If A Vote Fails To Be Counted, Is It Really a Democracy?

Several articles have appeared in the news concerning the electronic voting machines. Among them:

http://www.oxfordpress.com/hp/content/oh/story/news/local/2008/08/28/hjn082808voting.html

http://www.cbsnews.com/stories/2008/08/16/eveningnews/main4355733.shtml


"Premier Election Solutions (aka Dibold) recently conceded that the problem may not be caused by anti-virus software, but may be an error that has existed in the machine's code for more than a decade."

This is the same company who has refused to allow outside independent testing of it's code. The same company who has insisted for over a decade that there was nothing wrong with the machines, and that all elections counted by these machines were legitimate and safely conducted.

And only now, because various states and voting municipalities are starting to sue, has Dibold started to admit maybe these machines are not as reliable as once thought. After the federal gov't has spent millions of dollars buying and implementing the machines. After states have spent millions of dollars on maintenance. After several close call elections that may or may not have been counted correctly.

For our last election 2 years ago, we had to use the electronic machines. Our poll workers did not know how to run them. They got confused. They kept crashing the system. When I questioned whether my vote would indeed be counted, they got huffy with me. "Well of course it will," said the election supervisor. " Our government would not spend the money on them if they weren't thoroughly tested and proven reliable." Uh-huh.

I recently voted in the primary. Our new voting system was a felt tip marker pen and the ballot. You filled in the bubble next to the candidate's name. No confusion, no crashing, no fears of hackers breaking into the system. And there's a paper trail, to verify the votes.

Makes you think. Newer technology isn't alwasy better. Sometimes a pen and paper will do the job just fine.

Uninvited Guests After the Storm

Tropical Storm Faye reached us on Friday, hitting us with 40 mile per hour wind gusts and dumping several inches of rain on our property. We survived intact, for the most part, and other than having a few small tree limbs to pick up, we were relatively unscathed. We lost power for about 4 hours on Fri, but were back on-line in the evening.

Thanks to Faye, however, I discovered some uninvited guests. While clipping some broken branches from one of our oak trees, I noticed a yellow jacket buzzing around. I ignored it, and kept trimming. Fortunately, it didn't take me long to finish my task. The yellow jacket, however, was still buzzing around the tree trunk. So I took a closer look. I noticed that the tree trunk was moving. Cautiously, I looked again. Apparently, an army of yellow jackets decided to invade our tree. They had found a hole created by a woodpecker, and had built a nest inside the tree. I was no more than 2 feet from them while trimming, but I didn't get stung. Since my ability to get stung is known far and wide, I called for back up in the form of Big Dave, and he came to the rescue bearing a HUGE can of hornet/wasp spray. He sprayed the affected area once yesterday, but he'll have to keep applying it for a few more days, as the nest appears to be pretty deep.

Big Dave is the official insect killer in the house. But it's not because I'm squeamish about bugs. It's because I'm the one who will be stung/bit/attacked. I can't tell you the number of times I've gotten stung by scorpions, stung by wasps, bit by spiders, or otherwise suffered a physical assault by insects. I'm not the one who kills them, but I'm still the one who will get stung. Where's the fairness in that?

Oh, and you should see Big Dave when he's in insect attack mode. He fears nothing -- not a pincher, not a stinger -- nothing. He will walk right up the nest, poke at it with a stick to make them come out, then spray and laugh his demonic laugh. It's absolutely hilarious to watch. The fact that they DARE invade his yard is reason enough for him bring on the Napalm. Watching a grown man wage a battle against a hive of insects -- now THAT's entertainment.

Why I Need Adult Supervision At All Times

1. I am fascinated by shiny metal objects. Take, for example, the metal scrapers that waiters use at fine restaurants. You know, the ones they use to clean the bread and food crumbs from the table cloth after every course. For some unknown reason, they amuse me to no end. Big Dave first noticed this phenomenom in Orlando when we dined at an upscale steak joint. I was the only one jumping up and down in my seat whenever our waiter came to our table and pulled out his scraper. Don't ask me why. I don't have an answer. All I can tell you is if you're ever in a nice restaurant, and you hear someone squeal "Goodie!" when the waiter starts to clear the crumbs, chances are, it's me. Come on over and say Hi. I'll even share my bread with you.

2. I love flame. My husband would call me a pyro, but I'd rather consider myself a amateur candle-enthusiast/fire pit afficienado. There's just something about a controlled flame that's soothing and reflective. That, and my bro was a firefighter, so I'm guessing it runs in my gene pool. Hence, I have no control over this particular weirdness.

3. I hate to cook. It is takes me more than 15-20 minutes to prepare a meal, it will inevitably get burned and/or ruined. Or I will burn myself. I do not have the patience to stand over the stove for an extended period of time. Baking, however, I can do. Probably because I can set the timer for the estimated time frame needed, and come back to check.

4. I can injure myself if given sharp, pointy, or otherwise dangerous objects. Like a butterknife. Or a spork. Somehow, someway, I will accidentally stab, cut or maim myself. It's a sure thing. Acutally, I'm surprised Big Dave hasn't taken over the chore of cutting up my meat. This seems to be a particularly dangerous activity for me.

5. I am not good with directions. Whether putting furniture together or following a recipe, I will at some point ignore the directions. Not good. Sometimes, the results turn out fine. Other times... well.. let's just say it tends to look like a project semi-completed by an idiot. Which reminds me of my favorite idiot joke:

A group of people are gathered in a room, attending a weekly Idiots Anonymous Meeting. One man walks up to the podium and begins the meeting. "Hi, my name is Bob, and I'm an idiot." The rest of the crowed dutifully answers, "Hi Steve!"

6. I'm not as young and spry as I used to be. Let's just say that my coordination and center of gravity has changed over the years. This leads to some interesting events, such as tripping over my own feet, or rolling over my toe with the computer chair (while I'm sitting in the chair). Once, I even managed to hit my head on the inside of the dishwasher. (Don't ask. It's a painful memory). Once, while walking through the living room, I took a nasty tumble and fell flat on my face. Naturally, Big Dave was concerned and rushed to my aid. As he helped me up, he asked what happenend. I told him I tripped on the carpet. He frowned, then said, "But we don't have any carpet in the house." I said, "Well, since it was my face that made contact with the floor, we'll use my version of the story. And I tripped on the carpet." Being the wise man that he is, he said no more.

7. I get excited by the simpliest things. Finding one more cookie in the cookie jar when I expected it to be empty. Watching my cat(s) snore. Finding my favorite movie playing on cable. Big Dave bringing my favorite candy bar from the store. A towel fresh from the dryer. Underwear that doesn't ride up. And a husband who loves me in spite of all my faults.
These are a few of my favorite things.

The Panic Before The Storm

By Tuesday we should have an uninvited guest in our area -- Tropical Storm/Hurricane Fay. Our esteemed weather forecasters are calling for 100% humidity and wind.

Ya think?!

What's really strange is how panicked people now become whenever a storm is mentioned in the news. Granted, hurricanes can be extremely dangerous and destructive, as we've seen with Hurricanes Katrina, Andrew, and Hugo. But I can't help think back to when I was a kid. Hurricanes were taken in stride -- part of a fact of life in Florida. We prepared as best we could, but ultimately understood that we had no control over what was to come. We worried, but remained calm.

Now a days our forecasters seem to predict the end of the world with even a standard thunderstorm. They can't get pictures of the downed trees and power lines on the air fast enough. They'll gleefully tell you about the injuries, the deaths (even if the storm was not to blame), the preliminary cost of damages. They seem to relish being the first to bring you news of the destruction and carnage. This is why I can't bring myself to watch the news anymore. After spending a half-hour listening to them, I'm exhausted. It's nothing but doom and gloom.

Floridians will tell you we have 4 seasons, just like everyone else. Except ours are: Fall, Spring, Summer, Hurricane. Our Hurricane season lasts from June 1 to November 1. Real Floridians will tell you to buckle up and wait it out. The tourists head for higher ground.

Homeowners look towards the sky, sigh, and wait to see how high their next insurance premium will go.

My Niece Commands, I Shall (or Not) Obey

The following is a conversation I had with my niece today: (In the background, I hear my sis-in-law providing cues)

Niece: Aunt Kathy, when can I have a cousin?

Me: You already have two cousins. From Aunt Jen.

Niece: (silence, at first, but I hear SIL whisper to Niece the following): But I want one from you. Soon, okay? A girl. I want it to be a girl.

Me: Why a girl?

Niece: Because she can help me with my brother, and teach him things.

Me: What do you want to teach him?

Niece: Things like how to get me stuff, and bring my toys to me, and do stuff for me.

Me: That's not very nice. I don't think your brother wants to do those things.

Niece: But he'd have to do it all if I had a cousin helping me with him. So when am I going to get one?

Me: That depends. It's going to cost you $20. Do you have $20?

Niece: (dead silence, then a sigh) No.

Me: Then sorry. I can't give you a cousin. Cousins are very expensive.

Niece: (another dramatic sigh, and in the background I hear the phone being manhandled, and my niece saying, "Here, mom, you talk to her. She's being impossible. Tell her she has to give me a cousin."

I love messing with her mind.

We Think You're "Amazing", George!

It's been 17 years since George Michael set foot on stage on this side of the pond.

17 years of patient waiting and hoping from his loyal American fans - fans who were wondering if the day of George's return would ever happen. During his absence from the Colonies, he'd done many European concerts, released new material, compiled a massive greatest hits collection, and introduced himself to the LAPD in a public bathroom.

Fan started asking, "when, oh when will George grace us with his presence once again? Please, just give us One More Try!"

On Saturday, his Faith-ful fans were finally rewarded.

The concert was awesome. Despite the fact that poor George was suffering from a head cold, he still brought down the house. The boy still has his pipes, his manly good looks, and can shuffle his tush with them best of 'em!

We were in the ninth row, surrounded by members of George's fan club. The guy sitting next to us had been to the two concerts in Texas, then drove to Florida to attend the last two concerts of the American tour in Tampa and Sunrise. There were two ladies from England who had been to every concert on the tour, and planned to go to the last two dates in London and Copenhagen. A group of ten behind us ran the Southeast chapter of his fan club, and had met George at a pre-concert meet and greet.

Now I'm a fan of the man, but one concert was enough for me. We got our George fix, and can now honestly say he's one of the greatest performers we've seen.

Not bad for a guy who got his start with a song "Wake Me Up Before You Go-Go".

Wake me up to go-go to see George Michael

This morning I was woken up by my husband, who leaned over me with a big grin on his face. As soon as he saw I was awake, he starting singing various George Michael songs -- badly -- and trying to get me to sing along. Two main problems with this form of a wake-up call. (1) I'm not a morning person, especially on a Saturday morning, and (2) I didn't have my coffee yet. If I could have mananged to scowl and voice my displeasure, I would have. As it was, I could barely open my eyes and snort. Then I rolled over and pretended to suffer from caffeine withdrawl. I don't think he noticed.

As you might have already guessed, we are going to see George Michael in concert tonight at the St. Pete Times Forum in Tampa.

My husband has been looking forward to this concert, because he has become a big fan of the Eli Stone series on TV. For those of you unfamiliar with the series, it's about a lawyer who is diagnosed with a brain aneurysm, which is causing him to have strange visions. And among these visions is George Michael singing and dancing around Eli's law firm. These visions usually center on cases that Eli eventually takes in defense and protection of the little guy fighting against corporations. A little weird, yes, but entertaining nonetheless.

Anyways, because of the series, my husband has had George Michael on the brain, and this concert will be an opportunity to help purge Big Dave of his habit of breaking out in song in the car and around the house.

I hope.

Otherwise I will be confiscating all George Michael and Wham CDs from the house and the car.

Sorry, George, it's nothing personal, but if it's a choice between you and my sleep time, I'm going to have to choose sleep.