Thoughts On Not Voting

Politics in America seems to me to be a mad arms race. Each side of every issue tries to pump up its supporters to write, to call, to vote, to give money by telling the public how disastrous it will be if they don't. That we are in crisis, that the revolution is near. If they get any traction this leads to the other side of the issue doing the same to their supporters. In an endless cycle of spending more money trying to shout louder and frighten people more.

Yet as young as I am I remember the same sorts of dire warnings about similar subjects many times in the past. And I cannot think of a single one that turned out anywhere near as bad as was predicted. I also have the rather different perspective of having been in the Republican Party and involved in the party politics when Clinton was about to be impeached. File off the partisan buzzwords and the same arguments could be taken over to the Democrats/Greens today and be used about President Bush.

I got turned off by my original party by the Clinton thing and when I went across the street I found the other side to be just the same in a wavy mirror reverse. So I decided to contribute to something positive, political détente; a lessening of tensions by backing off from the political arms race. It's not my job to correct every thing I see as a mistake. Just think of what a nice world it would be if more people followed my lead and we might actually get politics with people talking to each other instead of yelling past each other.

So my call is to stop voting. Or at least to stop doing it publicly. Vote in the dead of night by mail in ballot and don't tell a soul why or how you did. Don't contribute to political MADness.

Also note that the shouting does nothing to encourage me that voting for whoever is any better than a vote for Bush. So with me at least you aren't doing your side any favors with the endless stream of rhetoric.

A Bit of Story

After finishing up all the preliminaries with my client I felt the need to consult with a higher power. Meaning my grandmamma. She has much more magic than me, is terribly clever, and has two centuries of experience to draw upon. After all my usual methods would do me little good, no sense in looking up girlfriends and relatives like I would with a skip trace. Plus any excuse to see her is a good one.

It isn't far to her home in Elyria, a neighborhood of industrial warehouses and ageing 18th century working class houses. She settled there before the freeway, and long before I was around. Sometimes I suspect that she'll be living there after the whole city is gone, her little neat house standing by itself, an island of old Russia on the high plains. That isn't terribly realistic, after all she has moved before, but she has an air of permanence about her. She certainly didn't move when the more recent Russian community grew up in Glendale, when new factories were built, and the neighborhood became Hispanic. She says that the changes don't bother her as long as the weather is pleasant and her neighbors treat her with respect. Which they do for the most part, I've even seen a few of them coming by to consult with the wise woman.

(This is the grandson of Baba from Kiska and the Firebird)