Democratic Process

If you're wondering just exactly what sort of moral fiber will be found if you were to slice me down the middle, it might be best described as "weak." I say this as a matter of confession. I sold my vote. I sold my vote for mayor. I sold it to my wife. She has some very definite opinions about who should be running our city. Me? Not so much. I've had my notions, to be sure, but no clear choice emerged after several weeks of consideration. So I made my choice: not to make one.
After years of discussing our household ballots in order to make sure that we maximized our democratic capacity as a family, we reached a mild impasse here. I could have simply picked "none of the above" and mailed in my ballot without any further debate, but that wouldn't have been our way. In the interest of full disclosure, I decided to admit my ambivalence and ask my wife to make me an offer. "How about five bucks?" she parlayed.
I suggested that I was having a hard time making a decision, but five dollars was easy to turn down.
"Chocolate cake?"
Nope. But closer.
"How about brownies?"
I upped the ante: Chocolate frosted brownies.
Agreed.
I have been assailed daily via email by the dozens from this and that candidate or ballot measure. My analog mailbox is just as full of fliers and mailings begging for my attention and consideration. Joe Biden, Nancy Pelosi and Bill Clinton have all been after me and my wallet, begging me to help stem the angry red tide that is the potential Republican takeover of the Senate.
I think they have missed the obvious opening. I'm cheap, but I'm not easy. I've got a great big sign hanging around my neck: Will shill for chocolate.