monitoring the liquored vote
I was in the beer depot the other day with a couple purchases of adult beverages when the checkout lady asked to see my ID. I don’t take that as a compliment anymore now that I’m 40 years past legal. It’s the law and I am as law abiding as the next fellow down at the South End, meaning, I try my best even if I fall short more than occasionally. She noticed my ID was a driver’s license from another state since I was in a liquor store in Wisconsin, not that I usually make my beer runs that far from home, no matter how good their local beer is. She looked at it a lot longer than I was accustomed to, which is maybe ten seconds longer than a cursory glance. June, 1950, she said. My bank likes to tell me my birthday too, I guess to make me feel like we’re all family down there at the old First National Gouge and Steal that is my lending institution.
She finally handed me back my ID, which even has a picture of me in the same weatherstained cowboy hat I was sporting at the time, so she knew it must’ve been yours truly, but when I paid for my purchases, she asked suddenly, springing it on me, what year was your birthday again? Trick question for the feeble minded or the counterfeiter trying to buy legal liquor with a bogus ID. This is the state that requires drivers license photo ID for the ostensible purpose of ensuring
that voter fraud is kept to a minimum. Some folks think its real purpose is to keep students and minorities from voting since they’re more likely not to own a car OR a license to drive one. Me, I’m cynical so you can probably
guess how I stand on that. But I wasn’t in the liquor store to vote, you see, although she might have figured maybe that’s where I was headed next, probably after drinking my illegal purchases. They got a big recall vote out here in a couple days and everybody and their mother is wound tight as a cheap alarm clock. Who knows, maybe I was on a dry run, see if my phony ID would work on beer, then use it to vote
back in the folks who were voted out for wanting to let my vigilant checkout lady form a labor union for better wages and maybe some benefits. Or maybe she just was mistrustful of some immigrant from a state she wasn’t sure was in America or Mexico. The price of ignorance when you don’t bother with the GED. Nevertheless, you can’t be too careful in these polarized times. Especially in a state where it’s now easier to get a concealed weapon permit than one to vote.
Well, I passed the pop quiz with, okay, maybe not flying colors, and certainly not the answer she expected to hear. Once I get a few beers under my belt, maybe I’ll get up the nerve to try voting here in the dairy state. Right after I get that permit for a Luger. If I do, I’m voting to keep her wages pegged right of minimum. I figure a true patriot like herself ought to be willing to work practically for free.
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