That Electoral Madness

This is the first year I have been eligible to vote in a New York City Mayoral election and I could not have been more excited to start the mayoral process by casting my vote in the Democratic Primary.  I studied the race extensively, and followed all the candidates and the unfortunately sordid actions that surrounded the proceedings.   Apparently I didn’t follow the television ads that well, because I could not find my favorite candidate when I entered the ballot box; Bill de Blasio’s son.  That kid just seems like a really cool guy and the leader we need to enact some real liberal change after 12 years of the Bloomberg.  Mr. Destroyer of term limits and “fuck everybody but the rich” has overstayed his welcome.  We do thank you for trying to turn New York into a European city (I enjoy the bike lanes and the emphasis on parks and walking spaces.  Let’s have some more of that).  So imagine my shock and disappointment when de Blasio the younger was nowhere to be found on the ballot box.  A sullen election worker told me that he wasn’t running for Mayor and that I’d have to pick somebody else.  She said I wasn’t the first voter to get that disappointing answer.  So I re-entered the booth and surveyed the voting box for my next choice.  But again, my candidates’ name was nowhere to be found.  I hated to be the guy who holds up the voting process, but I figured I was far quicker than the three people in walkers who had preceded me.  Before I could even mouth my electoral query, the election worker gave me another soul crushing answer.  “Bill de Blasio’s daughter is also not on the ballot.  Yeah, I know, she would have been a good mayor too.”  We both nodded and before I re-entered that booth of broken dreams, the lovely election worker told me that Bill de Blasio’s wife was also not running.  It was only 11 in the morning but the resignation in her voice told me it had been a long day.  She was far removed from the freshness of the morning and the delirious joy that accompanies the end of a long day of grueling work.  She was smack-dab in the middle of her shift and in a purgatory of electoral madness.

I shuffled my way back into the booth and pulled the curtain to survey if there was anybody who could compete with my first three choices.  It was a toss-up between Bill de Blasio and Bill Thompson; both good men and good public servants.  But who should I pull my ultimately meaningless vote for?  Which candidate would get to revel in the fact that I, Jason Thompson, wanted them to represent the Democratic Party in the 2013 New York City Mayoral election?  While the questions posed early seemed like they would take eons of thought, I arrived at my decision rather quickly.  I pulled the lever for Bill de Blasio.  I figured that once in power, he could enact the only spoils system I would ever support and give his immediate family cushy government jobs.  That sounds like a good mayor to me.  So, I voted de Blasio and walked out of the room listening only to the sounds of election workers diligently telling the uninformed that Bill de Blasio’s son was not on the ballot and they’d have to pick a new person.