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Voter ID's, Polling, law suits

Don't you know who I am?

By John Burtis
Saturday, May 13, 2006

No, this is not another long anecdotal regurgitation about the ongoing episodic adventures of that billionaire sea going vagabond John Kerry throwing himself in front of a mini-cam to issue a prolonged monotonic expostulation of dread concerning the status of a stalled pelican on Boston's Southeast Expressway, but about our failure to control our polling places.

an old man in bucolic Bow, New Hampshire, learned last Monday that he cannot withdraw his own money from a bank he has done business with for 55 years, where he is known by his first name, unless he can proffer a valid photo ID, while in arizona, various Latino groups are banding together to sue the state, to insure that every Juan, Miguel and Pepe can saunter in and vote without any ID whatsoever, as many times as they'd like, in hopes of perpetuating fraud and acts of multiple voting.

While it seems that you should be able to obtain your own funds with a minimal amount of hassle and without having to prove who have been for 11 lustrums, depending, of course, on how much money you have, I continue to be rather worried about this whole open walk-in, trust me, my name is really John Smallberries and I'm new in town, I'm telling you the God's honest truth, idea at the polls, a holdover from the absurdly ridiculous January 1994, Motor-Voter Bill Clinton's manna from Heaven for the Democrats.

The latter is a problem which the Republican leadership has never gotten around to ironing out, which they rue every November and promptly forget every December, despite al Gore's riotous behavior in Florida, the black eyes, bruised shins, mass apoplexia, and lawsuits up the kazoo.

In New Hampshire, where illegal immigrants are piling up like the winter snows on Mt. Washington, where hapless Hutu vagabonds are being settled in Concord under a variety of federal homesteading programs, with the Latin Kings and MS13 packing in Manchester like manatees around the hot water exhaust at a Florida nuclear reactor, Governor John Lynch, who'd rather not discuss these disturbing new societal trends for fear of alienating his most supportive new voting blocs, just vetoed a bill to require valid photo ID's at the polls, which appears veto proof.

Let's see, you need firm identification to drive an automobile. I mean even Patrick Kennedy has to have a valid license when he swerves around town in a state of enforced panicky forgetfulness, wrecking cars, and caterwauling any number of outlandish stories to the police.

You need positive ID to cash your check, though we all know that this small act has little or no prospects of killing or maiming anyone.

We need a photo ID to board an airliner, in order to enjoy a few highly salty bags of nuts, but, oh, no peanuts, to be washed down with a choice of off-brand juice, lukewarm sodas or a selection of cheap american beers--short shrift for a long trip featuring a pat down search from surly federal employees and repeated calls for your license.

a valid ID must be shown in order to enjoy the delights of distilled spirits at home, to sit at a bar, or to saunter into a nightclub, because liquor is, after all, harmful to the young and can cause the ill advised to damage machinery and to kill the uninitiated on the highways.

and now, in many states, one must offer a photo ID to enjoy the delights of a fine cigar, a true sin to be controlled.

and while the sum of these rather mundane annoyances doesn't seem too big on the large scale of things, nevertheless, these activities have become highly regulated by the calls for your identification.

But when it comes to determining who will push the nuclear button, send the B-52s to carpet bomb some truculent dictator, send what remains of the fleet to the Persian Gulf, turn Mr. ahmadinejad's house into a thin layer of opaque glass, launch a thousand cruise missiles into the Sudan, order Osama snuffed out if the Democrats haven't tipped him off to our imminent arrival, the Marines into the rest of Cuba, we, for the most part throughout america, don't even bother to ask who the hell is voting him in.

a friend of mine voted in the town elections the other day and was never asked who he was. He then asked the polling people if they had ever seen him before. He went on to say that he could've used his neighbor's name, his mechanic's name and address and then waited until the first shift of poll workers went home and come back and voted again.

My, they were unnerved about it. Wow, they said, in unison. They'd never thought about that.

Did you also know, he went on, that Governor Lynch recently vetoed a bill that would've prevented this?

No, they all said, and were shocked that they hadn't heard a word about it.

No, america just stumbles along fat, dumb and happy, letting anybody at all drag into a polling place, not checking a thing, allowing the most brazen Democrats to vote over and over, with no concern evinced about who in the hell is determining the end user of the votes--the fellow with the nuclear football, the guy who can trumpet down the walls of Jericho, the man or woman who can flatten the planet, the woman who can sic the IRS on us.

It is a shame that the last place where no one knows my name, or anyone else's, is at my polling place.

Don't you know who I am?


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