Just back from voting. Don’t know when I’ve ever enjoyed it less. All the precincts are stuck into MetraPark in a venue way too large for the task. A few voters wandered about. A TV crew grabbed random passersby. Outside, a handful of activists gathered signatures on petitions aimed at establishing that life begins at incorporation.
The competing ballots offered embarrassments of riches — and of just embarrassment. Should voters really have to vote against either Chuck Tooley or Lynda Moss — two fine public servants — or choose instead between 60 or 70 identical Republican candidates for governor?
I used to reliably come out of the voting booth feeling a little better about myself and the country. Those days are over.