Tell me that story again about a county in south Florida, where votes can’t be counted the usual ways. A place that tries our patience on major elections, the way only a child could.
Tell me again, oh wise one, for whom the bell really tolls…. because it never ever tolls for thee. Not in that place, immunized from accountability.
And tell me again, how important it is to count every vote like they are waves on the sea. Tell me again, while they blunder away, how their duties become more important than all the others in the state. Tell me why everything is broken and nothing is ever fixed?
Tell me how this wayward Broward always manages to be the decider in major elections? Do tell me when this election will end? Time will tell, they say, but it never says a peep there. It keeps dragging on and on as if there is no clock or time keeper. Does anyone care?
Tell me again, oh crooked ones, that you are just counting every vote. Funny it never is any other county, just this one making all the stink. You mean the others don’t?
Like sands sifting through the hour glass, these are “the days of our polls.”
We all stand and watch in suspense like drones.
So pardon my disgust at hearing “count every vote”. But how and when they count them never seems to matter. Rules are only for the other guys. Tell me, I’d like to know, how this whole process fits with democracy? Can you give me a hint because I sure don’t know?
Right Ring | Bullright