Ron Cunningham: Retro voter


Published: Sunday, November 4, 2012 at 6:01 a.m.
Last Modified: Friday, November 2, 2012 at 6:45 p.m.

I'm as retro as a set of white-wall tires.

How retro?

I vote on Election Day.

Always have. Always will.

Even when I'm 90 and I have to push my walker through three feet of snow I'll be there to vote on Election Day.

Assuming of course it's snowing in Gainesville when I'm 90. With climate change, it could go either way.

Listen, if voting on Election Day was good enough for the Sons of Liberty, it's good enough for me.

I sneer at early voters.

"Convenience voters" I call ‘em.

Saturday a week ago some friends came over to watch the game. They had stopped on the way to vote early but didn't.

Turned out the wait in line was an hour or more.

I must have missed that definition of "convenience" in Webster's.

Lines? I sneer at lines.

I vote right after daybreak on Election Day.

You could swing a dead cat (a poll cat?) in my precinct at that hour of the morning and not hit anybody.

And don't even get me started on absentee voters. Might as well roll the dice.

My daughter, Jenny, is more excited about this election than any in her young life.

Of course, she's only 25, so she doesn't have a lot to compare it with.

Point is, she voted absentee. Then Jenny got a letter from the Supervisor of Elections stating that her signature didn't match the one on file, and that her ballot would likely be discounted unless she cleared things up by 9:30 the next morning.

Jenny is working an unpaid internship in Washington, D.C. She could have hopped a midnight flight, I supposed.

Now she's just one more passionate but disenfranchised would-be voter.

Heck, my signature changes just about every time I sign something.

Incidentally, am I the only one who thinks it's tons easier to commit voter fraud with an absentee ballot then in person?

To hear the politicians tell it, the greatest threat to American freedom is an army of illegals showing up at the polls to "steal the election."

It's got to be easier, and cheaper, to buy signed, blank absentee ballots than to kit out a horde of undocumented aliens with fake IDs.

But, now we're urging everybody to vote absentee. Go figure.

Not me, pal. I love the visceral finality of Election Day voting.

On Tuesday I'll be up before the sun. At first light I'll hop on my bike and pedal off to my precinct.

I'll swagger in, full of confidence. A retro voter in his element.

I'll arrive with my ID, a DNA sample, a handwriting expert and Mayor Lowe's lawyers.

I'll fix the poll worker with a steely gaze and say: "Go ahead, make my day. Tell me my vote doesn't count."

Not for me the artificial thrill of early voting. Might as well open your presents the day before Christmas.

And I'll vote absentee when the boys in Vegas start laying odds on my ballot being accepted.

The only thing we retro voters disdain more than convenience and absentee voters are the ones who don't bother to vote at all.

Unless, of course, they would have voted for "the other guy" had they bothered to show up.

Then I'm willing to give ‘em a pass.

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