen, start your engines!
STEVE BREEN is a self-described Reagan Republican and the “best looking mailman in Santa Monica.” He
Originally published in the Santa Monica Daily Press print edition on February 13, 2008. Read the original PDF.