I just returned from the dungiest polling station I have ever been in but they were incredibly happy to see me. I can’t imagine why, but trust me,they were over the top with joy. On the way out a little old bag lady type was bundled outside the exit door of the building where I voted offered me cookies as a reward for voting. I declined but thanked her for her efforts. Sure beats the usual demands for money I get every morning at the streetcar stop and the cussing I am subjected to when I refuse to turn over the fruit of my labours. But if truth be told, it made me long for the really old days when politicians just brought your vote for drinks.
I tend to fall asleep relatively early so I doubt there is a snowball’s chance in hell that I will be awake to watch, let alone blog, any election returns. But on the off chance I am awake – I will take my cue from Occam’s mood and commiserate accordingly. One should never doubt the sensitivity of the
New Carbuncle:
1. Rabid wolf - Don't make any eye contact.
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