Police on my Back or Election Wrap-up Article

You may think it's strange for someone like me, who thinks the entire election was a farce, to volunteer my time with the Campus Vote Coalition. You would be right. I had no intention of doing it, I was coerced. I had a few free hours, so I couldn't really say no. As much as I didn't want to do it, it does look good on resumes, and gives me double-bitching privileges. I voted, and I volunteered my time to the election, you will listen to me whine about politicians.

Basically, the Coalition's goal was to get as many students to the polls as possible. A noble aim, for sure. In the months leading up to the election, they helped students register to vote, and on Tuesday, called those who registered with them to remind them to vote, and answer any questions.

Now, I am not a member of this group, but I decided to help out anyway. I made some calls and ate some free pizza. The pizza was cold.

Before I continue, I'll have to explain a little bit about how this whole procedure worked. Anyone living on campus voted at one of two centrally located polling stations. Not very confusing. If they had any questions, it was as easy as "Where do you live? Okay, you vote here." No big deal. The problem is that in the University of Pittsburgh, there is a massive housing shortage. Many students live in a place known as South Oakland. It's like a college town ghetto, a keg on every porch, a loud party every night, the rivers run with Pabst Blue Ribbon and bong water. There were several locations where South Oakland residents might vote, but none of them were on campus.

In order to aid us in contacting these South Oakland residents and getting them to the polls, volunteers were sent to the South Oakland polling stations to check our lists against their lists. That way, we only had to call those we know had not yet voted.

This seemed a little odd to me, but if I had to say "I'm just calling to remind you that today is election day and the polls close at 8PM. Do you have any questions?" one more time, I was going to chew off my hand, so I could no longer dial the numbers and would be excused. Fortunately, I was sent to help check the lists. A member of the Student Vote Coalition, we'll call him Furious Kingfisher, was in charge of the operation, I was just the help. I assumed, and still just assume, that the Coalition had thought through all the legal issues and whatnot, so I decided to just go with the flow.

We arrived at the polling place, a fire hall/senior citizen's center, and walked in. We had trouble right off the bat, as we were expecting to be given the lists with no problem. Earlier that day, other volunteers were sent to do the same thing, and had no difficulty. Trying to appease us with just the total number of voters, the workers there were rather hostile to the idea of giving us the list. Now, it sounded a little strange to me as well, but voting records (that is, the list of people who have voted, not party affiliation or actual vote) are public records, and I certainly don't know anything about election day protocol.

I knew this guy was going to be trouble as soon as he stepped in the room. He was about 5'6'', and pretty hefty. He was wearing a black sweater with a small label stuck to it reading "Election Judge." He had extremely thick glasses and spoke in a high voice.

"You can't have those lists!" he shouted as he waddled over. Waddling in such a way that suggested he was ready to fight someone. I'm still trying to figure out his motivation. Maybe he was just a hard-ass, and wanted to flex his muscles as election judge. Perhaps he suspected us of partisan vote-getting tactics. (A sticky situation, to be honest. While we never asked party affiliation, and it played no part whatsoever in our efforts, we all know which major party is helped by college voter turnout.) It's also possible he was just acting the crotchety old jerk that he is.

We argued for a while, then called our superiors, and they argued with him on the phone. When it became clear that we were not going to get those lists, Furious got a little, well, furious. I believe his exact words were, "This is fucking bullshit! You're trying to disenfranchise these voters!" To which the judge responded,

"I'm calling the police!"

We figured that was the best time to make our exit. We eventually found out that we were supposed to get the lists from another polling station in the same building. The workers there were quite helpful. We never did see the judge again, although we could hear him from the second polling station and planned an escape route should he burst through the door, officers in tow.

I realize my posts have been rather political lately, but what can I do? When you've got your finger on the pulse of American culture, you have to call in the crash cart. I'd like to wrap up my Election 2006 coverage with some final thoughts on the Pennsylvania races.

Governor Ed Rendell (D) over Lynn Swann (R): Rendell is a politician, so I don't trust him as far as I can throw him, but I don't find him to be downright evil. Swann, on the other hand would have been a bad choice. He won a few Super Bowls for the legendary Pittsburgh Steelers team of yore, and was clearly running on that name recognition. Rendell, at least has some good ideas. He helped bring a high-tech wind power manufacturing plant to my hometown of Ebensburg. I never thought Ebensburg would have a high-tech anything. IPods break down when you drive through. Whenever I open my laptop within city limits, it's inexplicably running Windows ME. We could do worse than Ed Rendell.

Bob Casey Jr. (D, sort of) over Senator Rick Santorum (R for religion): My thoughts on this race are already documented here, so I won't go into details. At least we're no longer represented by Santorum. Fade away, you crazy asshole.

Jason Altmire (D) over Representative Melissa Hart (R): My chief regret with this race is that Hart didn't freak out. After the AP called the election for Altmire, the local news guy at Hart's headquarters asked her if she would concede. She started whining about receiving no results from some little district somewhere, and she looked pretty pissed off. Unfortunately, ten minutes later, she conceded. I had really hoped someone would fail to step down gracefully. Otherwise, why bother having all that live coverage?

There it is, PA has done their part to balance the federal government. I didn't do my part, of course, but I was hoping things would work out this way. At least now, the government can stop running our lives and get back to fighting amongst themselves. That just about does it for me. The 2006 midterm elections are over. This is Crippled Vulture signing off.

The Rite of Peace, also known as the handshake part

I stand up and walk to the podium, adjust the microphone, God's microphone. I clear my throat. Jesus is behind me, dying for our sins, and he's looking down at me. I want to turn around and say, "Hey Jesus, lay off, man!"

That's how it looks in my head. I haven't gone to church, save Christmas and Easter, in six years. This November, I will read from either the Old Testament or the New one (minus the gospels) at my grandparents' 50th anniversary mass. It will be the biggest sacrilege I've committed since I ate the wafer at Easter last year.

Losing one's faith is a Catholic rite of passage. It's not easy to suffer through sixteen years of obligation, obtuse rituals, and school on Sunday (!) and come out of it still believing in God. Looking back, I can pinpoint the exact moments that shook my faith. Like the time all the Sunday school students were issued envelopes and told that they had to donate to the church every Sunday. This would not have been so bad if I hadn't recently figured out that all the money donated to the church didn't actually go directly to the poor (an impression I must have picked up somewhere, but probably not in the real world). Or the fact that the all-seeing, all-knowing, all-forgiving God of mercy and love doesn't want to hear my fucking sob story for forgiveness unless I tell it to a priest in a weird little room.

I digress. There's still a pang of guilt when I commit these little blasphemies. Granted, this pang of guilt is far less uncomfortable than the awkward conversation with my grandparents when they find out their eldest grandson ain't a church-goer anymore. Sometimes you just got to eat that wafer.

There's a part of the Catholic mass (and maybe the other ones, too) where the parishioners turn and greet each other with a handshake and a "peace be with you." Sometimes if you catch someones eye but they're too far away for physical contact, a cool guy "what's up?" head tilt will suffice. This is called The Rite of Peace, and it's my earliest memory of church.

When you're a kid, the service as a whole is as esoteric as it is dull. "Blah blah blah sit. Blah blah blah stand. Blah blah blah kneel." All of a sudden, everyone turns around and addresses you. I still get a little tingling sensation before the rite of peace.

While having an argument with someone when I was young and my faith was faltering, I was told that the function of church, by which I mean the reason the church and most of one's peers find that a mere personal relationship with god does not suffice is that the church is there to serve as a community. It's a gathering point.

Which makes it even more of a political institution than it seems.

It's not like I have much right to complain, hypocrite that I am. I can bitch and whine about how problematic these things are, but when I eat that wafer next month, (and oh yes, I will eat it) I'll be just as big a fraud as any of them. That's the bitch about religion. You're messing around with world views. They're more than world views, it's a way of life and a comforting presence and a world view all rolled into one. The line between critical thought and flat-out insult is practically non-existent.

Peace be with you.