(The mystery of the hanging chads from 2000. Photo AP).

Michelle is not peering at me from the banner to the right of my email screen. It is over.

I had hoped it would go like this, either way: a clear, clean kill.

Well, it was neither, in the practical application of democracy, but it was a kill. We have chosen, in most of the battleground states to go “forward,” wherever that might be. I am still a little foggy on that, but happy we are not going to do “hanging chads” for the next several weeks. The campaign is over, thank God, though we appear to have chosen a course that means that everything will stay the same: same idiots in control of the House and the Senate and of course the big white home on Pennsylvania Avenue.

I think it is time for a new party.

I was thinking about that last night at Willow. They were advertising a special election burger, Blue Cheese and Red Catsup on two paddies of local beef. I did not have one- I wasn’t hungry- though I was thirsty enough. ENS Socotra stopped by, and sat next to Old Jim who is an unreconstructed Democrat, Old School, and the Johns- with and without ‘h’ were fully accounted for.

John-with was seated next to a real political operative in town from Florida. John-with is a political type, red, though burrowed into the civil service, and his friend from down south was an actual party operative. The conversation was animated. I told Jim that Nate Silver of the NY Times was calling it an 83% chance for re-election, while others were saying it might be a Romney night, the popular vote split right down the middle.

I didn’t know, but just hoped it would be over. Tracey O’Grady had relented on her usual ban on the televisions over the bar, and Big Chris had opened up the cabinet doors to allow the patrons to see the blue-glow of the old-school televisions. News Channel 8 was playing with no sound at the Amen Corner of the bar, and Fox was on the other down by the service door to the kitchen.

The Ensign had mussels and lobster ravioli, and I had another glass of wine.

“They say there was the usual hi-jinx at the polls,” I said. “the Ground Game is in full force.” The Republican at John-with’s side said he wasn’t surprised.

“Down in Dade County I was involved in the hanging chad thing.”

“God,” I said. “That was awful.”

“You have no idea. You wanna know how you get a ‘pregnant chad’ or a hanging one?”

I said that I didn’t. “I do remember that strange man with the glasses peering at the little squares to divine the intent of the voter.”

“Yeah, that is exactly the guy we caught on video tape stuffing a ballot box. That is why Dade County dropped out of the re-count.”

“It is all fuzzy at this distance,” I said. “But it was appalling, the whole thing.”

“Let me tell you,” said the Operative. “The only way you get a hanging or pregnant chad is if you try to vote multiple ballots at the same time. The stylus doesn’t go all the way through if you have three or four of them stacked up. That is how it happens.”

“Really?” I said. “That is pretty blatant.” The Republican nodded emphatically, and then diagrammed how the punch-card system worked on a bar napkin, just the way I used to jot down Mac’s recollections at the same seat.

Old Jim took a deep sip of Budweiser and waved at Liz-with-an-S for reinforcements. “That is not the way it really works, based on my three campaigns,” he said. “The key is what you have people doing on the ground. You need a big apparatus and it has a lot of moving parts.”

The Republican nodded again. “You want to know why Florida didn’t go for Gore in 2000?”

“I’m game. Widespread voter fraud?” I asked tentatively.

“Nope. There was a woman named Brown who was running for Congress. She had thousands of voter information cards printed up, and blanketed the all the polling stations in Dade County.”

“That is the ground game,” said Jim. “That is where you get the votes out.”

“Well, it didn’t work that time. The voter card was deliberately very simple. It had directions to vote for Gore and Brown.”

“So?” I said, sipping the woody-tinged Chardonnay. “What happened?”

“18,000 citizens voted for Gore, and then voted for Harry Browne.”

“What’s your point?” I said.

“Harry Browne was the Libertarian Candidate for President. The voter card didn’t say ‘vote for Brown for Congress.’ All those people voted twice for president, and all their ballots were spoiled.”

“That would have won Florida for Gore,” I said.

“And Florida would have given him the Electoral College and the White House,” said the Operative.

“Damn,” I said, trying to think how this revelation would have played out over the last sorry decade.

“No shit,” said Jim, and slammed his fresh Bud on the bar. “That is the way things work.”

John-with and the Republican Operative announced they were going to watch the first returns come in at Senior Executive Jeff’s place up the block. The Republican handed out cigars as he left, which in the context of the rest of the night, was about the last thing that party is going to be able to give me.

This morning, it is over. But I thought at the time I might have a whiskey for the ditch.

Copyright 2012 Vic Socotra
www.vicsocotra.com