At the Page Street Library, there’s something crooked going on.
I voted this morning. Not only was the Eagle machine which recorded my vote malfunctioning (it took about eight tries before the Eagle machine took the ballot, but the lady (whose name, I have discerned, is Irena) actually looked at my ballot and said to me, “Are you sure you want to vote that way?” Further, I did not receive a voting stub back from my ballot. Just the offer of an orange sticker that said “I voted today.” Did my vote even count this morning? Was the machine even recording my results right? Further, are Irena’s remarks swaying other voters from making an informed decision?
I wasn’t the only person subject to Irena’s catty questions. My neighbor also experienced this.
I am greatly shocked by all this. I have voted in every election since I was 18 and have never once seen such political influence, in clear violation of election laws, maintained within the inner sanctum like this.
I’ve tracked down the appropriate person (a very nice lady named Hortensia) at the San Francisco Department of Elections and got them to pledge to replace the Eagle machine and look into Irena’s corrupt behavior today.
Needless to say, if anyone else in San Francisco is experiencing anything fishy, please let the Department of Elections know about this. The phone number is 415-554-4375.
The Call by Yannick Murphy: The always interesting author of Here They Come and Signed, Mata Hari returns with a novel that whips up a worldview from a rather quirky set of limitations: namely, the call logs that a veterinarian maintains as his son is unexpectedly put into a coma and an unforgiving economy denies him work. What emerges is a surprisingly optimistic, often funny, and very moving account on how one family uses acceptance and forgiveness as a way to atone for hard knocks. (
Birds of Paradise by Diana Abu-Jaber: Forget Franzen and Eugenides. If you're looking for a social novel that counts, Diana Abu-Jaber is the author you're looking for. Building from the free-form exploration of consciousness and identity in Crescent and the gripping procedural structure of Origin, Abu-Jaber's latest novel is her finest, equally fluent with gutterpunk culture and smarmy real estate men. It has been suggested by The Washington Post's Ron Charles that you will likely gain some pounds while reading this novel. This is certainly true. Abu-Jaber's description of food is so precise that it often made me want to do more cooking. But I very much admired the way in which Abu-Jaber presents all her characters as unwitting victims of rough capitalism, which permits them some dignity even as they perform terrible acts.
The Last of the Live Nude Girls by Sheila McClear: This memoir isn't so much about the decline of the Times Square peepshow, as it is about one young woman's efforts to pull herself up by by her bootstraps when presented with few economic options. Filled with self-introspective candor and a quiet dignity, McClear's story is one that might befall any of us in these volatile times. While McClear does get back on her feet, her book leads one contemplating the terrible fates of other young women now moving to New York and falling into deadlier vocations. (
My ballot was rejected in a machine this morning, because I didn’t vote for a “Second choice” for assesor. The guy asked me if my lack of a second choice was on purpose, so he could either hand me back the ballot or override the machine. That question easily could have been phrased as “Did you mean to vote this way?” so I don’t think Irena is necessarily an evil minion.
It’s very possible that she intended nothing by it. Often people are oblivious of the consequences or intent of their actions. And I’m not claiming anyone to be an “evil minion.” It’s the actions that are the issue here.
None of this discounts that (a) she failed to give me a voting stub, (b) she quite visibly bent her head over to LOOK at how I was voting and then proceeded to tell me, “Are you sure you want to vote that way?” and (c) unmentioned in the post above, when the Eagle machine was malfunctioning, I asked if my vote could be hand-counted, to which Irena replied no. Frustrated, I fed the ballot into the machine repeated times until it went through. (Now is THAT legal? Denying a hand count option? I don’t know, in light of some of the new voting machine overhauls. Someone might want to look into that.)
Oh! The poor old ladies can’t get the machines to work right. Oh, my! I feel soooo sorry for them. And what? My ballot isn’t right? The machine spits me out? Again and again and again??? Well, those poor workers, all confused and caustic — grabbing my ballot with what seemed anger, and questioning MY competence for filling out the ballot! My, oh my, oh my! And no receipt to boot!
Only BUSH/Schwarzenegger backers would excuse this bullroar. Complain at 554-4375 now! Your vote doesn’t count if it’s not counted! Yogi
Arnold has problems:
http://kron4.com/Global/story.asp?S=4091854