Electoral College Dropouts

How did I not know this???

I was a Government major, man! I should KNOW this stuff. Ok, it was in my master plan to become a government major, but you need 120 credits to graduate college and when it came time to plan out my final four semesters I realized that I could just take a bunch of courses in the same department for a second major. It worked, didn’t it? No, I don’t have any interest in running for office or working for a government (American or otherwise), but I have the degree to prove my capability, don’t I? And besides, I’ve forgotten more about the politics of Nigeria than you’ll ever know.

Ok, that might not be saying much.

It has come to my attention that today Iowa has kicked off the Election 2008 proceedings by virtue of their famed Caucus, an event that helps pare down the playing field to only the serious (read: wealthy) contenders. I figured that a caucus was a simple affair. People go before work to their civic institution of choice, tell the magic voting machine who they would like to represent their political party come November, leave and go to work, and then knock off early to watch a bunch of deceased baseball players scrimmage in the middle of a cornfield. After all, caucus is just a fancy work for primary election, right Government Major?

Apparently, the future of our country will be determined by a game of Farmboy Four Square.

CNN.com has a lovely article that unearths what a caucus actually does. Thanks to this article, I fear for the future of Democracy.

In order to choose a political party’s frontrunners, all the (not-busy) people in each of Iowa’s 99 districts get together and sit, likely in folding chairs. When the time comes, the election officials instruct the Iowans to stand up and gather in a corner of the room the represents the candidate they’d most like to see be degraded by the other party in commercials next fall. The cattle mull about, and eventually end up in claustrophobic tight packs, and the folding chairs are left lonely in the middle of the room.

If you would like to vote for a Folding Chair to be our next Commander-in-Chief, please stay seated.

So then the Iowans are counted, and somebody breaks out the calculator on their cell phone to help with the math. If your huddled mass yearning to Vote Hillary comprises less than 15% of the room’s populace, an intimidating bouncer from the local bar comes into your section and makes you scatter like liberty in a hurricane. You don’t have to leave, though – you have to listen to loud people explain why you must join their groups to help their candidates’ causes.

Confusing? Picture it this way. Everyone in your elementary school is waiting on the blacktop in orderly lines for the school buses to arrive. At the last minute, one of the teachers announces that Bus #4 got four flat tires and will no longer be coming to pick up the children to take them home. They’ve also called your parents to inform them, and your parents said it’s cool to go home on any other bus you like and they’ll get you later. Suddenly, the oldest kid from each respective bus explains why their bus is the best. Promises like, “Our bus driver listens to rock music!!!” and “The air-conditioning works in Bus #5!!!” sway the bus-less to their vehicles. On Bus #3, little Johnny Edwards just smiles at all the girls, and they swoon on over.

A final tally is taken, and because of this, several career politicians now have to go back to their regular jobs. What?

One final postscript – why does this take place at 7PM? Can’t Iowa take the day off and get this done earlier so that the networks tonight can show me the Writers’ Strike re-runs I demand? Come on Iowa! Play some hooky! It’s not like you have to harvest the corn – it’s January. It’s frozen. And even if you did, frozen corn isn’t terrible.