no mail ballots? Screw you

There appears to be a great deal of excitement these days about the government to deny the people their customary mail-in ballots. Apparently somebody has had the brilliant idea that if you make it difficult enough for the ballot to get through the mail, you have somehow solved the problem of the voter, which is they might vote Democrat this time.

A voter like myself will have a medical exemption, but the average voter has no options. There is, however, a small flaw in this plan. The voter has legs and a brain.

This seems to have escaped notice.

The theory apparently goes something like this: First, discourage voting by mail. Second, restrict the handling of election mail. Third, make everybody nervous about whether their ballot is going to arrive on time. Fourth—Victory!

Except that somewhere between steps three and four, several million people may look at one another and say: “Oh, yeah???” They decide not to let the government do this to them, and they resolve to walk into the voting booth to ensure that their vote will be counted.

If they can, they get in their car. Imagine the polling-place worker looking out the window at 8:30 in the morning. “Ethel?”

“Yes?”

“There are people outside.”

“Well, of course there are people outside. This is a polling place.”

“No, Ethel. I mean there are PEOPLE outside.”

“How many?”

“All of them.”

And they’re still coming. Cars. Pickup trucks. Bicycles. Motorcycles. People with walkers. People with canes. People pushing baby carriages. People who haven’t been out of the house since The Price Is Right changed hosts.

Here comes Aunt Martha, who hasn’t driven after dark since 1987. Here comes Uncle Fred, wearing the same jacket he wore when he voted for Eisenhower. Here comes somebody’s grandmother who was perfectly willing to put her ballot in the mailbox until somebody suggested that perhaps she shouldn’t.

Big mistake. Never annoy somebody’s grandmother. Especially somebody’s grandmother who has been voting since Truman.

The interesting thing about restricting mail voting is that it doesn’t necessarily make the voter disappear. It may merely change the voter’s transportation arrangements.

Instead of moving the ballot to the polling place, you move the person attached to the ballot. And unlike a ballot envelope, the person may bring friends.

“Want a ride?”
“Sure.”
“Anybody else?”
“Edna wants to go.”
“Get Edna.”
“Harry too.”
“Get Harry.”
“Harry’s bringing six people from the senior center.”
“Tell him we’ll need the van.”

And thus is born the great American political movement nobody planned: “OH, YEAH??? EAT MY SHORTS!!!” sort of MOB.

Not an actual organized mob, mind you. No pitchforks. No torches. No breaking anything. No shouting at election workers. Of course, many organizations will generate voting activities such as busing, where allowed.

This is the most irritating kind of mob imaginable: a completely peaceful, cheerful, patient and perfectly legal mob.

They have identification where required. They know where they’re supposed to go. They brought snacks. Some brought folding chairs and water bottles. And every last one of them intends to vote, period.

Worse yet, they don’t necessarily arrive on Election Day. Most Americans have some form of early in-person voting available. Which means the Oh, Yeah??? Mob doesn’t have to descend upon the polling places on one dramatic Tuesday morning. It can descend gradually.

Monday: “Oh, yeah???”
Tuesday: “Oh, yeah???”
Wednesday: “Oh, yeah???”
Thursday: “Oh, yeah???”
“Good heavens, they’re back.”
“No, Ethel. Those are different ones.”

The beauty of the whole thing is that there’s no need to fight anybody. Nobody needs to argue with the post office. Nobody needs to wrestle a mail truck to the ground. Nobody needs to stand heroically in front of a mailbox singing The Battle Hymn of the Republic.

Postmaster General David Steiner was the asshole who issued the directive to refuse our mailed-in ballots, but no problem:

You simply remove the mailbox from the equation.

Don’t trust the U.S. Post Office, well, Hell — don’t mail it.

Vote early in person where that’s available. Or, where the rules permit it, take your ballot directly to an authorized election office or official ballot drop box.

The fundamental strategic mistake in trying to discourage voting is assuming that inconvenience produces surrender. Sometimes it does. But sometimes inconvenience produces irritation.

And irritation is an underestimated source of energy.

There’s a wonderful difference between: “Oh, dear. I hope my ballot gets there,” and “OH, YEAH??? EAT MY SHORTS!!!”

The first kind of person waits for the mail that will never come. The smarter person finds the car keys and gets to a polling place and walks in and writes out their ballot and drops the ballot in the ballot box provided at the site.

So perhaps the answer to the Great Mail Ballot Crisis isn’t entirely complicated. Help people learn where and when they can vote in person. Give rides to people who need them. Go early. Bring a friend. Bring two friends. Bring Edna. Be cheerful. Be patient. Thank the poll workers. Obey every election rule with maddening precision.

And vote.

Imagine spending months devising an elaborate strategy to keep ballots out of the mail—only to look out the window one morning and discover that instead of the ballots…

the voters themselves have arrived, waving ballots in hand and yelling, “Oh, yeah???”

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Here’s the Bardo bus now!

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