Although I vote by mail myself (well, by drop box; I don't trust the fuckers Trump put in charge of the post office), I volunteer every primary day/general election day and drive people to the polls. Usually these are very elderly folks or disabled folks. I've been driving some people for years. Sure, I guess they could vote by mail themselves, but they prefer going in person and they have the right to participate in the electoral process in the way they choose.
Mr B goin' t'the polls, 'splainin ranked voting: "No! No! You're doing it all wrong! The electable value assigned to that candidate is zero point zero zero nil! Talk about throwing your vote away! Sheesh! That vote's left the ball park!!"
By accepted lib norms, going to all the No Kings marches. I'm not sure they accomplish much substantively, buy they're fun.
By having made and wearing a "Make America Good Again" baseball cap.
By my more refined or effects or lucid or whatever standards, ranting that nothing much gets done til the national Democratic Party gets reformed into being a progressive operation instead of its current corporate puppet party -- which is to say dealing with that money in politics thing* -- and reforming SCOTUS. (Amy Klobuchar is sad that the insane Iran warring is over without a clear conquest of Iran and all that.) Unfortunately, I keep ranting the rant despite all the libs who give me shit because they empty promises excite them too much to acknowledge reality or something. Not at all fun but the good news is that I'm so worn down, I don't care. Libs want to enjoy the collapse of the nation, god bless them; odds are they'll be living longer with this shit than I will. (*For the record, Citizens United was something of a climax. It all began -- without meaningful action from the Democrats other than Bill Clinton and the DLC forcing the party hard right so as to get some of the money -- with Buckley v Valeo (https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Buckley_v._Valeo) in [checks notes, can't believe eyes, checks again] 1976.
Sure, keeping empty promises coming is what turns libs on.
What are you talkin' about? These are glorious times we're livin' in, didn't you catch the VI Day celebrations? Miss your chance to sexually assault a nurse in Times Square?
When I ran the local radio station, I was very involved in local civics. I made sure to provide as much help and free air time to groups who fed the hungry, housed the homeless, clothed the naked as possible. I can only hope that did some lasting good.
But that same experience also gave me an up-close look at the key players in the local machinery, and I was permanently put off by the eternal network of nincompoops, self-promoters, serial incompetents, and just plain lunatics who are entrenched in the system here. So these days, my contribution to civil society is helping kids get started in aviation careers.
It's nowhere near as bad as other places (like PA which has no bottle deposit) but I pick up beer cans on roadside when I'm walking my dog and drop them off to support the village's community center. It's a twofer!
My version of this was when I was a regular camper, my ex and I traveling over the mountains into BC most weekends, exploring the Forest Service sites dotted around the SE corner of the province. Usually reached only by following dirt roads winding into the bush away from the paved highways. A world of steep mountains, dense forest, creeks and tiny lakes like jewels. The Park Service has lovely facilities too, with running water and full-time staff, along the main routes, but that’s where the noisy families and RVs with generators go. And the fees keep rising. Above 30 bucks a night, last I looked.
The Forestry sites are free, and as such, much more primitive. Just a dozen or so gravel pads, each with a picnic table and fire circle, nicely separated for privacy. Pit toilets shared by everyone. There might be a well with a pump but it’s best to bring big jugs of water. No regular maintenance at these places. You’re expected to take care of things yourself. And that’s where citizenship comes in. We would always wipe the table down, rake the gravel, tidy up the fire pit and haul away any half burnt logs before we left.
But some people are pigs, you know. Even given this gift of nature, they can’t seem to go anywhere without leaving crap behind. So, just like you, after setting up the tent and tarps and lawn chairs, I would take a plastic bag and walk through the adjacent underbrush picking up trash—plastic containers, bottles and cans, paper products, all sorts of detritus, even fucking dirty diapers. And then raking up the inevitable cigarette butts tossed around the site. Only after doing that would it feel like it was truly ours for a couple of days, the oasis it was meant to be. Time to pop open that first cold beer.
*Leave it better than you found it* Another lesson for civics class.
Overall, past years of anti-litter campaigns and growing environmental awareness probably have had an impact on attitudes toward regarding places which should, as you say, be oases.
But then there are the types who are either heedless, or get off on bad behavior, and backcountry sites will bring that out. It reminds me of 30 some years ago, when a friend who worked as a seasonal city park employee in Seattle would say, "You see people at their worst when you see them at their recreation."
I always return my shopping carts to the corral. Yesterday at the ReUse store check-out I forgot two very small antique glass salt shakers at the bottom of my cavernous bag and momentarily wavered; but no, it'll have to be a separate transaction because they need the $4 more than I do. I taught my children to remember the unfortunate so we ended up singing bad parodies of Christmas carols around the Salvation Army donation bucket as we rang the bell. I make a point to really see and thank service workers (my postman gave me his personal cell phone so now I can text him when I have packages too big for the mailbox!). After 50 years, I finally made 100 blood donations; now I'm going for 15 gallons but I better buckle down to it because who knows how long I'll hold up?
We all have our pet peeves and theories to go along with them, and I believe unless you are elderly, disabled, or are wrangling small children, returning your shopping cart to the corral is non-negotiable. I view the people who don't as narcissists or psychopaths (and of course, as Trump voters).
OTOH my first job was in a grocery store and I loved being sent out to get carts because it got me outta that goddamn store for few minutes. Scatter 'em around people, some poor grocery worker needs the time out from under the eye of the goddamn boss.
I buy locally as much as possible, patronizing smaller and independently owned businesses as much as I can. More important than that, I tell other people about them. I have gotten a number of people to patronize the same grocery and pharmacy that I do. It's part of a local chain, but it's family owned.
Our local coop, Regent Market, has a bench out in front with a slogan provided by one of the patrons: "The store where you can't get away from your friends."
In 2020, in order to quiet the voices shrieking in my head, I signed on as a poll worker in Detroit. Several factors influenced this decision. The pandemic had thinned out the ranks of those who traditionally did the job, i.e. old people. I was working for an organization so persnickety about "bias" no other election-related work would be allowed, even though the country was on fire and one party was handing out the matches. And the city of Detroit had some extra money to pay bonuses to anyone willing to sit for 14 hours, masked, in a polling place. (The money came from Zuckerberg's foundation, and you can see where that asshole's principles went.)
So I took the training and was assigned to one of the poorest precincts in the city, not far from my comfortable home in an affluent suburb. After a career in journalism, not much about poverty surprises me, but it was touching, in the best way, to see how the day unfolded. To watch people whose creature comforts were pretty thin make their way to this COGIC church and cast ballots that probably wouldn't affect their lives very much gave a new aspect to the term "civic duty." Turnout in the city is pretty atrocious, but we had a steady, if thin, stream of voters all day.
The most affecting were the oldest people, most of whom came with younger family members who literally supported them through the process, sitting with them at the ADA-required terminal, or standing at the little kiosk to read the candidates' names to them and then make the proper mark. One old guy took about 20 minutes, start to finish, and as he fed his ballot into the tabulator, I said, "You know, it's easier to vote absentee these days, and you wouldn't have to leave home." He scowled, and his daughter answered, "He doesn't trust it." Just the sheer amount of physical effort it took to get him up, dressed and to and from the polls was considerable; I had to salute the effort.
I went home after we closed up, and curse myself to this day for not going to the TCF Center downtown, where the action was rocking all night. Some of the worst players in the state's political sewers rose up to fuck with the results, and one shared an audio clip he'd recorded at a training, and I know because I recognized the voice of the woman doing it. (Let's say it was distinctive.) She was explaining the procedure for handling no-voter-ID ballots; the ballots are set aside so the voters' affidavits swearing to their identity can be compared to records back at the Board of Elections, and absolutely nothing about it is sketchy. In fact, it's a defense against illegal votes being cast. But this shithead manipulated it and added some shitty echo effect so it sounded like she was instructing us to set certain ballots aside for later destruction. It made me nearly incandescent with anger, and to this day he is active in GOP politics and remains a piece of shit.
I later fell away from the work -- life intervened -- but this year, once again, these assholes are going to try to pull some crap, so I re-signed up. I take the training next weekend. Wish me luck.
NY had early voting for the first time in 2020. So we went the first day. Only a few locations, we went to the nearest one, in a majority Black neighborhood. There was a line, we waited maybe 30 minutes. The vibe was fantastic, even celebratory. No one talked about politics or the candidates at all. Lots of younger people bringing their elderly relatives, everyone let them cut the line. There was an alumna group of a Black sorority handing out water and being generally cheerful and helpful. Wish that Election Day always felt like that.
I live in a MAGA place where Democrats don’t win, but I might try volunteering in the spirit of doing extras. I always vote anyway, and I’m curious to see if they even bother to have ICE agents monitor the voting. It could rile some of the people in my neighborhood; maybe even the other neighborhoods. At least, they’d be sore about not being trusted to go far right down the ballot. I’d like to lex around and glare at the government thugs, but I glance in the mirror at my scrawny aged arms, white hair, and “Hollywood Steps Out” cartoon aloha shirt tells me that I’d just be another victim.
Washing recyclables, yes. I run them through the dishwasher. Which also saves water. But I feel my participation here on Roy's substack is a high point in my contribution to the social contract I never reviewed and signed.
I have gotten very serious about reviewing candidates and ballot measures, including the judges. But frankly I suspect it is somewhat silly, that, a mere tinkering with a totally whacked out system.
I am living mostly like a zombie in a world on fire. I could do more. I am too complicit in things I know to be unjust.
From the perspective of an ex-pat who's been living in a foreign country for 28 years (I'm just talking about myself here): just "represent." Act like a fucking human being. Be a good neighbor. When communication breaks down (and it will), stay friendly (the people you don't understand are usually just trying to help you).
I agree with Roy, North Americans (English speakers generally?) could use a few Civics lessons. I think a bit of schooling on the Greeks, as well. It doesn't fucking matter if Socrates, Thucydides, etc. had all the answers. They asked some pretty good questions.
"Act like a fucking human being." For me, one of the most dispiriting things about our age is that this frequently seems like a skill that needs to be taught and re-taught.
This is perhaps my biggest concern of the Trump era. There are kids growing up believing his behavior is normal for a POTUS, normal for a grown-up. I worry if we can ever claw it back.
Yes. So many people seem to be completely oblivious to the fact that other people exist. Or care. I should amend my paean to New Yorkers helping those in need to mention that you have to -really- be in need to get them to even notice. Otherwise you're on you're own. As Russell Baker wrote once, "There are no liberals behind steering wheels."
But in an era when "live and let live" and "love they neighbor" and the Golden Rule are seen as satanic marxism we all have to do what we can.
i'se in front of the fed courthouse *every* Tuesday from the week after the women's march in Jan 2017, until March 2020 with my sign "citizens resist trump and his thugs" with a buddy of mine, a retired oboe player with the Eugene symphony.
nowadays i'm not as clockwork regular. i need a double knee replacement, which i think would be too stressful under fascism for my particular 'consciousness'. maybe after he dies… we'll see.
so last year, i trained as a 'legal observer' with the CLDC, and this year go to demonstrations and 'observe legally' wearing a nice little green cap that's supposed to fend off fash police billy clubs. so far so good. happy to report there are almost daily protesters at the nazi ICE nest (fed bldg) here in Eugene.
Good for you!!! It is very intimidating to put yourself out there so publicly in these times, and I applaud you.
I've never heard of a double knee replacement being treated as a reward you give yourself when Trump dies, but what the hell, why not? And you probably need Roy to weigh in on this topic.
"i need a double knee replacement" hey buddy it's doable! Just letting you know! Even one can help! (Not healed up yet but I see which way it's going.)
In fifth grade or so, I was one of the students assigned to raise and lower the flag each day. As part of it, I learned the flag code. As a result, if I’m flying a flag at home I make sure it’s illuminated at night, unlike some of the locals here.
I had not hitherto thought that I was being civic-minded in washing my recyclables—I supposed that it was mere fastidiousness on my part—and am gratified to learn from Our Gracious Host that I was being virtuous all along. I also hasten from one side of the street to the other (via crosswalks, with the signal permitting) with a mind to facilitating the orderly and safe flow of automobile traffic. I like to think that were I a cyclist I would not alternate between claiming the privileges of a vehicle and a pedestrian according to whichever status conduced to my greater convenience at any given moment.
"I also hasten from one side of the street to the other" I understand that. Baltimore has a lot of street saunterers. I understand why living here might make someone not care whether they get hit, but think of the rest of us!
I witnessed a remarkable episode of poor citizenship a few years ago while taking the geriatric pooch on his constitutional: there is a Food Hole on the corner. In order to reach its parking lot, vehicles turn left at a controlled intersection, and then left again into the lot. On this occasion the car at the head of the line did not move when the left turn signal illuminated—the driver was studying her phone—and after about twenty seconds, longer than I might have given her, someone briefly honked to alert her to the opportunity that had eluded her notice, and also to the fact that by inaction she was denying this to the shoppers behind her.
Down went the window. Up came the middle finger. She lingered until the arrow went to yellow, and waited another second or so before making her turn, just to be certain that it was red by then. Meanwhile the line of cars behind her had extended out to people attempting to turn left from the very heavily traversed main drag a hundred yards to the rear: she had created, heedless, a potentially dangerous situation.
I passed the woman’s car parked in a driveway nearby a few days later. I recognized it from the make/color, but mainly from the twenty or so bumper stickers with which it was adorned, every last one of which bore some treacly “progressive” homily. You know: “Co-existence.” “All are welcome here.” “People over Profits” “Practice Random Acts of et cetera.” —and on and on. Assholes apparently come in all ideologies.
Here’s another one you do, Roy: you acknowledge that your city is stretched too thin for the needs of its citizens, and you don’t bitch nonstop about it, whine about “my tax dollars,” run off to the burbs, blame the victims.
My contributions to civic life these days are minimal and mostly confined to the building I live in -- picking up loose trash, helping little old ladies (some of whom might be a year or two younger than me!) with packages, etc. Like going out of your way to find the stranger who lost her wallet, my incredibly decent parents raised me do this kind of stuff without even thinking about it and it's embarrassing to even mention it.
I love that New Yorkers helping--hand link because I love this city. A while ago, on a very sunny day I was hustling down the subway steps at Union Square -- like an idiot I still had sunglasses on and mistakenly thought I'd arrived at the final step and took a bad tumble. I was immediately surrounded by New Yorkers, suburbanites, tourists with accents, all making sure I was OK and helping me to my feet.
But if you wanna read about a true civic hero check out the story of Wesley Autrey at either one of these links.
1. I am going to start washing the recyclables now. I am guilty of leaving rancid mayo and petrified salsa in the jars and food particles on the aluminum foil.
2. Other than my lack of care about recyclables, I always say thank you to any clerk or phone answerer when I need to contact any government office. I WAS a Phone Drone even working as a lawyer and really put effort into being nice to the people who called me. I became known as the Nut Whisperer for my superpower of getting angry people to calm down and be polite, so I al never the Nut Who Needs Whispering.
3. I return shopping carts, appropriately dispose of trash, carefully fold or hang clothes I’ve tried on and return them to the changing room clerk, and anything else to make life just a little easier for minimum wage retail employees.
4. I knock on sooooo many doors before each election reminding my fellow citizens to vote.
AAAND, that's *another* pet peeve of mine. When I'm trying on clothes and pass dressing rooms women have vacated that look like bomb sites, clothes scattered all over the floor, I get angry on behalf of the store workers almost as much as if *I* was the one who had to pick them up.
Maybe I need to revise my self assessment and start thinking of myself as "irascible." I seem to have a lot of pet peeves, lol.
"Irascible" is one of those great words that means and sounds and looks exactly like it should. And a little well-placed irascibility is so satisfying, too.
Although I vote by mail myself (well, by drop box; I don't trust the fuckers Trump put in charge of the post office), I volunteer every primary day/general election day and drive people to the polls. Usually these are very elderly folks or disabled folks. I've been driving some people for years. Sure, I guess they could vote by mail themselves, but they prefer going in person and they have the right to participate in the electoral process in the way they choose.
Brava!
This is VITAL. You’re a hero!
Thank you! As I read down the thread, it's heartening (but not surprising) to see how many of us are trying to do our part.
First comment right out of the box, and already Sunday's set the bar too high for me.
Thank you, but c'mon, we're all just trying to do our bit, and I'm sure you do yours!
Mr B goin' t'the polls, 'splainin ranked voting: "No! No! You're doing it all wrong! The electable value assigned to that candidate is zero point zero zero nil! Talk about throwing your vote away! Sheesh! That vote's left the ball park!!"
Mathsplainin'. We all do what we can.
By accepted lib norms, going to all the No Kings marches. I'm not sure they accomplish much substantively, buy they're fun.
By having made and wearing a "Make America Good Again" baseball cap.
By my more refined or effects or lucid or whatever standards, ranting that nothing much gets done til the national Democratic Party gets reformed into being a progressive operation instead of its current corporate puppet party -- which is to say dealing with that money in politics thing* -- and reforming SCOTUS. (Amy Klobuchar is sad that the insane Iran warring is over without a clear conquest of Iran and all that.) Unfortunately, I keep ranting the rant despite all the libs who give me shit because they empty promises excite them too much to acknowledge reality or something. Not at all fun but the good news is that I'm so worn down, I don't care. Libs want to enjoy the collapse of the nation, god bless them; odds are they'll be living longer with this shit than I will. (*For the record, Citizens United was something of a climax. It all began -- without meaningful action from the Democrats other than Bill Clinton and the DLC forcing the party hard right so as to get some of the money -- with Buckley v Valeo (https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Buckley_v._Valeo) in [checks notes, can't believe eyes, checks again] 1976.
Sure, keeping empty promises coming is what turns libs on.
JFC.
They also serve who only piss and moan.
So I think despite more than enough proof I’m wrong.
And not to go extra dark and pessimistic but the history of the past couple days proves the pessimism is fact based.
But the pissing and moaning is a relentless compulsion…
"the history of the past couple days"
What are you talkin' about? These are glorious times we're livin' in, didn't you catch the VI Day celebrations? Miss your chance to sexually assault a nurse in Times Square?
I have made and distributed 400 buttons that say TRY ME YOU ORANGE BITCH. Where’s my medal?
He’s still alive and acting out…
Which leads me to believe prayer doesn’t work.
There’s no god worth the title.
So much smiting to be done, none being done.
Where is your God now?!? (Certainly not smiting those needing a good smiting)
C'mon, somewhere a High School football team won its championship, give credit where credit is due.
M'thinks that my god missed the boat
And she's stranded somewhere quite remote
She's given up boxing
Now she's more into doxxing
And the baddies no longer git smote
Like, it's not about "medals," right?
When I ran the local radio station, I was very involved in local civics. I made sure to provide as much help and free air time to groups who fed the hungry, housed the homeless, clothed the naked as possible. I can only hope that did some lasting good.
But that same experience also gave me an up-close look at the key players in the local machinery, and I was permanently put off by the eternal network of nincompoops, self-promoters, serial incompetents, and just plain lunatics who are entrenched in the system here. So these days, my contribution to civil society is helping kids get started in aviation careers.
When I'm in the woods, or walking a trail, I take a trash bag, and often a latex glove, to pick up trash.
I do that too. Every day.
More heroes!!
Me too. I've got a bag for the dog poop anyway, so I just add trash to it.
It's nowhere near as bad as other places (like PA which has no bottle deposit) but I pick up beer cans on roadside when I'm walking my dog and drop them off to support the village's community center. It's a twofer!
My version of this was when I was a regular camper, my ex and I traveling over the mountains into BC most weekends, exploring the Forest Service sites dotted around the SE corner of the province. Usually reached only by following dirt roads winding into the bush away from the paved highways. A world of steep mountains, dense forest, creeks and tiny lakes like jewels. The Park Service has lovely facilities too, with running water and full-time staff, along the main routes, but that’s where the noisy families and RVs with generators go. And the fees keep rising. Above 30 bucks a night, last I looked.
The Forestry sites are free, and as such, much more primitive. Just a dozen or so gravel pads, each with a picnic table and fire circle, nicely separated for privacy. Pit toilets shared by everyone. There might be a well with a pump but it’s best to bring big jugs of water. No regular maintenance at these places. You’re expected to take care of things yourself. And that’s where citizenship comes in. We would always wipe the table down, rake the gravel, tidy up the fire pit and haul away any half burnt logs before we left.
But some people are pigs, you know. Even given this gift of nature, they can’t seem to go anywhere without leaving crap behind. So, just like you, after setting up the tent and tarps and lawn chairs, I would take a plastic bag and walk through the adjacent underbrush picking up trash—plastic containers, bottles and cans, paper products, all sorts of detritus, even fucking dirty diapers. And then raking up the inevitable cigarette butts tossed around the site. Only after doing that would it feel like it was truly ours for a couple of days, the oasis it was meant to be. Time to pop open that first cold beer.
*Leave it better than you found it* Another lesson for civics class.
Overall, past years of anti-litter campaigns and growing environmental awareness probably have had an impact on attitudes toward regarding places which should, as you say, be oases.
But then there are the types who are either heedless, or get off on bad behavior, and backcountry sites will bring that out. It reminds me of 30 some years ago, when a friend who worked as a seasonal city park employee in Seattle would say, "You see people at their worst when you see them at their recreation."
There is also sometimes an attitude of "my taxes pay for someone to clean up after me."
Or high school psychopath Stephen Miller, trolling his classmates with, "Why should I pick up my trash when there are janitors?"
A real role model.
Then immediately swerving to "we need to chuck these terrorist janitors out!", not putting one and one together...
Easy to say when he is the trash.
I always return my shopping carts to the corral. Yesterday at the ReUse store check-out I forgot two very small antique glass salt shakers at the bottom of my cavernous bag and momentarily wavered; but no, it'll have to be a separate transaction because they need the $4 more than I do. I taught my children to remember the unfortunate so we ended up singing bad parodies of Christmas carols around the Salvation Army donation bucket as we rang the bell. I make a point to really see and thank service workers (my postman gave me his personal cell phone so now I can text him when I have packages too big for the mailbox!). After 50 years, I finally made 100 blood donations; now I'm going for 15 gallons but I better buckle down to it because who knows how long I'll hold up?
I remember you reminded me that Jesus said "give to all who ask"
And I really try to keep it in mind
We all have our pet peeves and theories to go along with them, and I believe unless you are elderly, disabled, or are wrangling small children, returning your shopping cart to the corral is non-negotiable. I view the people who don't as narcissists or psychopaths (and of course, as Trump voters).
Same. I do resent the Hell out of places that împede this by having only one or two corrals located as inconveniently as possible.
And then you dutifully remember that walking the few extra steps is good for you —
OTOH my first job was in a grocery store and I loved being sent out to get carts because it got me outta that goddamn store for few minutes. Scatter 'em around people, some poor grocery worker needs the time out from under the eye of the goddamn boss.
I buy locally as much as possible, patronizing smaller and independently owned businesses as much as I can. More important than that, I tell other people about them. I have gotten a number of people to patronize the same grocery and pharmacy that I do. It's part of a local chain, but it's family owned.
Our local coop, Regent Market, has a bench out in front with a slogan provided by one of the patrons: "The store where you can't get away from your friends."
In 2020, in order to quiet the voices shrieking in my head, I signed on as a poll worker in Detroit. Several factors influenced this decision. The pandemic had thinned out the ranks of those who traditionally did the job, i.e. old people. I was working for an organization so persnickety about "bias" no other election-related work would be allowed, even though the country was on fire and one party was handing out the matches. And the city of Detroit had some extra money to pay bonuses to anyone willing to sit for 14 hours, masked, in a polling place. (The money came from Zuckerberg's foundation, and you can see where that asshole's principles went.)
So I took the training and was assigned to one of the poorest precincts in the city, not far from my comfortable home in an affluent suburb. After a career in journalism, not much about poverty surprises me, but it was touching, in the best way, to see how the day unfolded. To watch people whose creature comforts were pretty thin make their way to this COGIC church and cast ballots that probably wouldn't affect their lives very much gave a new aspect to the term "civic duty." Turnout in the city is pretty atrocious, but we had a steady, if thin, stream of voters all day.
The most affecting were the oldest people, most of whom came with younger family members who literally supported them through the process, sitting with them at the ADA-required terminal, or standing at the little kiosk to read the candidates' names to them and then make the proper mark. One old guy took about 20 minutes, start to finish, and as he fed his ballot into the tabulator, I said, "You know, it's easier to vote absentee these days, and you wouldn't have to leave home." He scowled, and his daughter answered, "He doesn't trust it." Just the sheer amount of physical effort it took to get him up, dressed and to and from the polls was considerable; I had to salute the effort.
I went home after we closed up, and curse myself to this day for not going to the TCF Center downtown, where the action was rocking all night. Some of the worst players in the state's political sewers rose up to fuck with the results, and one shared an audio clip he'd recorded at a training, and I know because I recognized the voice of the woman doing it. (Let's say it was distinctive.) She was explaining the procedure for handling no-voter-ID ballots; the ballots are set aside so the voters' affidavits swearing to their identity can be compared to records back at the Board of Elections, and absolutely nothing about it is sketchy. In fact, it's a defense against illegal votes being cast. But this shithead manipulated it and added some shitty echo effect so it sounded like she was instructing us to set certain ballots aside for later destruction. It made me nearly incandescent with anger, and to this day he is active in GOP politics and remains a piece of shit.
I later fell away from the work -- life intervened -- but this year, once again, these assholes are going to try to pull some crap, so I re-signed up. I take the training next weekend. Wish me luck.
Best of luck! In ways big and small, these assholes need to see we are pushing back!
NY had early voting for the first time in 2020. So we went the first day. Only a few locations, we went to the nearest one, in a majority Black neighborhood. There was a line, we waited maybe 30 minutes. The vibe was fantastic, even celebratory. No one talked about politics or the candidates at all. Lots of younger people bringing their elderly relatives, everyone let them cut the line. There was an alumna group of a Black sorority handing out water and being generally cheerful and helpful. Wish that Election Day always felt like that.
"He scowled, and his daughter answered, 'He doesn't trust it.'" The older I get the more I feel like that guy, and I felt like him already.
Oh and the fuckers will always try it on Detroit. Good for you standing up! You're inspiring me here in this other MAGA target.
I live in a MAGA place where Democrats don’t win, but I might try volunteering in the spirit of doing extras. I always vote anyway, and I’m curious to see if they even bother to have ICE agents monitor the voting. It could rile some of the people in my neighborhood; maybe even the other neighborhoods. At least, they’d be sore about not being trusted to go far right down the ballot. I’d like to lex around and glare at the government thugs, but I glance in the mirror at my scrawny aged arms, white hair, and “Hollywood Steps Out” cartoon aloha shirt tells me that I’d just be another victim.
From one poll worker to another, thanks for all you do.
I am on the state pesticide advisory board. Now and then I advise on pesticide issues . Especially when I'm bored.
Well, hell - it ain’t like the cat is gonna do it.
Washing recyclables, yes. I run them through the dishwasher. Which also saves water. But I feel my participation here on Roy's substack is a high point in my contribution to the social contract I never reviewed and signed.
I have gotten very serious about reviewing candidates and ballot measures, including the judges. But frankly I suspect it is somewhat silly, that, a mere tinkering with a totally whacked out system.
I am living mostly like a zombie in a world on fire. I could do more. I am too complicit in things I know to be unjust.
"I am too complicit in things I know to be unjust." me too. Never too late to repent.
From the perspective of an ex-pat who's been living in a foreign country for 28 years (I'm just talking about myself here): just "represent." Act like a fucking human being. Be a good neighbor. When communication breaks down (and it will), stay friendly (the people you don't understand are usually just trying to help you).
I agree with Roy, North Americans (English speakers generally?) could use a few Civics lessons. I think a bit of schooling on the Greeks, as well. It doesn't fucking matter if Socrates, Thucydides, etc. had all the answers. They asked some pretty good questions.
"Act like a fucking human being." For me, one of the most dispiriting things about our age is that this frequently seems like a skill that needs to be taught and re-taught.
It's a very tough nature/nurture question.
This is perhaps my biggest concern of the Trump era. There are kids growing up believing his behavior is normal for a POTUS, normal for a grown-up. I worry if we can ever claw it back.
I try to prioritize my mental health (with, admittedly, mixed results) so I won't say I worry about this every day. But I worry about it a lot.
Yes. So many people seem to be completely oblivious to the fact that other people exist. Or care. I should amend my paean to New Yorkers helping those in need to mention that you have to -really- be in need to get them to even notice. Otherwise you're on you're own. As Russell Baker wrote once, "There are no liberals behind steering wheels."
But in an era when "live and let live" and "love they neighbor" and the Golden Rule are seen as satanic marxism we all have to do what we can.
"Toxic empathy" yeah. We should make it toxic to THEM by making them eat it.
Unfortunately, it's the shitheads who are acting like human beings. The rest of us are trying to do better.
i'se in front of the fed courthouse *every* Tuesday from the week after the women's march in Jan 2017, until March 2020 with my sign "citizens resist trump and his thugs" with a buddy of mine, a retired oboe player with the Eugene symphony.
nowadays i'm not as clockwork regular. i need a double knee replacement, which i think would be too stressful under fascism for my particular 'consciousness'. maybe after he dies… we'll see.
so last year, i trained as a 'legal observer' with the CLDC, and this year go to demonstrations and 'observe legally' wearing a nice little green cap that's supposed to fend off fash police billy clubs. so far so good. happy to report there are almost daily protesters at the nazi ICE nest (fed bldg) here in Eugene.
Good for you!!! It is very intimidating to put yourself out there so publicly in these times, and I applaud you.
I've never heard of a double knee replacement being treated as a reward you give yourself when Trump dies, but what the hell, why not? And you probably need Roy to weigh in on this topic.
thanks, and yeah i'd love to read himself were he interested in writing about the new joint.
"i need a double knee replacement" hey buddy it's doable! Just letting you know! Even one can help! (Not healed up yet but I see which way it's going.)
thanks Coach!
In fifth grade or so, I was one of the students assigned to raise and lower the flag each day. As part of it, I learned the flag code. As a result, if I’m flying a flag at home I make sure it’s illuminated at night, unlike some of the locals here.
I had not hitherto thought that I was being civic-minded in washing my recyclables—I supposed that it was mere fastidiousness on my part—and am gratified to learn from Our Gracious Host that I was being virtuous all along. I also hasten from one side of the street to the other (via crosswalks, with the signal permitting) with a mind to facilitating the orderly and safe flow of automobile traffic. I like to think that were I a cyclist I would not alternate between claiming the privileges of a vehicle and a pedestrian according to whichever status conduced to my greater convenience at any given moment.
"I also hasten from one side of the street to the other" I understand that. Baltimore has a lot of street saunterers. I understand why living here might make someone not care whether they get hit, but think of the rest of us!
I witnessed a remarkable episode of poor citizenship a few years ago while taking the geriatric pooch on his constitutional: there is a Food Hole on the corner. In order to reach its parking lot, vehicles turn left at a controlled intersection, and then left again into the lot. On this occasion the car at the head of the line did not move when the left turn signal illuminated—the driver was studying her phone—and after about twenty seconds, longer than I might have given her, someone briefly honked to alert her to the opportunity that had eluded her notice, and also to the fact that by inaction she was denying this to the shoppers behind her.
Down went the window. Up came the middle finger. She lingered until the arrow went to yellow, and waited another second or so before making her turn, just to be certain that it was red by then. Meanwhile the line of cars behind her had extended out to people attempting to turn left from the very heavily traversed main drag a hundred yards to the rear: she had created, heedless, a potentially dangerous situation.
I passed the woman’s car parked in a driveway nearby a few days later. I recognized it from the make/color, but mainly from the twenty or so bumper stickers with which it was adorned, every last one of which bore some treacly “progressive” homily. You know: “Co-existence.” “All are welcome here.” “People over Profits” “Practice Random Acts of et cetera.” —and on and on. Assholes apparently come in all ideologies.
Here’s another one you do, Roy: you acknowledge that your city is stretched too thin for the needs of its citizens, and you don’t bitch nonstop about it, whine about “my tax dollars,” run off to the burbs, blame the victims.
And I'm not alone!
My contributions to civic life these days are minimal and mostly confined to the building I live in -- picking up loose trash, helping little old ladies (some of whom might be a year or two younger than me!) with packages, etc. Like going out of your way to find the stranger who lost her wallet, my incredibly decent parents raised me do this kind of stuff without even thinking about it and it's embarrassing to even mention it.
I love that New Yorkers helping--hand link because I love this city. A while ago, on a very sunny day I was hustling down the subway steps at Union Square -- like an idiot I still had sunglasses on and mistakenly thought I'd arrived at the final step and took a bad tumble. I was immediately surrounded by New Yorkers, suburbanites, tourists with accents, all making sure I was OK and helping me to my feet.
But if you wanna read about a true civic hero check out the story of Wesley Autrey at either one of these links.
https://www.facebook.com/groups/270764112473385/posts/767389386144186/
https://fayazjots.wordpress.com/2010/07/02/construction-worker-one-day-subway-hero-the-next/
As I am suffering with an epic summer headcold, I spent yesterday mainlining World Cup soccer and videos of the Knicks parade. Came across this guy, who needs to replace Schumer, IMHO. https://bsky.app/profile/thetnholler.bsky.social/post/3molwhnfl6c25
1. I am going to start washing the recyclables now. I am guilty of leaving rancid mayo and petrified salsa in the jars and food particles on the aluminum foil.
2. Other than my lack of care about recyclables, I always say thank you to any clerk or phone answerer when I need to contact any government office. I WAS a Phone Drone even working as a lawyer and really put effort into being nice to the people who called me. I became known as the Nut Whisperer for my superpower of getting angry people to calm down and be polite, so I al never the Nut Who Needs Whispering.
3. I return shopping carts, appropriately dispose of trash, carefully fold or hang clothes I’ve tried on and return them to the changing room clerk, and anything else to make life just a little easier for minimum wage retail employees.
4. I knock on sooooo many doors before each election reminding my fellow citizens to vote.
"Nut Whisperer" awesome & funny at the same time
AAAND, that's *another* pet peeve of mine. When I'm trying on clothes and pass dressing rooms women have vacated that look like bomb sites, clothes scattered all over the floor, I get angry on behalf of the store workers almost as much as if *I* was the one who had to pick them up.
Maybe I need to revise my self assessment and start thinking of myself as "irascible." I seem to have a lot of pet peeves, lol.
"Irascible" is one of those great words that means and sounds and looks exactly like it should. And a little well-placed irascibility is so satisfying, too.
It's practically onomatopoetry!