It Really Wouldn't Kill You to Vote

As I was out today I drove by a very old and/or decrepit man with a cane and ballot in hand struggling towards a ballot drop box, fighting for his life against the unseasonably cold Los Angeles weather and against time itself, as if he were grasping frantically for a chalice from the Fountain of Youth or a thread from the hem of Yeshu's robe. On my way back I was proud to stop and drop my own ballot in the same box as that gentleman, although as I noted it were an unseasonably cold day in Los Angeles and I had pressing need of the restroom.

I was watching Selma the other week on account of history repeating, and while voting rights are being blitzed back to pre-1965 and voting is variously more difficult than it needs to be in most of this country, we're not quite back at "sheriffs rounding up a posse to keep the registrar's office white".