The Power of Provisional Voting

So pulling out of the casa this morning, it dawned that we'd forgotten to confirm our polling place on our sample ballot. No biggie; this neighborhood has had only three different polling places in the 14 years we've disturbed our neighbors here, and all three potential places of poll are very close to one another. Off to the first: no polling place. Number two: zippo. The third, the one where we've voted the most often in nearly every election since moving here: pound sand, Sparky.

From that church parking lot, a call was made to the County of Orange Registrar of Voters. After the automated system couldn't decipher the answers to its automated questions–guess it wasn't the right time to be finishing that bowl of Count Chocula–a polite young woman came on the line, got the full name and address and punched some computer key to instantly arrive at the correct polling place.

“Uh, hmmm…,” she informed. “There is no place listed next to your name.”

We were sent to the Whittier Law School library to cast a provisional ballot. Now, in all those 14 years of voting while registered under the same address, only once was someone overheard inquiring about a provisional ballot, and that was in the last election before this 6-6-6 primary. This time, we were the third person in line waiting to be giving provisional ballot instructions.

Uh, hmmm…

A temporary code for the electronic gizamaboo was given. The votes were cast. In six weeks we'll find out if our ballot was accepted.

Oh, it'll be accepted all right. Because if the Moorlachs and Caronas and Harmans and Silvas and spooky-eyed lady judge candidates and Orange County Republican Party can clog our mailbox with their campaign lies, then the County of Orange Registrar is going to count our votes. We're going to make damn sure of it considering we had to endure the voice of former state GOP chairman Mike Schroeder interupting Sunday dinner to pass along this critical fact: state Board of Equalization candidate Michelle Steele is made of steel. Or is it her dildo is made of steel? Speaking of Sheriff Mike Carona, the puppet whose ass has swallowed Schroder's wristwatch, should that dirty bastard avoid a runoff by one vote–and our one vote against him turns out not having been counted–there WILL be hell to pay at the County of Orange Registrar of Voters office. Oh yes, there WILL be hell to pay.
What's that? We're out of order? We're not out of order. You're out of order. THE WHOLE GODDAMN SYSTEM IS OUT OF ORDER!!!

Whew: un-Pacino, un-Pacino, find our happy place, find our happy place.

That's better.

We conclude with a bold prediction on the California governor's primary:

Schwarzennegger, in a landslide.

Don't forget you read it here first.

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