Don’t vote, you say. Voting is a waste of time, you say. A single vote in our system means nothing and never will, you say as well. Well this flawed theory assumes that going to the voting station is a cost. Heading down there is a laugh sure. It’s something a little different to do, around once a year, which is also the oftenness one should go bowling, visit a casino, sleep in a coffin. Also, you get a nice trot over to a church or some legion you’d never go to, and a lovely old lady or some fella with medals on his coat asks you for your voter registration parchment. Now you don’t get many wins on a regular basis, but today you remembered your card, and your have your ID, so you present them both to the guard, you get let through, and suddenly you’re feeling pretty good about yourself. And we haven’t even gotten to the voting box yet. Oh man, they tell you to go behind this curtain like you’re walking into a public shower, but instead of a faucet you find a table that’s too low with a single piece of paper and golf course pencil. You get to read the list of names, names that you’ve had flicked in yer face for the last couple of months. that after today you won’t have to see any more. Hey, you like one of the people on the list. You think she’s best kind, like someone you could shoot the shit with. And there’s another guy’s name, you laugh because as much as you’ve seen his name, you have no idea what he looks like or where he stands on anything. Then you see the guy with the blue team and you think about how they’re your least favourite team. Well there’s a pencil and a list of names in front of you, what do you do? Forget the election, forget everything. What do you do in the singular situation of a group of names? You just end up choosing the name you half like, no matter what the ticking of the box means after this moment, if anything at all. It’s automatic. So you ticked off a name – now what? You look around, and with not much else to do, you hand the sheet to someone on your way out. And that’s why you should vote.
And anyway, there’s always one name you don’t recognize, which you find a little strange considering the number of signs that have been flicked in your face for the last coupla months. But then you consider that this new person never even had enough money for a few signs, because they’re not backed by one of those parties in the system that you so hate, and they just wanted to try to be a politician because they think they’re smart and everything and they don’t really know what else to be at. And since your vote is, as you admit, as negligible as you can get, you tick off this fella’s name, because later that night when he’s watching his riding’s race on the TV and getting all sad and shit because he’s only got 16 votes, and then the last set of votes comes in and his eyes brighten as the number next to his name on the screen changes to 17. His lucky number, wouldn’t ya know it. Now he knew from the beginning he wasn’t going to get to go to that big building with the same name as a group of owls, debating climates or whatever, but at least he got his lucky number in votes. All thanks to 16 close friends and family, and his new hero, vote #17, you. Go vote sure. You got nudding else to do today.
[Editor’s note: The preceding is a rebuttal to a friend who refuses to vote in political elections and actively encourages others not to do so. The author values democracy and does not want its processes tarnished by rogue citizenry, and I’m sure you feel this way as well Mr. Scott.]